#wanted to quickly document this on my blog

[tanicus-caesareth]

guarana drama, damage control

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

The Telling Truth: When 'Show, Don't Tell' Doesn't Apply (You Don't Always Have To Show, Don't Tell.)

Hey there, fellow writers and beloved members of the writeblr community! 📝✨

Today, I want to talk about something that's been on my mind lately, and I have a feeling it might resonate with many of you too. It's about that age-old writing advice we've all heard a million times: "Show, don't tell." Now, don't get me wrong – it's great advice, and it has its place in our writing toolbox. But here's the thing: it's not the be-all and end-all of good writing. In fact, I'd argue that sometimes, it's perfectly okay – even necessary – to tell rather than show.

First things first, let's address the elephant in the room. The "show, don't tell" rule has been drilled into our heads since we first picked up a pen (or opened a Word document) with the intention of writing creatively. It's been repeated in writing workshops, creative writing classes, and countless craft books. And for good reason! Showing can create vivid, immersive experiences for readers, allowing them to feel like they're right there in the story.

But here's where things get a bit tricky: like any rule in writing (or in life, for that matter), it's not absolute. There are times when telling is not just acceptable, but actually preferable. And that's what you all will explore today in this hopefully understandable blog post.

Let's start by breaking down why "show, don't tell" is so popular. When we show instead of tell, we're engaging the reader's senses and emotions. We're painting a picture with words, allowing the reader to draw their own conclusions based on the details we provide. It's a powerful technique that can make our writing more engaging and memorable.

For example, instead of saying "Sarah was angry," we might write, "Sarah's fists clenched at her sides, her jaw tight as she glared at the broken vase." This gives the reader a clearer image and allows them to infer Sarah's emotional state.

But here's the thing: sometimes, we don't need or want that level of detail. Sometimes, efficiency in storytelling is more important than painting an elaborate picture. And that's where telling comes in handy.

Imagine if every single emotion, action, or piece of information in your story was shown rather than told. Your novel would probably be thousands of pages long, and your readers might get lost in the sea of details, losing sight of the main plot or character arcs.

So, when might telling be more appropriate? Let's explore some scenarios:

Summarizing less important events: If you're writing a story that spans a long period, you don't need to show every single day or event. Telling can help you summarize periods of time or less crucial events quickly, allowing you to focus on the more important parts of your story.

For instance: "The next few weeks passed in a blur of exams and late-night study sessions." This sentence tells us what happened without going into unnecessary detail about each day.

Providing necessary background information: Sometimes, you need to give your readers some context or backstory. While you can certainly weave this information into scenes, there are times when a straightforward telling of facts is more efficient.

Example: "The war had been raging for three years before Sarah's village was attacked." This quickly gives us important context without needing to show the entire history of the war.

Establishing pace and rhythm: Alternating between showing and telling can help you control the pace of your story. Showing tends to slow things down, allowing readers to immerse themselves in a moment. Telling can speed things up, moving the story along more quickly when needed.

Clarifying complex ideas or emotions: Some concepts or feelings are abstract or complex enough that showing alone might not suffice. In these cases, a bit of telling can help ensure your readers understand what's happening.

For example: "The quantum entanglement theory had always fascinated John, but explaining it to others often left him feeling frustrated and misunderstood." Here, we're telling the reader about John's relationship with this complex scientific concept, which might be difficult to show effectively.

Maintaining your narrative voice: Sometimes, telling is simply more in line with your narrative voice or the tone of your story. This is especially true if you're writing in a more direct or conversational style.

Now, I can almost hear some of you saying, "But wait! I've always been told that showing is always better!" And I completely get it. I'm a writer myself and prioritize "Show, Don't tell." in my writing all the time. We've been conditioned to believe that showing is superior in all cases. But we can take a moment to challenge that notion.

Think about some of your favorite books. Chances are, they use a mix of showing and telling. Even the most critically acclaimed authors don't adhere strictly to "show, don't tell" all the time. They understand that good writing is about balance and knowing when to use each technique effectively.

Take, for instance, the opening line of George Orwell's "1984": "It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen." This is a perfect blend of showing and telling. Orwell shows us it's a bright, cold day (we can imagine the crisp air and clear sky), but he tells us about the clocks striking thirteen. This immediate telling gives us crucial information about the world we're entering – it's not quite like our own.

Or consider this passage from Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice": "Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character." Here, Austen is clearly telling us about Mr. Bennet's character rather than showing it through his actions. And yet, it works beautifully, giving us a quick, clear insight into both Mr. Bennet and his wife.

The key is to use both techniques strategically. So, how can you decide when to show and when to tell? Here are some tips:

Consider the importance of the information: Is this a crucial moment in your story, a pivotal emotion, or a key piece of character development? If so, it might be worth showing. If it's more of a transitional moment or background information, telling might be more appropriate.

Think about pacing: If you want to slow down and really immerse your reader in a moment, show it. If you need to move things along more quickly, tell it.

Evaluate the complexity: If you're dealing with a complex emotion or concept, consider whether showing alone will be enough to convey it clearly. Sometimes, a combination of showing and telling works best for complex ideas.

Consider your word count: If you're working with strict word count limitations (like in short stories or flash fiction), telling can help you convey necessary information more concisely.

Trust your instincts (Important): As you write more, you'll develop a feel for when showing or telling works better. Trust your gut, and don't be afraid to experiment.

Now, let's talk about how to tell effectively when you do choose to use it. Because here's the thing: telling doesn't have to be boring or flat. It can be just as engaging and stylish as showing when done well. Here are some tips for effective telling:

Use strong, specific language: Instead of using vague or generic words, opt for more specific, evocative language. For example, instead of "She was sad," you might write, "A profound melancholy settled over her."

Incorporate sensory details: Even when telling, you can include sensory information to make it more vivid. "The room was cold" becomes more engaging as "A bone-chilling cold permeated the room."

Use metaphors and similes: These can help make your telling more colorful and memorable. "His anger was like a volcano ready to erupt" paints a vivid picture without showing the anger in action.

Keep it concise: One of the advantages of telling is its efficiency. Don't negate that by being overly wordy. Get to the point, but do it with style.

Vary your sentence structure: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, more flowing ones to create rhythm and maintain interest.

Remember, the goal is to create a seamless narrative that engages your reader. Sometimes that means showing, sometimes it means telling, and often it means a artful blend of both.

It's also worth noting that different genres and styles of writing may lean more heavily on one technique or the other. Literary fiction often employs more showing, delving deep into characters' psyches and painting elaborate scenes. Genre fiction, on the other hand, might use more telling to keep the plot moving at a brisker pace. Neither approach is inherently better – it all depends on what works best for your story and your style.

Now, I want to address something that I think many of us struggle with: the guilt or anxiety we might feel when we catch ourselves telling instead of showing. It's easy to fall into the trap of second-guessing every sentence, wondering if we should be showing more. But here's the truth: that kind of constant self-doubt can be paralyzing and ultimately detrimental to your writing process.

So, I want you to understand and think: It's okay to tell sometimes. You're not a bad writer for using telling in your work. In fact, knowing when and how to use telling effectively is a sign of a skilled writer.

Here's some practical ways to incorporate this mindset into your writing process:

First Draft Freedom: When you're writing your first draft, give yourself permission to write however it comes out. If that means more telling than showing, that's absolutely fine. The important thing is to get the story down. You can always revise and add more "showing" elements later if needed.

Revision with Purpose: When you're revising, don't automatically change every instance of telling to showing. Instead, ask yourself: Does this serve the story better as telling or showing? Consider the pacing, the importance of the information, and how it fits into the overall narrative.

Beta Readers and Feedback: When you're getting feedback on your work, pay attention to how readers respond to different sections. If they're engaged and understanding the story, then your balance of showing and telling is probably working well, regardless of which technique you're using more.

Study Your Favorite Authors: Take some time to analyze how your favorite writers use showing and telling. You might be surprised to find more instances of effective telling than you expected.

Practice Both Techniques (Important): Set aside some time to practice both showing and telling. Write the same scene twice, once focusing on showing and once on telling. This can help you develop a feel for when each technique is most effective.

Now, let's address another important point: the evolution of writing styles and reader preferences. The "show, don't tell" rule gained popularity in the early 20th century with the rise of modernist literature. But writing styles and reader tastes have continued to evolve since then.

In our current fast-paced world, where people are often reading on devices and in shorter bursts, there's sometimes a preference for more direct, efficient storytelling. This doesn't mean that showing is out of style, but it does mean that there's often room for more telling than strict adherence to "show, don't tell" would allow.

Moreover, diverse voices in literature are challenging traditional Western writing norms, including the emphasis on showing over telling. Some cultures have strong storytelling traditions that lean more heavily on telling, and as the literary world becomes more inclusive, we're seeing a beautiful variety of styles that blend showing and telling in new and exciting ways.

This brings me to an important point: your voice matters. Your unique way of telling stories is valuable. Don't let rigid adherence to any writing rule, including "show, don't tell," stifle your natural voice or the story you want to tell.

Remember, rules in writing are more like guidelines. They're tools to help us improve our craft, not unbreakable laws. The most important rule is to engage your reader and tell your story effectively. If that means more telling than the conventional wisdom suggests, then so be it.

As I wrap up this discussion, I want to leave you with a challenge: In your next writing session, consciously use both showing and telling. Pay attention to how each technique feels, how it serves your story, and how it affects the rhythm of your writing. You might discover new ways to blend these techniques that work perfectly for your unique style.

Writing is an art, not a science. There's no perfect formula, no one-size-fits-all approach. It's about finding what works for you, your story, and your readers. So embrace both showing and telling. Use them as the powerful tools they are, and don't be afraid to break the "rules" when your instincts tell you to.

Remember, every great writer started where you are now, learning the rules and then figuring out when and how to break them effectively. You're part of a long, proud tradition of storytellers, each finding their own path through the winding forest of words.

Keep writing, keep growing, and keep believing in yourself. You've got this!

Happy writing! 💖✍️ - Rin T.

Before you go, why not join us at The Write Right Society? We're a supportive Tumblr community where writers lift each other up. Whether you're a newbie or a pro, we'd love to have you! Share your work, get feedback, and connect with fellow wordsmiths, writers and aspiring authors. 

[motherofdogs1010]

Guys Not My Age III (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: They say sometimes older men are better when it comes to relationships, but Y/N finds that isn't always the case when she wakes up in bed with a certain younger man after breaking up with a certain Winter Soldier

Warnings: 18+ only, age gap relationship, older woman/younger man!, everyone is over 18!, fratboy!Peter Parker, cheater!Bucky, computergenius!reader, hacker!reader, toxicex!Bucky, consensual sex, un-consensual voyeurism (Peter knows tho), heavy smut, mentions of oral sex, unprotected sex, eventual pregnancy Added Warnings: HYDRA, brief talks of a breeding program, disapproving family

!Ageless/Minor Blogs will not be added to any taglists!

Banner by @vase-of-lilies Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist

Time had passed and her shoulder had healed amazingly, thanks to the vaccine that Bruce and Dr. Cho had been working on for faster healing.

"HYDRA is planning on a breeding program", Y/N began, showing the evidence she had retrieved from the drive. "They know they can't replicate the Zola's serum so they want to make more soldiers by impregnating women with sperm from their soldiers in hopes of having a natural birthed, super soldier."

"It looks like they were planning on re-capturing the remaining, alive Winter Soldiers along with women that fit their category of fertility to start up the program."

"Well, I'll be damned", Tony breathed, leaning back in his seat with his arms folded behind his head.

Peter had been sitting beside her when she had unearthed the material, finding the documents of what fertility drugs were to be used, the type of women they were to search for and the list of living Winter Soldiers they were to use.

"So it's safe to assume that they want ol' Robocop here", Sam added with a nod towards Bucky.

She nodded, "along with five other living soldiers that were injected. I made sure to download all the information into your tablets."

She saw Peter scrolling through his, noting the slight disheveled appearance he wore and a knowing thought crossed her mind as she knew she was the cause of it.

It wasn't entirely her fault.

She was blaming the fact she was ovulating this week for her cornering Peter before the meeting and getting down on her knees for him, giving him a sloppy blowjob in the hallway where anyone could see.

Not that Peter minded, he was more than happy to receive her sudden surprise with the promise of extending the thanks after the meeting.

She felt her cunt clench in waiting anticipation as she saw Peter look at over from his spot and a dirty grin graced his pretty face.

Oh, how she loved dating a younger man sometimes.

Was it wrong for her to be feeling this when she was speaking at the briefing of her findings?

Possibly, but the way that Peter looked at her with those chocolate brown eyes made her feel less guilty.

~

The overall consensus had been made that Bucky would not be allowed out on missions for awhile while they continued to explore this finding.

Bucky felt pissed about the whole thing if he was being honest on top of everything else.

He only felt more anger at seeing the eye fucking Peter was giving Y/N and how she seemed to revel in it. No one else seemed to notice it or even cared to acknowledge it and he was fucking done with the whole situation.

Which led him to now, walking towards her office (which she had requested to be hidden away from the labs for her own privacy) to confront his ex-girlfriend.

How dare she move on so quickly? Was she not ashamed at the fact she was dating someone younger than her?

When Bucky had tried to express his thoughts to Steve, he was quickly shot down with a look and glare. It seemed only Dot shared his sentiments, but the only good thing about the airhead was her pussy and even that was not that great anymore.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed the sound of moaning and cries of pleasure escaping the room, and once his ears caught the noise, he simmered more with rage.

But curiosity got the better of him as he slowly and carefully opened the door and the sight before him made his blood just continue to boil.

~

The sight of his girlfriend, naked and sweaty with her head lolled back as sweet sounds of sinful pleasure escaping her swollen lips while she rode his cock like a pro made Peter feel like the luckiest guy in the multiverse.

"Fuck, babe", Peter groaned as he gripped her hips and thrusting up into her, matching her rhythm.

Her pussy seemed to be on a mission to milk him for everything he was worth as Y/N swirled her hips as she leaned back, her hands on his thighs. It gave him a clear view of her drooling, stretched pussy sucking him in and he brought his thumb to her swollen clit, rubbing precise and firm circles that made her moans go louder.

"Peter", Y/N sobbed, her rhythm becoming more sloppy and desperate.

"Need some help, pretty?" Peter teased.

"Ye- oh god!" Peter managed to rearrange them with her on her back, her legs resting on his shoulders and the new angle only had them more desperate.

Y/N clawed down his biceps as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Peter grinned at the sight of his girlfriend's pleasure before letting out a loud groan as he felt her pussy clench around him and his thrusts becoming sloppy as he could feel his balls drawing up.

He quickened his attention on her clit, rubbing harsher in a way he knew made her writhe and shake.

"C'mon baby", Peter encouraged. "Cum on this dick."

He watched as her eyes began to flutter and arch her back, her hard nipples pressing into him as he felt her pussy spasm as her mouth dropped in a silent scream as a powerful stream shot out from her.

Amazement filled Peter before his own orgasm took over, his own eyes clenching as he cummed in her.

He hoped Bucky enjoyed the show.

Especially since he made Y/N squirt and Bucky never could.

Her stomach felt like it was in knots as she felt her heart beating in her chest as she sat at the table. Her stomach rolled with nausea as she felt the stare of the woman across from her as even Peter seemed uncomfortable with the gaze of his aunt.

So far, meeting Peter's Aunt May seemed to not be going well for her.

Y/N knew not everyone would be okay with the near ten year age gap between her and Peter, but maybe she had grown accustomed to the small bubble within the Avengers that were accepting of their relationship (she excluded Bucky because his ass didn't count).

"So", Peter said with a strained smile. "How's work been for you, Aunt May?"

"It's been fine", May responded with a quirked brow. "So, Y/N, Peter tells me that you work as a hacker?"

"Yes", Y/N said with a small smile. "Tony's the one that found me."

"And I imagine you went to school for that?"

"Not... exactly", Y/N said with a squirm.

Her stomach rolled and twisted, the climbing feeling of nausea going up her throat and her skin felt a bit clammy. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears as the vomit began to crawl up her throat, but she swallowed it down.

Eventually, she managed to excuse herself to the bathroom where Y/N found herself hunched over the toilet, holding back the hairs trying to worm their way into her mouth.

Her mind swirled with the look of un-acceptance from Peter's Aunt and it made her stomach clench, and her heart feel heavy. Worried filled her as she thought about it, knowing how highly Peter thought of his aunt.

If she was honest, Peter had been the only boyfriend that wasn't ashamed of being with her due to her soft, curvy figure. She hadn't thought that she would find herself with someone as young as Peter, but nowadays it was hard to think of living a life without Peter.

And as she dry heaved into the toilet, it never occurred to her in that moment how late her period had been and that the un-opened box of pads rested in her bathroom...

TAGLIST

@chalahyung01 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @yesshewrites1 @alwaaaysadream @theoraekenslover

[letternotekisses]

nghhh your blog has made me think of the idea of Doomfist giving his assistant to Ramattra as a way of bridging an alliance between Talon and Null sector....Ram using the assistant as a little stress toy......help

Akande knows how to sweeten a deal.

He’s negotiated and bartered with so many powerful men that swaying them comes to be like second nature for him, but this time it’s a little different. This is no man and there’s no greedy human nature Akande can target. There is no weakness.

Your heels clack against the glossy mahogany flooring as you patter beside him, clutching important notices and valuable documents close to your chest like they might fly away. And you’re tittering away with a casualness that he’d let no another agent of his get away with, but Akande isn’t the only one listening.

Ramattra tilted his head with something that could only be described as curiosity. Such a small thing, you were. Surrounded by dangerous killers and meticulous assassins that would exploit your every weakness should you let down your guard, yet you led him through the halls with all the grace and confidence of a pampered feline pet.

Nothing you were saying was of any importance to the omnic, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away, intently listening to every word that fell from your soft, pouty lips. You were valuable to Akande somehow, special in a way that had Ramattra craving a personal insight.

“My assistant will help you get settled in.”

Akande smiles at him, both knowing and smug as he offers him a key to what Ramattra assumes is the room he’ll be staying in. It is then when the omnic realises he’s been caught staring, but Akande only seems all too pleased.

He’d found his bartering chip, squeezed into an all too tight skirt and a low cut blouse.

—

It’s when you take him to the hilt that Ramattra finally decides on his answer.

Such a soft, sweet little thing you are. Panting into the air as he splays a hand onto your lower back, digging his metal fingers into the fat of your hips to drag you down further. Humans, so malleable, so weak, so soft. Your cunt flutters around the silicone of his cock, sucking him impossibly deeper despite the already snug fit.

“Ambitious, aren’t you?” Ramattra snarls, shifting his hips forward to bump the fat tip of his cock deeper, to bully himself into the softest parts of you. You’re whimpering into the satin sheets like a bitch in heat and it urges him to break you, to cup the soft pudge of your tummy and force himself as deep as he could ever possibly go.

Ramattra had little need for pleasures of the flesh, but there was something all too gratifying about watching you urge yourself on something much too big for you to take. For someone so insignificant, Ramattra was all too tempted to indulge in you, after all, you’d all but been handed over to him on a silver platter.

“Please..” You whine, your begging quickly silenced by a powerful pump of his hips, the cables attached to his head falling past his shoulders in disheveled waves. He wants to tear into your softness. Bury himself inside you and never come back out. He’d give Akande all of the resources he could want just for a few extra minutes between your plush thighs.

He all but cackles, the noise deep and synthetic as he watches your cunt flutter greedily around him. Ramattra pins you down by the back of your neck, revelling in your heat as it bleeds into his hands, warming the metal when he thumbs your nape in a soothing manner.

“Come on my cock, little assistant,” He purrs, his voice staticky with want, “And I will reward your excellence.”

[sauce-salad-bowl]

drabble idea where sans is an author underground and reader is just a video game character okay send blog post it’s under there 🤝🤝

This is embarrassing. He doesn’t even know what to write. Sans scoots away from the empty document on his computer, face buried deep in his hands. Maybe he should just cut his losses and go to sleep. Again.

But he doesn’t go to sleep. He mopes for a minute, then glances back at his computer and sighs, pulling himself closer again. Instead of agonizing over the blank page, he opens the UnderNet.

Scrolling will totally help him forget his problems.

And it does, for a few minutes.

He leaves five or twelve comments on Papyrus’ page, swipes through a few videos, only to quickly stumble onto another drawing of you. The caption says:

‘miss this game sm. who’s ur fave character? ^.^’ His thumb hovers over the keypad for a moment, then he ‘likes’ it.

It was a few years ago from now when he was getting coffee with Alphys, and she was gabbing to him about the things she had found in Waterfall. He was surprised when she handed him a copy of a video game he had never seen before.

“keep it, alph. you’ll appreciate it more than me.” Sans tried to respectfully decline, honestly thinking he’d be too lazy to play.

But Alphys insisted, her claw tapping the package. “I found a b-bunch of copies, actually. I-I’ve been trying to p-pass them around, get a bunch of p-people i-into it.”

“and how many you got so far?” he asked, placing his skull in his palm.

“Uhm, Undyne! A-and Asgore, for a f-few minutes…” She pushed the game towards him on the table. “And th-they both liked it! C-Can you just try it out?”

Sans shrugged and took the game from her, doubting that he would. But he could give it to Papyrus, maybe he’d get a kick out of it. He glanced at the cover, decorated with humans in odd-looking outfits. You didn’t stick out to him, not at first.

The video game ended up on the bookstand, under his quantum physics/joke textbook, for weeks. He was a busy guy, okay?

It would’ve sat there longer too, had Undyne not been over soon after. She grabbed the dusty case and insisted that they all play, waving it around wildly.

“It’s got swords and chainsaws, awesome characters, and a totally badass story! We’ve gotta take turns between levels!” Her eye had sparkled, and Papyrus had squealed at the thought, and that was how Sans found himself on the couch, sandwiched between them and watching them play.

It was a simple RPG adventure. And honestly, it didn’t seem like anything crazy to him, so he was content with just watching. But of course after a while his brother was shoving a controller in his hand and insisting he have a turn.

“alright, alright. ulna’t get your radius in a twist.”

“OH MY GOD, SANS. JUST PLAY.”

He snorted, but complied, actually enjoying solving some of the puzzles. He thought the art style was neat, too. And the NPCs were kind of interesting.

Especially you.

You were a loyal companion to Sans’ character, and he immediately noticed how… endeared he was by you. Your dialogue genuinely made him laugh out loud— he was definitely stealing some of your material. And your character just had this… aura, no, mystery about you, like you knew something more than he did.

Maybe this game was cooler than he thought.

Sans found himself quickly exhausting your dialogue options. He was just curious about what you had to say. When Undyne started to complain, he blinked, and handed the controller to her. He’d gotten distracted.

It’s only really spiraled from there. After playing the whole thing through right after Undyne left, he’s been a fan of the game ever since.

But if someone really asked him about it, he’s not sure what he would say. He liked it, but not much else. Because he wants to seem casual about it. He is casual about it.

That’s why he’s here now, a few years later, struggling to get down thoughts about you onto his keyboard. Super casual indeed.

He sucks in a breath, finally opening the document page again. You didn’t just fascinate him. He thought about you constantly, more than he’d like to admit. He found himself seeking you out outside your game, which worked well since it became pretty popular on UnderNet. He’s read his fair share of theories about you, only half of which he agrees with.

He wasn’t sure at all what to make of it, but he knew he liked thinking about you a lot. Sans had a lot of time for daydreaming as a sentry, since no humans ever actually came through. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t imagine you, shuffling past him in the snowy forrest.

Can he write about that? Sans puts down a few sentences, but it doesn’t really go anywhere, so he deletes it.

It’s not like he hasn’t tried with, y’know, real people. But he’s found that it’s a lot of effort to make relationships work. Sans has had a few great ones, but things always just sort of fizzled out. He hasn’t given up on it, but there are only so many folks down here. And he has a funny habit of finding his way back to you.

Is his little crush odd? Uh, yeah, maybe. But when his chest swells at the thought of you, or he thinks of a joke he just wishes he could tell you, he has to admit that he’s never really felt like this before.

He startles at the sound of pots banging downstairs. Papyrus, probably starting on dinner. For some reason, he wonders if you’d like his brother’s cooking. He pictures you at the table, eating and laughing with them in their living room. It’s sweet, but he shakes his head. Still underground. Not quite what he wanted.

When he thinks about what would really make him happy, he sees himself on the surface. The sun is hot against his face, and there’s a sky that somehow never stops. And when he looks, the hand entwined with his is yours.

Suddenly, he knows what he wants to write about.

+++++

hi what’d you think?? i was sitting in bed and gardening, and this idea that i’ve had for a while kept bugging me, so i opened my drafts and had to expel. i’ve had writers block all day so im hype that i actually came up with something, even if it’s not what i planned on writing.

uh i hope it makes sense?? its late where i am, cant tell if it makes sense!! im going to bed 🛌

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: virgin!sub!Jisung x fangirl!Dom!fem!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Corruption kink (ish). Blowjob. He's a lil lost in the sauce.

| wc: 5.5k

| aurora's note: shout out to @botchedbrat for being my co-conspirator for this one. pt 2 coming soon on her blog hehehee

| part two (written by @botchedbrat) // part three

What an odd turn of events the night of your concert took… On the way to the stadium, you and your friends talked about getting burgers after the show to cure your inevitable post-concert depression, and once you were in bed, you’d sit down in pajamas and go through all of the freebies you guys collected. It sounded like fun. After all, you just spent hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars going to see NCT Dream live for the first time ever, so why wouldn’t you go early to collect freebies, record all the videos possible, then go home and reflect on the fun night with your friends? But on your way out of the show, you were stopped. A security guard came out from behind  the barricade while the crowds slowly shuffled towards the exit, and he approached your friend group directly. He wore all black and a mask to cover his face… It was leagues different from the stadium’s security who wore bright yellow shirts and looked like they wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed instead of having to make sure some idiot fangirls didn’t try to climb onto the stage.

“My boss wants to talk to you,” he said directly to you, unflinching when you were struck with so much confusion that you looked around at your friends for an explanation they couldn’t provide.

“Am I in trouble?” you asked.

“No.”

So, albeit reluctantly, you handed your bag of freebies and your lightstick to your friends before following the man through the hole in the barricade that was covered up by stadium security once you were in, and you were casually led backstage where the staff was working to take down the set in order to transport it to the next tour stop in two days. Every once in a while, the security guard would glance over his shoulder to make sure that you were following him. Of course you were. There were so many staff members running around that you feared getting lost or dragged away in the chaos of it all, so you stuck close to him. When he dove into a side room, you followed. Standing there was a manager you recognized from Twitter posts of the members at airports— He was Jisung’s manager, specifically… And beside him was a woman you didn’t recognize, but she welcomed you with a smile even though the manager and the security guard didn’t.

“Welcome,” she said kindly. Your anxiety was eased by her somewhat. “Sorry for jumping you like this and everything, I know you’re probably confused and a bit scared.” You blushed in response, unsure of what to say. Were you in trouble… Or… “One of our bosses wants to talk to you privately later, but our job is to make sure that you’re okay with talking to him, and that whatever kind of… conversation… happens, that it stays private between the two of you.”

Oh?

She gestured to the manager who put a small stack of papers on the coffee table that sat between you and them. “I’m a lawyer for SM, and this is one of the managers for the group. If you’d like to talk to our boss as much as he’d like to talk to you, we’re here to witness before anything else happens that you sign these papers.”

You stepped forward to find what you already knew in the back of your mind since you were stopped with your friends, yet you refused to admit it until you saw the words “NON-DISCLOSURE AGREEMENT” typed at the top of the document. Fuck. Okay… Sure… It was happening… The unrealistic Y/N type of story you read a million times over on the internet somehow graced your reality, and of all people, it seemed that it was Jisung who wanted to “talk” to you… Fuck. Shit. Okay. Fuck.

“You don’t have to sign, if you don’t want to. I want to make that clear,” the lawyer continued.

“No, I’ll sign,” you replied quickly before your thoughts could catch up to your mouth. You blushed at your eagerness. It seemed a bit pathetic to jump at the opportunity so quickly with little to no information from the other three people standing in the room— And why the hell did Jisung want to “talk” to you? What the fuck was going on!

The lawyer smiled and sat on the couch beside the coffee table, and she gestured for you to join her, so you did. The security guard remained at the door, and the manager sat across from you. “All this legal nonsense basically just states that you can’t tell anyone about what happens tonight between you and any of the members of the group and any staff members, including myself. You can’t record audio or visuals of any situation. You can’t post any details on social media. If you break any of these regulations, then the company has the right to sue you for breach of contract, and there’s usually a fine involved. If any kind of pornography were to be recorded and/or distributed, you’ll be sued by the company for breach of contract and distribution of revenge pornography.” She chuckled nervously to mirror your own reaction, then she put a hand on your shoulder to comfort you. “I know it’s overwhelming. Again, you don’t have to sign, and you’re free to leave at any point. And you should know that if anything illegal happens, you do have the right to go to the police, and you won’t be sued for breach of contract. Okay?”

You nodded vaguely.

“We’ll give you a few minutes to read and decide if you still want to sign. After that, if you sign, we’ll take you to see our boss. If you don’t want to sign, that’s alright too, we’ll just help you find a way home, alright?”

You nodded again.

“Okay.”

She gestured to the security guard and the manager who stepped out of the room while she went to a mini fridge in the corner of the room so that she could grab a soda as she scrolled through her phone, pretending not to hover in order to give you space to make your decision. You’d be stupid not to sign, right? If you were ever allowed to tell your friends— Which, obviously the NDA in front of you was airtight, so you wouldn’t be able to, but… If they knew, and if you didn’t sign, they would slap you silly for fucking up the chance to spend time with Jisung. You had to sign. Of course you did. Right? Shit. Reading the document made it scarier because the whole situation was becoming all too real.

Ah, fuck it.

You picked up the pen next to the papers, and you flipped to the last page to sign. The lawyer immediately looked up and pocketed her phone, striding to return to you so that she could collect the signed papers.

“Alright, I’ll have the security guard outside take you to the hotel the boys are staying at. I’m sure you understand that you’ll be led there discreetly, and once you’re there, you can’t tell anyone about what happens. Yes?”

You nodded again. “Yes.”

“If something happens, though, if you need anything, here’s my number.” She handed you her business card. “And don’t forget, you can always say no… And, um… If you need to leave, you can.”

You stared at her. Was it wrong to sell your life away so carelessly like that? She was distributing her warnings like there was prior experience, and you hoped that it had nothing to do with what you were about to confront. Still, your legs carried you to the door where the security guard was standing, and once the manager in the hallway noticed the signed papers, he walked off to go handle something while the security guard turned to lead you through the corridors of the stadium to the backstage garage. There, a black van was waiting with the engine running. The security guard climbed in, and you followed, then another guard closed the van’s door. With two brief thuds on the backside of the car, the driver started off out of the garage.

The drive to the hotel was a silent one. Neither the driver nor the security guard sitting next to you said anything. While you stared out the window, asking yourself what was going to happen, the security guard texted on his phone. You wondered if it was about work, if he was texting the manager or Jisung about where you were, and that you’d signed the NDA, and that you were shaking with anxiety. How many girls had they done this with? How many different girls had Jisung spotted in the crowd, despite the bright stage lights that made it next to impossible to see anything at all 

At the hotel, everything was just as quiet as the car ride, most people already asleep or at least in the comfort of their rooms, save for the one employee at the front desk in the lobby who only greeted you with a smile as you passed by to follow the security guard to the elevator. No one joined you on the way up to the seventh floor. And no one interrupted you as the security card swiped the key to the sixth room and opened the door for you to step inside.

“He’ll be here in about ten minutes.” That was all he said before closing the door on you.

So you waited. Awkwardly. Standing in the middle of the hotel room, the bed a mess from what you assumed had to have been his mid-day nap before the show, his suitcase left open on the luggage rack at the foot of the bed, his toiletries neatly sorted on the bathroom counter. Boredom struck fast, and though you certainly didn’t feel comfortable touching anything, you decided to look around a bit. He used Crest toothpaste, and whitening strips, which shocked you, truth be told. There were a plethora of hair and skin care products that all had Korean labels, so you were unsure what they were all for.

Before you knew it, the front door was opening, and in walked Jisung Park. He hesitated in the doorway, the door still open, the security guard and his manager standing behind him. For a moment, he stared at you in silence. While you were still dressed to the nines for the concert, Jisung was already in a matching set of gray sweats and wearing his glasses instead of contacts. The only remnants from the concert were the sparkly stickers on his cheek and his stage make up.

He turned to whisper something in Korean to the men behind him before he quietly closed the door and stayed with his back turned to you for a minute. You were suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. There he was, an idol, the idol of your favorite group, and yet you couldn’t seem to jump with excitement because of his mundane reaction to having a woman— A fangirl— waiting for him in his hotel room. Were you not what he wanted? Did he mean for one of your other friends to be pulled out of the crowd?

Then, with swift, quick steps, Jisung walked right past you without a second glance. Maybe he was acting so casual because he was used to it, and it was you who was doing something wrong. Were you supposed to be on the bed already? Or waiting on the couch? Were you supposed to look at him or keep your eyes down? Were you supposed to greet him or was the whole exchange meant to be silent? Maybe he just wanted to fuck you then toss you to the side like idols were rumored to do.

Jisung let out a shaky sigh. He turned to you slowly, finally sending a smile in your direction before bowing at the hip and introducing himself in English… As if he needed to explain to you who he was… Only hours prior you’d been screaming his name at the top of your lungs while fighting to get his attention in the sea of other fangirls. Of course you knew who he fucking was, why else would you have signed that NDA? Still, you did the polite thing by introducing yourself briefly and quietly, unsure if he really cared for your name or not.

He stared at you for another moment. “Do you want anything? Water? Soda? Alcohol? I can order room service.”

You shook your head. “I’m alright, thank you.”

And then he stared at you again. “You’re a fan, yes?” He walked to the mini fridge to pull out a soda. You nodded. “Am I your favorite?”

“Yes.”

He blushed down at the can in his hand while he struggled to open it. You noticed then that his hands were shaking and his foot was tapping against the carpet nervously. He looked almost as anxious as you.

“Sorry, I’ve just...  I don’t know what I’m doing. This was a bad idea, I think… Fucking Jeno…”

“Hey, listen, we don’t have to do anything.”

Jisung looked at you suddenly, the panic in his eyes wavering with the little bit of hope provided by your words. “Jjinja?”

“Yeah.”

He exhaled deeply. “I’m sorry about all this.” He set down the soda, abandoning the thought of fighting to open it any longer. “Was, um, was the show fun?”

“My friends and I had a lot of fun. It’s the first time we’ve seen you perform live. Did you have fun?”

“Yes.” His English seemed mildly limited, so he kept his answers brief in order to not embarrass himself, not that you would’ve minded.

Silence lingered again, the two of you unsure of what to do with yourselves. Eventually, Jisung figured it was more comfortable to pass the awkward time by sitting on the couch, his coke defrosting on the table next to him. Did he not like you? Did he not want you? Was he too shy or nice to kick you out? You wished he would just say what was on his mind rather than leave you to fend for yourself, flailing desperately in a situation you had no familiarity with. So in an attempt to figure out what he actually wanted, you poked the bear.

“We could try one thing, if you wanted.”

Like a deer lost in headlights, Jisung continued to stare at you with wide eyes behind his glasses. “Like what?”

“I could give you a blow job.”

He choked on air.

“But if you don’t want to, we can just talk… Or I can leave… Whatever makes you happy.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he muttered under his breath, looking down at his fidgeting hands. 

You didn’t really catch what he said. The quiet volume of his scared voice and the broken English made you reconsider if you even heard it at all.

Warily sitting next to him, you pried, “What do you mean?”

Jisung bit his swollen bottom lip. “I’ve never…” And then he rubbed a cool palm on the back of his neck to keep it from turning red with embarrassment, even though it was far too late. “I’ve never, um… Done that.”

For a moment, you wondered if there was a language barrier blocking you from understanding what he really meant. Then he looked at you with those wide, innocent eyes, and you knew the truth. He really hadn’t… Not even a blowjob? Or fingering a girl? Was that why he was so shy with  you— Not because you were a fan in his hotel room? You couldn’t help but laugh with relief. Jisung’s face fell and his body slumped with defeat.

“I’m not laughing at you!” you promised through one last giggle. “I thought you just didn’t like me or something.”

He panicked. “No, no! I think you’re really pretty…” He smiled through a blush that made him avert his gaze once more. “Jjinja… Geundae…” The cogs in his brain were working to find the right words in English. “I am… embarrassed… I don’t know what to do.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything.”

That made him appear more self-conscious.

“I could teach you.”

It looked like he was about to pass out when you said that, endless possibilities forming behind his eyes that were slowly glazing over with lust. His eyes were so cute. When he looked like he was silently pleading for you to do just that, because he couldn’t bring himself to say the words confidently, you just about swooned thanks to the cuteness aggression twisting in your stomach. It was a wonder how a guy like him was a virgin with no experience. Since he was an idol, you just assumed off the bat, and because of the lawyer’s concerning warnings at the stadium, that he’d pulled aside plenty of girls and fucked them into different hotel mattresses then had them escorted out once he was done. But no. It sounded like maybe some of the others were used to that, but not Jisung. His bouncing leg and fidgeting hands over his lap directed your attention down to the erection growing in his sweatpants. Was he really that worked up just at the thought of having a fan blow him off? He should’ve just said so the second he walked through the front door instead of making you think he was regretting asking for you.

Still, you triple checked for consent before daring to touch him. “Do you want to?” It was as simple as you could make the question for him.

“Ne— Yes! Yes…” He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

Finally, with a smile, you inched closer to him on the couch, his body tensing up slightly in response, but he didn’t move or say anything to stop you. You stared at his lips while he stared at your tits. Obviously you’d worn something revealing in the hopes of getting your silly Y/N moment, but it was a pipe dream at the time, and now it was your reality.

“Here.” You took one of his shaky hands from his lap and lifted it to your breasts, guiding him to press his palm over one of them. He let out a shaky breath that made you feel the warmth on the tip of your nose. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” He nodded quickly. “When?”

“In high school… And once at the company… And… on New Year's Eve.”

He remembered all of his kisses? Adorable.

“Kiss me, then.”

Jisung hesitated, his breath still hot on your nose; But with a light squeeze around your covered boob, he leaned in and pressed his plump lips against yours. That was all he did. He pecked you, but he didn’t put effort into making out with you, with or without tongue. Maybe that was all those silly kisses in the past had been. So instead of interrogating him more, you took the lead, showing him how to do it properly by tilting your head the other way then sticking your tongue into his mouth. Jisung moaned followed by another squeeze that made you mewl in response.

It took him a bit to learn. The noticeable hesitancy in his kisses and touches indicated that he was worried about scaring you off at any moment, but you tried your best to encourage him by leaning more into him and squeezing your hand over his so that he would massage your breasts more. Of his own volition, his other hand went to your chest as well. You grinned against his lips before drifting to kiss his sharp jawline that all your friends fawned over in group chats, then you left a trail of kisses down to his neck. You knew that you couldn’t leave any marks. As fun as it would be to leave a hickey there to let the rest of the world know that you were the first person who ever got him off, it would be more of a hassle to cover it with makeup and hide it until the bruising subsided than it was worse. She’d probably get yelled at by his manager or the group’s lawyer. So you refrained from doing everything you wanted…

Instead, you left gentle, fluttering kisses that made Jisung moan up into the still hotel air. He was so sensitive. Had no one kissed the rest of his body before? Had it only been his lips? Surely whoever it was at the company that kissed him— Perhaps another idol— or whichever lucky dunk girl kissed him on New Years thought to kiss his neck and collarbones. How could they not? His skin was so perfect, and the contrast between his natural skin tone and the makeup he was wearing made your head spin. You thought about what he would look like bare faced… Unfortunate that you would never get to see it up close. The best you were ever going to get was him in sweats and stage make up, his erection in full throttle in his pants.

Your hand moved from your own lap to his knee, causing Jisung to jolt slightly and whimper. You turned to kiss the other side of his neck. Jisung’s thumbs tried to stimulate your nipples over your clothes, but there was simply too much fabric in the way, so he whined again and went back to massaging them. However, his movements came to a standstill when you ran your splayed left hand up his thigh before settling directly over his hard-on.

“Ssibal,” he moaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

Your free hand grabbed his chin. “Look at me.” So he did, his eyes glossed over with so much pleasure that he couldn’t open them all the way. When you palmed him briefly, Jisung let out a gasp and hunched forward slightly, his eyes really struggling to stay open for you now. “Does it feel good?”

“Ne.”

As your hand found the drawstring of his sweatpants, you released his chin so that you could slide off the couch and fall to your knees, multitasking between undoing his pants and crawling between his legs that he spread in order to accommodate you while he leaned back against the couch. Jisung watched you studiously. You could tell that behind those glasses of his, he was trying to memorize every detail of you and what you were doing for his spank-bank. The way you looked up at him through your lashes while you expertly untied his pants and helped him lift his hips so that you could pull his sweats down to his ankles. The way you teased him over his boxers for a minute just to get a visceral reaction out of him that made you giggle. The way you took off his underwear so easily. And, of course, what that first touch around his cock felt like.

Jisung’s hands balled into fists around the hem of his sweatshirt. “Fuck—” When your thumb ran over his tip, he shivered and squeezed his thighs together. “Fuck—“

You grinned. Poor thing already couldn’t tell left from right or up from down. Perhaps you could remind him by slowly pumping your fist up and down his length. Jisung wasn’t exactly what you expected. In all the fanfics you’d read about him, and all the times you speculated with friends, you never really stopped to imagine anything beyond his length. People liked to say he had a big cock. He did. Though, much of it had to do with said length you always theorized over, while his girth was just enough to fit in your hand that was wrapped around it. His tip was a dark shade somewhere between brown and pink, and the rest of him was dark and veiny… like his shaking hands. 

“You can touch me,” you told him.

His hands remained clasped around the fabric of his sweatshirt. You saw a bit of hesitancy, a twitch like he wanted to touch you, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it for whatever reason, so you continued what you were doing, jerking him off slowly until you saw precum seeping out of his tip. You grinned before licking it up suddenly. Jisung groaned and jerked again, his hands reaching to touch you before they retreated to his sweatshirt again. You watched him through your lashes as you replaced your fist with your mouth wrapped around his tip, your cheeks hollowing before you sunk down. His body couldn’t keep still. Even though you were trapped between his knees, his legs were desperately trying to close in around your shoulders, and his feet were tapping against the carpet at the same fast pace that his long, veiny fingers were fiddling with his sweatshirt.

As you came up for air, your hand pumped him slowly, and you asked with a grin, “Is this okay?”

He nodded desperately. “Please don’t stop.”

You obliged his pathetic plea, your mouth sinking back down, taking in his entire length until your nose bumped his shaved pubic bone. He whimpered like a wounded puppy, but his hips bucked up gently to encourage you to keep going. So you did. You found a steady rhythm switching between sucking him off and jerking him off, making sure to swallow every bit of sticky pre-cum he leaked into your mouth. He was covered in drool, but he didn’t seem to mind since it provided more lubrication for you to go faster and faster, prying the cutest, most pitiful moans you had ever heard in your entire life. Honestly, by the looks and sounds coming from him, he wasn’t going to last much longer. Virgins. They were always the most sensitive and eager to cum quickly.

“Gidarida— Ssibal, I’m cumming, fuck—”

There it was.

Jisung bit his lip and bucked up into your mouth while holding your head down. With his strong hold on you, all you could really do was use your tongue to rub against his cock while he rode out his orgasm. The amount of cum that filled your mouth was slightly surprising— You tried your best to swallow, but you were running out of air, until he finally released you, giving you a chance to lift up and breathe before cleaning up the mess dripping down his length. He slumped with an exhausted grunt.

After catching his breath for a moment, he opened his eyes to look down at you while you were wiping your lips with your thumb. “Are you okay?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah.”

“Sorry if I… Um… If you couldn’t breathe…”

You laughed out loud. “I’m fine, I promise. Did it feel good?”

Jisung blushed a bright color of red while nodding. He lifted his hips so that he could put his pants back on before raising his hood over his shaggy black hair.

When he noticed you moving to stand on your feet, Jisung leaned forward to offer his hands for you, which you gladly took, using his strength and leverage to push yourself up; However, once you were up, Jisung didn’t move you to the couch like you wanted, nor did he start leading you towards the front door like you half expected. No, Jisung acted like a gentleman, leading you to the bed where he had you sit down comfortably.

“I have some clean clothes you can wear if you want to be more comfortable,” he offered shyly.

Now it was your turn to stare like a deer lost in headlights. Why was he offering his clothes to you? How could he offer up something like that so freely— Then again, maybe wearing his clothes was more tame than sucking him off after only just meeting him for the first time.

“Sure.”

Jisung turned to his suitcase on the luggage rack and he began digging around for some clothes.

“And I’ll take you up on that water now,” you croaked.

Jisung nodded obediently, rushing to the mini fridge to grab a bottle before handing it to you then going back to looking for clothes. He ended up retrieving one of the merch shirts available at the stadium earlier— One that you actually bought despite your achingly empty wallet— and a pair of gray sweats eerily similar to his. After handing the clothes to you, he whispered something about going to wash his face in the bathroom in the meantime. You watched as Jisung timidly scurried to the bathroom, closing the door behind him, either for his privacy or his own, you weren't too sure, and then you heard the sink running. For a good thirty seconds, you were paralyzed on the bed, holding his clothes in your hands, staring at the couch you’d just given him a blowjob on. Jisung Park had only kissed four people in his lifetime, and  you were one of them. Even worse, you were the first and only person to ever suck him off… The first and only person to ever make him cum… What the fuck…

You forced yourself out of your trance of disbelief so that you could change before he was done. You folded your own clothes neatly since you’d probably have to wear them out of the hotel later, but you kept your underwear and bra on for safety purposes. Besides, it was his clothes you were wearing, you felt too awkward to go completely naked underneath. And as you were taking down your hair, you heard the water shut off followed by Jisung asking if he could come out. When you told him it was safe, the door reopened and he stepped out.

He gulped when he saw you. “You really are very pretty.”

To hide your blush, you drank from the water bottle he gave you. Jisung moved across the hotel room, initiating the next segment of the night where he laid on his side in the messy bed, leaving plenty of space for you while he watched you anticipatingly.

“I thought you didn’t want to fuck.”

“I don’t,” he said with the most amount of confidence you’d heard from him all night, even in comparison to when he was on stage. “I just don’t want you to leave yet. Is that okay?”

The way you easily slid into bed, setting the water bottle down on the bedside table, was enough of an answer, but you still entertained him with a quiet, “That’s okay.”

Jisung shifted as you both worked to pull the covers up your torsos to keep warm. “I was going to wear that shirt for sound check tomorrow,” he admitted with a nervous chuckle. “It was the only clean one I had left.” You panicked, immediately sitting up to take it off while apologizing for being an inconvenience, but Jisung reached out to stop you. Both of you paused with his hands on your wrists. “It’s okay. I like seeing you wear it better.”

You looked away from him due to your own self-consciousness as you laid back down with him.

Both of you settled in the bed comfortably, his elbow propped on his pillow so that his hand could hold up his head while he stared at you. Part of you was too overwhelmed to look at him. Mere hours ago you’d been cheering at his concert as a stranger, and now he knew your name, and you’d sucked his cock. You weren’t really strangers anymore. But you weren’t friends or something other than that either. You were just an awkward one night stand that he would remember as “that one time in a hotel on tour” the next time some lucky girl would ask for his history before taking his virginity. Whoever she would be, she was damn lucky, and she didn’t even know it yet… It was a shame it couldn’t be you, honestly. Not because he was an idol you loved, but because he was so adorable, and hot, and well-equiped to fuck you. The idea of teaching him everything there was to know about fucking a girl, corrupting his innocent, bashful mind made you wet, but you had to clench your legs shut to make sure he wouldn’t find out or get suspicious after you’d change out of his clothes. Whenever that would be. Did he expect you to stay the night? Why else would he give you his clothes? What would the morning look like? What would everything after the morning look like?

“Have you ever thought about visiting Korea?”

You shrugged. “Sometimes. I don’t have money like that though. Not yet, at least. Maybe one day I can go— I always wanted to see a concert there.” You giggled at the thought.

Jisung smiled back at you, his hand falling out from under him so that his cheek could hit the pillow while he continued to stare. He didn’t say anything else. You waited for him to instigate another conversation, and you wished that you could think of something to talk to him about aside from idol life or his personal life. You weren’t sure what was appropriate. But by the time you decided to ask him if he had any pets, Jisung was sound asleep next to you, a content smile still plastered to his face. You smirked and brushed his bangs out of his face.

[onbreakreadlastpost]

Taking a break

I will be uninstalling tumblr during this period and won't be able to reply to any messages. I'm sorry.

I am taking a break. I don't know how long I will be taking a break but in the mean time I won't be using tumblr. This past week I have become overwhelmed with sharing fundraisers to the point that I am spending a significant chunk of my day sharing them. Pushing back things like eating.

To the Palestinians I am letting down, including ones who are in contact with me, I am truly sorry. I made promises of continually sharing campaigns that I knew I couldn't keep. I am so so sorry.

I am diagnosed with ocd and have been for a few years. Recently, it's been getting worse. Wanting to help Palestinians has quickly become an obsession and compulsion for me.

I can't help anyone if I can't help myself first. I hope I am able to help in a more healthy way soon.

If I get money, I will still donate to as many of the campaigns I am aware of as possible.

In the meantime, I will tag a few accounts that Palestinians and anyone fundraising can contact to spread their campaign.

@gazavetters @dlxxv-vetted-donations @bilal-salah0 @sar-soor @myceliacrochet @yellowis4happy

These links may be useful to both Palestinians raising funds and definitely for people looking to donate.

https://www.instagram.com/beesandwatermelons/

I'm sorry and thank you for reading.

[russellsppttemplates]

Carrying it all on your shoulders (Daniel Ricciardo)

Juggling two kids without Daniel proved to be harder than you thought

Note: english is not my first language. I don't get requests for Daniel that often, and dad!Daniel is very fun and cute to write!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem associated with motherhood and parenting, exhaustion, curse words

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Y/N, are you sure you want to do it? I'll do it no problem", your colleague assured you, "even one of the interns can do it, Y/N! Seriously, go home earlier!", she offered.

"I can do it", you added, crossing over the task you had completed on your post it note and writing two more down, "Sophia just started her ballet class and Alice's nursery had a pantomime today so they're keeping the kids for a little longer", you winked at her, gathering the documents and getting ready to complete the task.

Lately, this was your routine. Drop the girls at school and nursery, head up to work, pick the girls up and drive home before homework, playtime, dinner time and then the bedtime routine. When Daniel was still home, it was usually him doing the school and nursery runs so it wasn't like it added a lot to your routine, but it requires more juggling than you initially thought.

By the time you finished the tasks, you were the only one left, shutting down your laptop and closing all of the doors once you had your belongings all packed into your bag, finally calling it a day and heading to your car.

Picking a very sleepy Alice from nursery and then a pouty Sophia from her ballet class, you tried your best to not bother the youngest one, "how was your class today, princess?", you wondered once you stopped at a red light, turning around slightly so you could look at your daughter's face.

"It was okay", she stated, remaining unusually quiet all the way back home as she looked outside the window.

"I'm going to put Alice down for a little nap and then I'll go and help you with your homework, okay?", you said to Sophia as she set her backpack down near her desk, "I don't have any today", she said, closing the door behind her as you walked to Alice's room, laying her down on the mattress and kissing the top of her head, feeling it warmer than usual.

"Oh, babygirl", you cooed, grabbing the thermometer from the medicine cubby and putting it on her ear, silently hoping it was just you.

A minute later, the result showed she was beggining to develop a fever. Sighing, you stored the thermometer in its box and got the medicine from your bathroom, grabbing the syringe to put it in her mouth when you managed to waker her up without a big fuss.

"I know you don't want this, baby", you cooed as Alice stirred in her sleep, big brown eyes looking up at you with tears welling up on them, "take this for mummy, okay?", you pleaded, "you'll feel better, my love", you said, holding her on your arms so she could fall asleep again.

The tiredness came over you pretty quickly, making you sit on the rocking chair, closing your eyes for a little bit and taking a deep breath. Because she was your second child, you didn't feel like the first time Sophia got sick. While in the first time, you ran around like a headless chicken, ready to bring her to the emergency room and messaging her pediatrician until both your parents' and Daniel's parents assured you and your husband you were doing just fine. So far, she didn't seem to bothered by it, just sleep, so you allowed yourself the moment to rest with her, rubbing her back and showering her with kisses and a good cuddle.

"Mummy?", Sophia asked, knocking on the door of her sister's room to announce she was coming in, "what are we having for dinner?", she asked, taking in the sight of you and her sister.

"Oh", you noted, not having given it much thought until that moment, "we can have spaghetti bolognese, I'll just have to boil some pasta - I think we still have some of those heart shapes pastas daddy brought home the other day -, or we could have some chicken nuggets and rice if you prefer that", you offered, thinking of the meal plan meals you had in the fridge as you didn't feel like cooking everything from scratch tonight.

"The spaghetti bolognese is fine", she whispered, coming closer to you and kissing her sister's hand, "is Alice sick?", she questioned.

"She has a bit of a fever, it's probably something she picked up from in nursery, you used to get these every now and again, too", you explained, brushing the curls away from her eyes, "she'll be fine though. Are you feeling okay, beautiful girl?", you checked with her, wanting to be prepared in case both kids came down with this bug.

"I feel fine", she assured you, kissing your cheek before she saw you get up and grabbing the sling, wrapping her sister against you, "do you want to help me with the pasta then?", you smiled, stretching your hand so she could grab it and you both could head to the kitchen.

"I'll set the plates", Sophias offered, making you kiss the top of her head as a thank you and going back to stirring the pasta while the sauce warmed up in another pot.

You ate the food in a quieter environment that usual, and while the reasonable voice in your head told you that it was due to the fact that everyone was a little tired, the snarky and mean one made you feel guilty.

As you washed up the pots and plates from dinner while Sophia spent some time watching cartoons on TV, your mind took you to the mom guilt feelings, rewinding back to all of the times in the last two weeks where you didn't spend time with either of them separately, all of the times where you had to rush to get out of the house all in one piece and all of the things you weren't doing well.

"Soph", you called, "I'm going upstairs to put Alice down, is there anything I can do for you before I go?", you wondered.

"Can I have your phone so I speak to daddy, please?", she asked, "he hasn't called today", she reasoned, "take it from my pocket, bub", you said, tuning your back to her slightly so she could retrieve the device from the denim material, "call me if you need anything, okay?", you checked with her, "okay, mummy! Night night, Alice, I love you", she waved at her sister who blew her a sloppy kiss.

Sitting down on the sofa, Sophia pressed Daniel's contact, smiling at the love heart on the contact despite having seen it many times before, "hey!", Daniel said, a little surprised to see the little girl's face instead of yours.

"Hi daddy!", she smiled, "mummy is putting Alice to sleep so I thought I'd talk to you for a bit", she said, "I have something to tell you".

"Oh, okay, tell me then", Daniel concerned, sensing that what your daughter wanted to tell him was something troubling her.

"I'm confused", she began, "do you remember that book you and mummy read to me and Alice? The one with the monster who is now doctor?", she tried as Daniel nodded.

Anna Llenas was one of your favourite authors for kids' stories and you always read them to your family. The way they spoke about their emotions and how to deal with them became a great tool to get them to talk openly about how they felt and Sophia seemed to be getting it.

"Yes, baby, what about it?", Daniel asked.

"I feel confused, because today I didn't really want to go to the ballet practice but I did it anyway", she said, "so I was really quiet and my friends noticed it, the teacher, too. And mummy, I think she's upset with me, too", she admitted.

"Well, do you remember what the turtle nurse did in the book?", Daniel questioned, "she had her first aid box full of things that make her heart feell warm and good", Sophia mumbled, "go and get it then, princess", Daniel urged.

Sophia pulled the box from under the sofa. The premise of the activity on the book as simple: the kids had to make a box full of things that helped them regulate their emotions and feelings when they felt confused, sad or anxious. While Alice was still too little to make one, Sophia loved the arts and crafts aspect of it and spent the whole afternoon with Daniel making her perfect first aid kit.

"Do you remember what we do with the bee drawing?", Daniel guided, "we take a big breath in, and then a big breath out", he exemplified, doing it three more times with her before speaking up again, "do you feel better?".

"I do, daddy", she said, fishing out something out of the box, "this is the pillow we made with mummy, she sewed it with my favourite soft fabrics", she smiled at the memory, rubbing it on her cheek, "and a picture of us, look!", she showed Daniel the frame with the picture of the first race Alice attended, the four of you in front of the motorhome with big smiles.

"That's right baby, we can also dance it out a little if you want", Daniel offered but she shook her head, showing him the empty bottle of medicine, "this is the 'No medicine', right?", she checked with him. The bottle was of course empty, but the idea was there.

"That's right! Sometimes we have to say no when we don't want to do some things", Daniel advised, remembering the story well enough without having the actual book in front of him, "to adults, we have to be more careful because there are things that we can't run from, but for your ballet classes, for example, you can say you don't want to go if you don't want to, sweetie", he told her earnestly.

"Okay daddy", she whispered, taking another deep breath with her finger following the wavy bee line on the drawing.

"Promise you'll tell me or mummy whenever that happens?", he asked, "I promise, daddy", she smiled, seeming calmer and happier now.

"That's great, Soph. I'm very proud of you for telling me that", he complimented, "Can I ask you about mummy, princess? Is she still upstairs?", he checked with her, not wanting her to think he didn't care about her anymore.

"Yes, daddy", Sophia smiled before pouting, "she's a little tired, and yesterday I think she was crying. I know I wasn't supposed to be up, but I forgot Snuggles by the door", she explained, mentioning her stuffed teddy that she loved to sleep with, "and when I went to pick it up, I heard mummy sniffling, she was doing it quietly but I heard it still", she told him.

Your daughter confirmed his suspicions. Before he left, you spoke about how you were going to handle two kids and your job, and while at the time it seemed good, the practical side of the conversation looked to be otherwise. He called everyday and he noticed you looking more tired each day, but he justified it on the adjustment. Eventually, there would be a day that you finally adapted to the routine, but that was wishful thinking.

"Soph, are you still on the phone with daddy?", you called from the corridor, loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough that it wouldn't disturb Alice in the sleep you worked so hard in getting her to.

"Hey, gorgeous", Daniel said as you appeared on the screen as Sophia handed you your phone back, "I'm going to get ready for bed, mummy, I'll wait for you when you can read my bedtime story", she smiled, kissing you cheek and saying goodbye to Daniel.

"How was your day?", he asked, "busy busy, but it's over now. Things are going at full speed. Sophia was a bit quieter when she arrived, but she seemed better - no need to rub it in that she's a daddy's girl -, and Alice has caught the bug that has been going around", you shrugged your shoulders, "her temperature is slowly cooling down, and other than that, she's fine", you sighed, "and yours?".

Daniel told you about his meetings, not wanting to pester you too much as he could sense the tiredness you felt, "I'll let you go rest, though. Have a good night, gorgeous", he blew you a kiss before your face disappeared.

Opening his laptop, he looked for a flight that would make him arrive just in time for school pick up, "I can't stay for the rest of the week", Daniel said to the members of the team on the meeting room, "Y/N and the girls need me back home, so if that's okay with you, we'll do these remotely", he half stated, looking for any signs of discontentment or disagreement.

As soon as he got the green light, he couldn't wait to finish that sponsorship content meeting, filming everything he needed to as quickly as possible before bidding goodbye to everyone, going back to the hotel room and pack everything up so he could go to the airport. A long flight away from his wife and kids and all would be well.

Alice didn't sleep all that well, and in turn neither did you, so you called in to work to let them know that you would be working from home as best as you could since your little girl was staying home for the day. Sophia seemed well that morning when you dropped her off at school, soothing your heart from the worries that had plagued you.

"It's me and you, baby girl", you said, kissing the top of her head as she slept on the sling, her fist grasping the fabric of your cardigan as you walked around the house, hoping to really settle her when you heard a car outside.

"Why does that look like daddy?", you mumbled out loud as if Alice could give you her opinion, focusing on the man walking up to the front door and giving you enough time to open it.

"Before you say anything, I had to do it and I won't go back", Daniel raised his hands once he set his luggage inside, closing the door behind him and kissing the top of your head and then Alice's as you stood there surprised.

"Danny, we didn't- I-", you tried, and as if your mouth wouldn't let you lie, the words didn't seem to come out of you.

"I came as soon as I could, and I should've come sooner", he said, "I want to be here for you as much as I can and I need to make sure my girls are okay - all three of them", he looked at you, "Soph told me she heard you crying", he stated as he got you to sit on the sofa in the living room.

"Another point for the greatest mother of the year award", you chastised yourself, taking a deep breath to level out your emotions.

"No, none of that", Daniel offered sternly, "you have been juggling everything on your own and it's harder that we originally thought it would be. I'm sorry it took me so long to come", he apoligised, hands undoing the sling so he could get Alice to rest against his chest instead.

"It's been a lot - and frankly, I haven't been very good at delegating at work", you chuckled, smiling at the delicious sight of a sleeping child on Daniel's chest.

"You also need the 'No medicine' Soph has in her box", he giggled despite the seriousness of the conversation, "I can see that you haven't slept all that much, so why don't you go and have a good sleep?", he suggested, "we'll talk a little bit more about this afterwards, but you need to rest first", he said, "I'll go and pick up Sophia, so you just stay here and take care of yourself, okay?", he said, tapping your butt playfully to get you to get up and head to your bedroom.

While you caught up on sleep, Daniel tidied the house as much as he could before picking up Sophia, who excitedly ran up to her father when she saw him and his sister on the parking lot, "Is mummy with you, too?", she wondered, "no, mummy is resting at home. We are going to get some food for dinner so we can all have a cosy night in, how does that sound?", he questioned, earning cheers from her and her sister who qas thankfully feeling much better, giggling in delight as she clapped her hands.

"Who's that? That's mummy, isn't she looking pretty today, Alice? Yes, she is!", Daniel said as you walked into the kitchen, Sophia's notebook open on the table as she wrote on it, "she didn't want to leave the kitchen and I wanted to make pancakes for their snacks, so we found a middle ground", your husband justified himself.

"It's okay", you smiled, kissing everyone's cheeks and tapping Alice's nose, "well, I'm glad you're feeling better, little miss", you said.

"Also, I'm in charge of dinner. I spoke to the people on your team - I'm their boss' husband so I sort of have some power too", he joked, "and they're going to delegate the work these next few days so you can stay home to rest and just work a teeny tiny little bit. I also plan on doing the school pick ups and cooking", he smiled, proud of his plans.

"I'm okay to help, too, Daniel, really", you tried, "no need for that, like I said! I'm going to take charge of the next few days, there's no reason why I can't and it's going to be great", he giggled, "we're in this together, darling, and there's no way you're carrying this all on your shoulders".

[arschbiene]

My super long headcanon on my flavor of Brandenburg below (heavy emphasis on no right or wrong on a very colorful german state with a complex history, this is just how I like to do it).

This is autistically long but I don't care, I am have a personal emergency and this has been keeping me occupied. This is for me but just sharing on my blog. Subject to change xoxoxoxo

Relationship to the Empire:

Begrudgingly obedient when he must be. He understands this is a dance between being bold and meek. Deeply aware that upward mobility is a game of social graces and military posturing.

Manipulates the system, can be very audacious with his demands and maneuvering.

Careful that the Empire and it's representative children always see him in an ideal light. Wants to seem the toothless dog, Gilbert does not understand this is intentional.

After repeated insults from the Emperor, he realizes good behavior brings no real reward and quickly abandons the effort.

Under the influence of his electors/Gilbert he learns to quickly discard any alliance/relationship/document/etc that no longer benefits him.

Eventually he only ever bends the knee to gain favor or stall his enemies.

His self-interest is a matter of survival, not choice. Does things with a grim necessity, including hurting his brother wife.

Power:

He knows power is perceived, not absolute so he obsesses over his image in public. Gilbert's behavior (especially all his attempts to undermine his authority) feels like an assault on all his efforts.

Does not believe power should be shared, wants to own it entirely.

Resists being equals with Gilbert due to a lack of trust, often asserting dominance with tyranny.

Selfish and overbearing in his need for control.

The more politically helpless or stressed he feels, the more pressure he puts on Gilbert.

At his worst: nitpicking, overly critical, and obsessed with perfection when it's unachievable for someone like him. Can be difficult for Gilbert to be around because this gets suffocating fast.

Appearance:

Tall with a leaner build, shows his muscles in the broadness of his shoulders. Think swimmer or ballet athlete type builds. About 17-20 years old in this era. Gilbert is about 15-18.

Breaks the mold with the other german brothers, has a ton of recessive/foriegn traits but shares some bone structure with Gilbert.

Finds it exhausting to dress in full court regalia, but he refuses to be seen without it. Without the hair, the makeup, the polished veneer, he feels plain and forgettable against his golden siblings.

Vain in an insecure way. Deeply invested in appearances. He fixates on how he looks but can’t see his own beauty. Years of jeering from his brothers have left him doubting it.

For war/home/downtime/small meetings: he braids his hair tightly in different styles. Otherwise a small army of servants curls his hair every morning, only for it to unravel into loose waves as the day goes on which infuriates him. Abusive to his staff and then sorry about it.

In public, he tries to impress with the finest clothing and jewelry. In private, he dresses more modestly. He prefers dark colors to look more mature and composed. Gilbert gets dressed in soft colors and youthful/childish styles. He is obsessive about Gilbert's appearance and grows angry if he refuses to conform to his expectations.

Public Face:

His mask is calm, collected, always pleasant, always charming. He is deliberate in his words and movements. He's soft spoken (in a forced way). Gilbert mocks the difference between his public voice and his rougher tones in private.

He does his best to mask his weaknesses and teaches Gilbert to carry himself with a smile, a pleasant and charming attitude, but Gilbert can't really ever soften himself like Dietrich can. Dietrich’s smile rarely reaches his eyes. His eyes are sad and anxious. His resting expressions are weary and drawn, while Gilbert’s are angry and impatient.

Socially competent, but not likable; Lacks an obvious sincerity and warmth, especially to those with more natural charm or confidence. HRE/Austria mistake this as submission, they like this customer service type engagement. His likability improves with time as he grows less guarded.

Loves beautiful and gentle things. Loves nature, animals. Big on music, philosophy, literature, tries to broaden Gilbert’s mind but he remains a boy of sciences,medicine math and politics. Often in conversation, he finds Gilbert boring and boorish and Gilbert finds him effeminate and preachy. Arts boy married to STEM boy. INSANE jealous when Gilbert is more open and receptive to these topics from others.

Psychological Strain:

He’s has some narc traits but without pathologizing him too much. He acts this way because of extreme strain, desperation, stress, and exhaustion.

He is spread thin and constantly tired, always in some level of pain. Thirty years of war have left damage that manifests as a torso/chest burn that weeps and bleeds.

He is always hiding fatigue and pain, which frays his nerves and temper. He can often be in a bad mood when he is really a gentler spirit underneath it all.

Has an irresponsible streak due to being overwhelmed. Loses things constantly, a big excessive spender due to financial trauma. Always late, always in a rush. Forgetful of appointments and promises. Improves with age and peace.

He’s resilient, but cracking under the extreme stress of being at the mercy of others. War is constant, and the pressure to be perfect wears him down. He is not very suited for the leadership role he’s forced himself into nor the dire circumstances of the era. Prone to depressive Howl like tantrums of despair. Catastrophizes, thinks everything Gilbert does independently is their doom.

He represses everything until he explodes, usually in private. Can be very verbally abusive with the truth, especially with Gilbert. We owe some curing of Gilbert's more stubborn evils due to him.

Self-Perception:

A bit of a Martyr Complex but honestly, valid.

Pragmatic survivor who still tries to lead with values in his opinion. Deeply strategic; Reads the room and reshapes himself as needed. Survival comes before pride. Believes in suffering indignity for the greater good.

Lacks self awareness but thinks he is extremely self aware. Gilbert is in his bitchy teenage years so he is constantly being rocked by the kid's one liners. Contemplates insults for hours in his room and maybe sheds a tear or two when his feelings are hurt before deciding that Gilbert is a nasty feral brat who is wrong and doesn't know anything at all.

Righteous, chosen due to his inherent goodness to ‘save’ Gilbert from himself. Deluded about his own worth/valor, cannot face his faults. Tries to ignore his shame as he crosses his own boundaries and eats shit politically.

Conflict and Lies:

Can fight and defend himself but avoids it when he can. Bold and risky with his military endeavors but personally if it's just him thinks it's a bigger shame to lose a fight than run from it.

Considers Gilbert VERY dangerous to engage with due to his capacity for violence but also feels the need to assert himself physically. Sometimes finds himself feeling frightened in confrontations with the child especially when the power balance isn't in his favor, doesn't like how it makes it feel.

Works on a policy of minimizing damage/losses until he realizes he has to defend himself.

Not the most skilled in battle though he has good training from Netherlands, he is competent, but not talented like Gilbert is. In a 1:1 fight, he will be more defensive/trying to end the conflict/restrain his opponent to reason/bargain with them. Only violent when he must be and then he does not hesitate, does not take pleasure in it. Gilbert's delight in it makes him very upset.

While he is at first careful with his words, he grows more and more vocal and openly critical about the Empire and its dogs as time goes by and he's dissatisfied with his growth.

He tends to lie often and lie well. Strategic with lying and often believable as he is so careful with it, hard to catch him in a lie; avoids confrontation with partial truths or omissions. Tries to keep Gilbert out of the loop, wants him to be innocent, in his mind to stunt his growth and influence, but it’s an impossible endeavor. The more you hide from Gilbert, the more insistent he is in his search.

My era specific Gilbert Headcanon:

Dietrich coveted the calm, stabilized and rehabilitated verison of his brother Tolys and Feliks worked so painstakingly to accomplish. Also deeply coveted his economic vibrancy, land mass, fertile land, food sources, and access to the sea.

Did not understand the grand coordinated effort it took to get Gilbert to this level and how early into recovery he was still. He thinks it's a miracle and overestimates his ability to keep the progress going.

Goes broke to get his brother, this financial desperation plus the rigors of war forces him to begin to strip away foundational privileges that Ducal Prussia has enjoyed under the Polish Crown to loads of protests/resistance/etc.

Personal relationship not much better, wants Gilbert to be in a subordinate position under him when he promised him equality under marriage. Not at all a smooth transition, leaves them both sick and struggling, fighting so bad HRE has to get involved at times as well.

Gilbert immediately rebels and regresses into worrisome and difficult behavior. Defiant and disobedient, he is hyperactive and hard to control. Unpredictable in his behavior, behaves erratically and violently. Extremely troubled, depressed and feeling caged. Worried about Dietrich's intentions for him, worried about being consumed.

Worried about the situation, feeling vulnerable and unprotected. Wants to be involved but Dietrich keeps him out, here is where he really matures his skills to sneak around, lock pick etc.

Dietrich tries to keep him in his lessons, gives him a busy/packed schedule but Gilbert refuses to comply. He has this vision of what he wants Gilbert to be: a doll like young N.Italy that can entertain guests with intelligent conversation and music and make him look so competent and better at raising him into manhood than filthy feliks but nope.

Dietrich's View of Gilbert:

Loves Gilbert like one would a pet or a child, struggles to respect his personhood. Deeply enmeshed in their dynamic and bonded by trauma.

Sees him as a child/subordinate to be guided and suppressed; resents his desire for independence, thinks it ungrateful and childish of him. Dietrich has immense abandonment issues from his childhood and this is just a big trigger for him. Does not understand Gilbert as well as he thinks he does, this improves with time.

Feels threatened/hurt/rejected by Gilbert’s growing belligerent and defiance. Does not want him to grow. Ideally wants him to stay a boy of 15, easy to physically over-power, easy to control. Immature in his cognition and emotion. Easy to manipulate. 

When Gilbert is more trouble than he anticipated, he stops seeing him so much as an asset but as a liability. Cannot control him so escalates in his attempts to: it’s an explosive relationship, lots of fighting/hitting/whipping/etc.

He doesn’t want to beat Gilbert, but he doesn't know what else to do. Yet every punishment only makes Gilbert wilder, which spirals Dietrich deeper into despair, and feeds his self-loathing. Only stops when Gilbert begins to win more of the fights then everything becomes more psychological and emotionally abusive from Dietrich.

The physicality of the german bro family is extremely triggering for Gilbert and difficult for him to deal with, makes him more volatile and dangerous.

The Marriage:

Unwilling husband when he is told it is to be a marriage and not a conservatorship but ultimately settles as the benefits are sold to him. Dietrich sees the marriage as a sacred, stabilizing force: a political and emotional alliance meant to make them both stronger but with him as protector/dominant identity. 

Goes out of his way to prevent the marriage from feeling legitimate out of fear of Gilbert feeling equal to him and growing in power/age.  Will not consummate it, boots Gilbert out of the marriage bed/room. He refuses intimacy, both out of a desire for control and because he infantilizes Gilbert. Wants to keep him a child, malleable, easy to dominate and control. He is not attracted to Gilbert at all but is possessive of him. Evades kissing/touch but does not want him kissed or touched. Tolerates it more when Gilbert is older/more mature but is still standoffish. He is not faithful in marriage, prefers women and other transactional transient relationships, finds the burdens of relationships stressful, but big ol' ugly crush on Ned and France.

Gilbert is attracted to Dietrich at first : Tall dark drink of a young man with beautiful eyes and a beautiful body. Falls for the facade because he’s a dumb 15 year old. His desire for attention/affection/etc is quickly abused by Dietrich as a means of control before he realizes he is being led along.

Feeds Gilbert his own insecurities, constantly in his ear about how he is being perceived by others. Has a tendency to paint everything in a negative light to Gilbert to make him doubt himself, inherently jealous of his relationships with others.

Dietrich denies Gilbert affection/warmth/kindness when he is not listening to him. They ebb back and forth between Gilbert doing without and caving in and trying to be more cooperative because he's just a kid and he needs physical touch/affection he has never been without it before before giving up as he begins to understand he is being manipulated. Makes Gilbert hate the part of himself that yearns and needs even more than he did before.

Makes Gil more attention seeking/hyper-sexual/hedonistic in a toxic maladaptive way by accident by denying him affection. How Gilbert behaves as a Kingdom is a direct reaction to Dietrich’s deprivation.

Conflicted and confused in his role: feels a need to be an Authority but fails at establishing himself as one.

Takes Gilbert’s rebellion and later independence very personally, even when he knows it was inevitable. He equates obedience with love. If Gilbert won't behave, he believes he must not love nor respect him. Hurtful because he does not understand why he is so undeserving of it. He loves Gilbert  and yet does not respect him as an equal. He wants loyalty, obedience, and peace  but he’s miserable when he gets it through force.

Puts all the blame on Gilbert for their dynamic, will not accept any responsibility.

 His responses to Gilbert are rooted in fear: fear that both of their houses are vulnerable, that their union will collapse, that it’ll mean ruin for both of them. Does not believe in Gilbert’s ability to be a stable identity, thinks he is fated for subjugation and erasure by others.  Believes he is protecting, never admits to the harm he has done.

Later: Feels diminished, usurped; union meant to stabilize and empower but instead undermines him. Disillusions him, upset at his leaders. Throws a big messy depressive tantrum about it. Abandons Gilbert to all administrative tasks, rots in his bed and prepares for death that does not arrive.

Eventually they figure it out and have a strained but functional relationship but it's a very destructive one, Gilbert's main trauma is realizing how vulnerable he is to real life long hurt if he allows someone so intimately close to him.

[cod-dump]

idk if this is the right blog to send this to but I cannot get this concept out of my head.

the konni have a meme culture much like the shadows, and while Makarov was in prison they got kinda out of hand.

for a while it was funny to make badly edited PSA posters with makarov's face on them with captions like 'commander wants you to stop leaving shit on the counters' or 'commander wants you to stop making out in the munitions closet'

once Makarov gets out they go around taking them all down before he gets there but they forget a few. every so often Makarov enters a part of the building only to be met with a crudely edited picture of his face above a caption reminding his soldiers not to do some stupid shit

The memes definitely started with 'remember the commander is watching always' or something similar, a ploy to get everyone to keep behaving and working hard while Makarov was in prison. Then it took one jokester to put those words over Makarov's mugshot and place the picture in a bathroom stall for it all to spiral out of control.

There is a Makarov version of almost every popular reaction meme, all with various pictures of their beloved commander, some of these pictures having been secretly taken for unknown reasons, all for them to surface for this strange meme war. Who can outdo the last? Where is the worst (best) place to plaster Makarov's face?

When the commander was finally returning, they all scrambled to remove the posters. Hunting in the most obscure places in their compound for any overlooked memes. It was a race, done days before Makarov was breached from the gulag. And they thought they managed to get them all.

But Milena was keeping note of every meme and kept them in a folder with her other documents that were to help get Makarov back up to date. She didn't write down names, no that would spoil the fun far too quickly. She just kept dates, simple data, numbers, for Makarov. And she enjoyed watching his face become stone as he looked through every meme with great care.

[fairytalegonewronga03]

New BuckTommy Fic!

Bare Baking With Buckley

Rated E Read here! 🥧🥧🥧🥧

After his breakup with Tommy, Buck starts a baking vlog to cope with his feelings. When Tommy sees the videos, he realizes he still loves Buck and wants him back. The two reconnect and find their way back to each other.

Or the one where Buck starts a vlog baking half naked. Snippet below! 🥧🥧🥧🥧

As the layers of his elaborate cake baked, filling the kitchen with a mix of sweet aromas, Buck found himself typing "hobbies to get over an ex" into the search bar. His fingers hesitated for a moment, hovering over the keys, before he hit enter. The screen filled with an array of suggestions, each promising a path to healing and self-discovery.

Scrolling past recommendations for yoga, rock climbing, and learning a new language, Buck's attention was caught by a colorful blog post titled "Finding Your Voice: How Vlogging Saved My Broken Heart." Intrigued, he clicked on the link, his eyes scanning the page as the author described how putting their thoughts into videos had helped them process their grief and rediscover their passion for life.

As he read, Buck found himself imagining his own vlog. He could picture himself sharing his baking adventures, documenting each creation with carefully staged photos, videos and detailed recipes. Perhaps he could even branch out, exploring the history of different desserts or reviewing local bakeries. The possibilities seemed endless, and for the first time in weeks, Buck felt a spark of excitement ignite within him. The timer's shrill beep jolted Buck from his reverie. He quickly pulled on his oven mitts, and carefully extracted the cake layers from the oven. As he set them on the cooling rack, the sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate wafted through the air, mingling with the lingering scent of cinnamon. While the cakes cooled, Buck returned to his laptop, his mind buzzing with possibilities. He began jotting down ideas for his potential vlog, his handwriting becoming increasingly messy as his excitement grew.

As he brainstormed, a notification popped up on his screen – a new comment on his Instagram post from last week. It was a picture of him proudly holding up a tray of freshly baked croissants, his biceps flexing slightly as he smiled at the camera. The comment read: "Those croissants look delicious, but I'm more interested in the baker." Buck felt a blush creep up his neck. It wasn't the first time he'd received such comments. Friends and acquaintances often complimented his physique, a result of years of working out and staying active. Tommy loved his physique. Buck's mind wandered to Tommy, memories flooding back unbidden. He remembered how Tommy's eyes would light up whenever Buck emerged from the shower, droplets of water still clinging to his defined abs. Tommy would often trace the contours of Buck's biceps with his fingertips, marveling at their strength and definition. "How did I get so lucky?" he'd whisper, pressing a soft kiss to Buck's shoulder. Those compliments had always made Buck feel invincible, like he could conquer the world. 

Suddenly, an idea struck him. What if he combined his love for baking with his... physical assets? He pictured himself in the kitchen, wearing nothing but an apron around his neck and a pair of snug boxer briefs, whipping up delectable treats while explaining the intricacies of French pastry techniques. The more he thought about it, the more excited he became. It was outrageous, perhaps a little risqué, but it could be just the thing to set his vlog apart from the countless other baking channels out there. Plus, it might be a fun way to boost his confidence and rediscover his sense of playfulness after the breakup. If Tommy happened to see it and got jealous, well that was a bonus. Buck's fingers flew across the keyboard as he began to flesh out his concept. He'd focus on simple, approachable recipes that even novice bakers could tackle. But the real draw would be his charismatic personality and, well, his physique. He imagined the camera panning to his muscular hands as he kneaded bread dough, or zooming in on his arms pulled taught as he whisked a meringue to stiff peaks.

As he brainstormed potential names for his channel, a grin spread across his face. "The Half-Naked Baker"? No, too on the nose. "Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice"? Too cutesy. Then it hit him – the perfect blend of cheeky and charming: "Bare Baking with Buckley." Laughing to himself, Buck closed his laptop and turned back to his cooling cake layers.

🥧🥧🥧🥧

[k4is4rion]

In the Wake of Us - PROLOGUE

Parent!Bucky x Child!GN!Reader x Bob Reynolds

‼️⚠️TWs: Canon typical trauma+violence, brief allusions to SA, Brain washing, MCD (or so you think)⚠️‼️

HELLOOOOO MY NEW GAGGLE OF FOLLOWERS! YOU HAVE BEEN HEARD! Ask and you shall receive, I must give the people what they want. I’m still working out how I want this fic to go with how early or late in the timeline it starts, though I might mess around with the idea of flashbacks when they’re relevant. Bob’s not quite in this yet, but it felt necessary to provide a little somethin somethin beforehand. I hope I am up to Tumblr’s standards as a long time reader of fanfic, because I cranked this out over two days between prepping for finals and other activities (and wrote this entirely on my phone)

I am not very confident in this one because it is just providing basically a summary ofthe necessary information the best I can to set stuff up for the future, rest assure the normally paced story will be MUCH better 🙏

Feel free to comment suggestions or feedback (but please be nice to me I haven’t posted publicly since wattpad in 2019)

WC: 2540

MY LOVELY SUPPORTERS/TAG REQUESTS: @marcsb1tch @moonyseyelash @sarcazzzum-blog @iamtrasch @marvel-z0mbie @amaris444 @usuallyunlikelyfox @p4arll @tatsunesworld @amoebadue @marvelouslittleone @mynicknameisgasoline

The faint buzz of the lights was the only sound in the room as a moment of silence passed between the two who sat across from one another. The woman with the clipboard looked up at you overtop her glasses, which now sat on the lower bridge of her nose. She shifted her position slightly, still looking at you with the usual intensity— or rather the lack thereof. She had an unsettling air of neutrality about her that always seemed to irk you.

“Barnes, for the last time, if you do not participate fully and truthfully in this session, you will not be given release. I don’t want to delay you any further, but rules are rules. I have to make a final report.” She spoke, her pen sat between her index and middle fingers as she gripped the clipboard. You meet her eyes for the first time as you slouch back in your chair.

“It’s been.. what, five years and you’re still calling me that? Even though I’ve told you that calling me anything else is fine? Barnes doesn’t belong to me. You wound me, Doc.”

“It’s what you selected to be put on your official documents.” She adjusted her glasses before looking back up at you. “Consider it for old time’s sake, then. But still, Y/n, you’re avoiding the question. In your own words, describe a brief history of your life. Including everything you’ve begrudgingly discussed within our sessions. We’re doing this so we can send a transcript to your next specialist. Wouldn’t you prefer to give your side of the story instead of just your records?” Taking in her reasoning, you glance at the microphone recording this session. They were usually recorded for security purposes but this in particular was for just for documentation. With a deep breath, you reluctantly began explaining your very.. humble beginnings.

Your conception was begun roughly around the late 60s, although conceptualized much earlier with the apparent success of the winter soldier program. A series of roughly twenty children were to be conceived from hand-selected pairs of up-and-coming male and female super soldiers, all based on their first and only success; the original Winter Soldier. You were lucky enough to receive your genetic makeup from the blueprint; as well as a promising young woman. It was an unfortunate truth that your conception was not a happy story. Genetic engineering was rudimentary at the time and they did not care to what extent their “donors” suffered. Even with this reluctant knowledge, the intimidating man with the metal arm has cared deeply for you even in the circumstances you both found yourself in. He said you were a beautiful little test tube baby from what he remembers. Hydra quickly introduced you to one another in hopes of forming an early bond between soldiers, primarily in pairs with their best-suited parent. This was to not only establish partners that functioned perfectly together but to have something to hold over these people even when they previously had nothing. You called this guardian of yours “Soldat”, but much like you, he had no real name.

One by one, the adults failed the program or their children did. One by one there would be one less soldier. It was survival of the fittest, not only for being put against one another but for general survivability. Genetic modification was a large factor in many of the children’s deaths until few remained, then in your early childhood- only you. You were all that remained. In a desperate attempt to not have this all been for nothing, they put everything they could into you. Biomechanical enhancements to help your physical condition and functionality and a steady stream of serum to keep you healthy. For the first several years of your life, it was spent exclusively learning and training. Occasionally when the winter soldier was due for a mission, his break from cryostasis would be extended by higher-ups to train her. It was rough, of course, being a child training with such a violent force, but he cared whenever he could. For some reason, kneeling down before you to aid your wounds felt oddly familiar. Like he had done it routinely before to another little girl he cared deeply about. Hell, you even looked similar. But at the end of the day, his thoughts were irrelevant. His job was not to think, his job was to do as he was told. You learned this very quickly as it became clear that failure to understand this would result in something awful. You were a quick learner— you had to be if you were to continue surviving.

Once they decided you were adequate enough to be functional as a weapon, you began your cryogenic stints, only being woken up when it was time for another task. This wore heavily on your already fragile condition, even despite your inhuman strength. This also happens to cause another subsequent issue with you, your aging being incredibly messed up. Yes, you were conceived nearly 60 years ago, but you’ve only been conscious for a small part of that. In 2014 you were still practically a young teenager when the Winter Solider made his great escape. In his emotional distress, he made perhaps the most regretful decision of his life. He left you behind in the hands of the enemy, escaping without you. You only followed much later after being sent after him to end his life, but when you were met with the opportunity to, you simply couldn’t. You ran off, not back to Hydra, but going into hiding for the time being. You used what skills they taught you in case you needed to be self-sustainable until you could be recovered by backup, but it was hardly enough. It was incredibly challenging having to figure out how to get by on your own after being constantly monitored and treated by professionals. Not only that, but you were suffering from withdrawals due to Hydra forcing your dependency on the serum, as well as an injury from when you dug out your tracker from your bicep. You had a nasty infection by the time your “Soldat” found you, but he was joined by a strange new man who offered you help. His name was Steve Rodgers, that Captain America fellow you and the Winter Soldier were sent after a while ago. He was incredibly kind to you, even if you didn’t trust him. He was patient with not only you but him as well. The two seemed close- you hadn’t ever seen this side of him. This is also when you decided on your new name; Y/n Rebecca Barnes. Bucky chose your middle name, saying it was after someone special.

This is also when you learned a lot about the man you previously thought you knew. It turned out his name was James, James Buchanan Barnes. Even if his name was James, he seemed to prefer Bucky. He was also from New York City, where he grew up alongside Steve during the Great Depression. Over time you felt more and more distressed upon the realization that you didn’t know Bucky at all, let alone yourself. You realized early on that you were a reminder of a profound amount of trauma for a man who got mixed up with something he never deserved. You desperately tried making yourself better, especially for his sake, but there was only so much you could do. You still stuck to your habits, your purpose— to serve alongside the winter soldier.

You fought valiantly for your freedom, doing what you could to protect Bucky against these people who wished to get ahold of you both. Between half of the Avengers coming after you as well as the United States government, you were stretched pretty thin. Bucky swore that you both would get through this, that he would give you the life you deserved. He struggled to believe himself sometimes, but he knew he had to try. He would get better for you. He would atone for his sins by doing what he can for you. He had a life outside of Hydra before being captured, but you never got the chance. Without realizing it, you both became devoted to the safety of one another.

It would become apparent the world was against you both, as during a fight attempting to exit Siberia, you were wounded as you defended him from a harsh blow. Steve and Bucky were forced to decide between saving you or escaping, but you pleaded with them to follow through with the latter. They did, albeit begrudgingly, after Natasha promised Steve that she would look out for you until they could come back for you. Nat did this as best as she could and for as long as she could, but instead of going to the raft with the others, you were imprisoned in a top-secret base to be studied. You only got to experience freedom for a short time prior to this, so even if the conditions were considerably better than Hydra, it was still awful. You spent so long wondering if Bucky was alright, hoping your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing.

Nearly two years later, you were allowed visitation with Steve. It was a sweet reunion, almost immediately bringing your worry over Bucky to an end, but it ultimately was to discuss something very important. None other than your possible pardon. There was something brewing and all hands on deck were needed; including you. After all, you were a world-class assassin. Plus, Wakanda was developing a cure for Bucky whilst being a refugee there. It was nice to know he was somewhere safe even if he missed you as much as Steve said he did, based on what he’s heard from communicating with T’Challa and Shuri about his condition. With vague permission from the United States government, you headed out with Steve’s team to Wakanda. You and Bucky were going to be together again and fight together, just like it was for old time’s sake.

When you walked through the central part of Wakanda, your mind was elsewhere, not taking even a moment to admire your surroundings. You were only focused on getting back to him as you walked silently behind Steve. You weren’t used to being in foreign places without Bucky so you were completely on edge, even with Nat doing her best to make sure you didn’t freak out completely. Steve was the first one to greet Bucky as he was led by T’Chally. The two were happy to see one another again, Steve giving him a hug and exchanging fond remarks. Once they parted from the hug, Bucky saw you standing there. You had grown up slightly, a sight he wasn’t used to seeing. It made his heart ache as he took you into his arms as tightly as he could without harming you. It was hard not to allow the tears brimming your eyes to fall in front of your allies, but Bucky still held you close and buried his face into your hair as you instinctively nuzzled into his neck. Quiet exchanges of how much you missed one another were shared. As you both parted, he moved his hands to your shoulders. He looked at you with the most love you had ever seen before quietly remarking. “You’ve grown up. It���s good to see you, kid.” It was a very genuine sentiment he shared, as for the entirety of his time caring for you, your survival was not guaranteed. He never thought he’d be able to see the day when you look like you’ve gotten a chance to regroup yourself.

You spent what time you could together discussing what life had been like over the last two years for the both of you. He lived a peaceful life as a farmer, while you were under the care of the United States government. You both received very different treatments for your brainwashing, with his somewhat holistic treatment being more successful than your purely clinical and scientific one. Your brain was poked and prodded, while he received therapy. Bucky told you that once this was all over, the Wakandans said they could help you too. It gave you hope, more than you’ve had in a very long time. Soon after this conversation, it was time for what you came here for. Saving the world.

Loss was a thing you had become accustomed to a long time ago. But this felt incomparable. The fight was over, Thanos had won. He had successfully removed half of all life and with just the snap of his fingers, you watched the only person you’ve ever trusted turn to dust. He was gone and it felt like you had nothing left. With the chaos that followed this, you returned home with Steve. He did his best to console you but he was struggling with the loss of his best friend for the second time. Because of the aforementioned chaos of the situation, the government essentially went on lockdown while it attempted to regain control over the situation. This unfortunately meant your incarceration for the second time with no end in sight. You had no one left to fight for you. Steve certainly tried, as he knew that’s what Bucky would’ve wanted, but he could only do so much. He was spread thin after the blip and you fell through the cracks.

You would remain in prison for five years, with constant experimentation traded for frequent monitoring performed. It felt as though you were forgotten about and would never taste that sweet, sweet freedom again. You always thought you’d die alone and without any freedom, but after having it for such a brief moment in your life, it only seemed to twist the knife into the wound. You forced yourself to adjust and get used to it, just like you always had. You grew accustomed to the monotony of constant scheduling very quickly. It became a cycle of government-mandated therapy, frequent checkups, and doing what you could to use up the passage of time. You received permissions for good behavior that were enough to keep you somewhat sane for the most part. Steve visited you when he could, but one day he stopped coming. You learned why when you saw the news: the 50% that had been lost were returning.

Now here you were. About a month or two later, still in here. The only word you got was from the news on the television, making the theory you genuinely had been lost to time all the more real and fearful. That was until a week ago. You received mail for the first time in a long time— an official government document. Your case of a pardon was being reopened; alongside Bucky’s. That’s what brought you here. You were having your last mandatory session within your prison before you were being released, and boy were you thankful to get out of here.

“Well, aren’t we both glad I remembered to hit record? I believe we are just about out of time.” Doctor Miller spoke as she placed down her clipboard.

“What, no ‘same time next week’?”

“Not this time. Enjoy your long-awaited freedom, Y/n. It was good treating you.”

[maximoffwitch]

for the 1k celebration, could i please request from the smut list #126. "I'm sorry but, I don't think I can remain professional any longer." with natasha x fem(she/her) reader? 🥺

Keeping It Professional

pairing: natasha romanoff x reader

warnings: 18+ !!! heavy sexual content, swearing, strap-on use (r receiving), fingering, reader has a praise kink, oral, mature content overall!!

word count: 2.7k

a/n: wow okay so this is like the smuttiest thing i have ever written i honestly don't know what i'm doing so pls be kind 🫣 also pls ignore the fact that this request is over a year old and from a celebration i never finished 😭 and as a reminder: this blog is 18+ !! (because this comes up in the story CEO is Chief Executive Officer and CFO is Chief Financial Officer :))

“You wanted to see, Ms. Romanoff?” You entered the large corner office, gently closing the door behind you.

“Yes, (Y/N),” the redhead didn’t even look up at you, her eyes still glued to whatever important documents she was reviewing. Natasha Romanoff was one of the most powerful CEOs in the city, if not the world, starting her own consulting firm at just 23. By the time she was twenty-eight, Widow Enterprises was the most successful firm in the entire country, making Natasha the first female executive and the youngest to lead an industry.

Oh, and she was also your boss. Working as Natasha Romanoff’s personal assistant was often a thankless job. The long hours and tedious tasks left little room for a social life, and your boss’s stoic perfectionism did little to ease your days.

“Please sit.” Natasha motioned to the two chairs in front of her desk, finally looking up and setting down her pen.

You obliged, taking a seat across from her. 

“Do you know why I called you into my office, (Y/N)?” The redhead leaned back into her chair, as she carefully observed you.

You frowned, quickly racking your brain for any reason why your boss could want to talk to you so out of the blue and, apparently, in such a serious manner.

“Did you want to discuss the upcoming board meeting?” You subconsciously crossed your legs and adjusted your slacks, a nervous habit you picked up in said board meetings—being one of two women in a room of men is nerve-racking, to say the least. “I prepared all the notes and slide decks, but did you want me to forward them to you to review?”

Natasha had stopped double-checking your work about six months into your tenure there, as you had proven yourself more than competent. But you would understand her hesitancy, seeing as this meeting was with corporate executives who, if you had to guess, possessed the majority of the world’s wealth.

“No, no,” Natasha nonchalantly waved her hand, “I trust you have that all under control.”

You let out a small sigh of relief before knitting your brows. “I’m sorry, Ms. Romanoff, but then I can’t say I know why I am here.”

Natasha hummed as she stood up from the chair and made her way around the desk.

“I have a problem,” she revealed, as she sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her arms before lowering her voice, “with you.”

You nearly choked on your breath, your own anxiety choking you. 

Seeing you were at a loss for words, Natasha continued, “Now don’t get me wrong, your work speaks for itself. I have no issues with the way you do your job. In fact, you are the best personal assistant I have ever had.”

Your eyes widened at Natasha’s rare compliment. 

“Then what,” you cleared your throat in an attempt to rid the nerves from your voice, “what is the issue?”

“The issue is.” Natasha pushed herself off the desk and circled you as if you were her prey. When she hovered behind you, she bent down and whispered, “I don’t think I can remain professional any longer.”

You remained frozen, clenching your thighs together, as the feeling of your boss’s warm breath against your ear caused a tightness to coil in your lower abdomen.

Natasha smirked at your body’s reaction, before gently running her fingertips across your collarbone, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” She brushed a loose strand of hair from your neck, exposing more of your skin. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

You should yell that this was outrageously inappropriate, that you really shouldn’t be doing this in the middle of the work day, that this violated every single one of HR’s rules.

But you didn’t; you couldn’t. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you wanted her.

Craning your neck, you turned your head to meet Natasha’s salacious gaze and nodded.

Natasha raised her brow, amused. “Use your words, doll.”

“I want you,” you husked.

“Oh, I know you do.” She gave you a smug grin, firmly cupping your chin while running her thumb over your bottom lip. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you stare at me during meetings or the way you flaunt yourself around my office in those tight pant suits.

“Are you that desperate for attention, little one?”

“Only yours,” you panted, need bleeding through your voice.

“Good.” Natasha clicked her tongue, pleased by your answer, before guiding you to stand. “Now turn around.”

You obeyed and turned your back to her, gasping when Natasha gripped your hips and pushed you against the desk, her front pressed against you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” she growled as she pulled your hair, causing you to arch against her. 

“Every time I see you and your wide doe eyes, so eager to please, so eager to be fucked,” Natasha nipped your neck, and you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your mouth. At that moment, the redhead could not be more grateful for the soundproof walls of her office, “I want to bend you over my desk and give you what you want.”

"Yes, please,” you groaned, grinding your hips against her front, liquid arousal pooling in your stomach as you felt a bulge in Natasha’s slacks.

“Please what?” She kissed the corner of your mouth, as she nimbly worked her fingers to unbutton your pants, slowly sliding the waistband down.

“Fuck me,” you begged, “please.”

“So needy,” Natasha shoved her hand down the front of your black-laced panties, where she was instantly met with a desperate wetness.

“You are so wet, princess,” she teased, her fingers circling your clit slowly, “and I’ve barely even touched you.”

Before you could plead for more, Natasha plunged two digits into your heat, stifling your moan with a searing kiss.

Your tongues languidly danced together, fighting for dominance. Natasha quickly won that battle, simultaneously biting your bottom lip and curling her fingers deeper into your core.

“God, fuck,” you moaned as she pushed you down onto the desk so you were completely bent over at her will, your pants pooling at your ankles.

“Natasha is fine.” You could practically hear her smirk, but you were too far gone to say anything. All you could do was clench your walls around her fingers, silently asking for more.

Natasha added another finger as the heel of her palm rubbed your clit. You could feel yourself approaching the edge, and you didn’t know how much longer you could hold on.

“Be a good girl.” She leaned down and kissed the shell of your ear. “And come for me.”

“Natasha!” you cried out as you let the waves of pleasure crash over your body. Natasha kept her fingers in you, slowly pumping them in and out, as she gradually brought you down from your high.

As she finally slipped out of you, you whined at the loss. Natasha wrapped her arm around your chest, pulling you up and back against her.

“Taste.” She stuck her glistening fingers before your mouth, and you obeyed. Wrapping your lips around her digits, you stared directly into her eyes and swirled your tongue to taste your own pleasure.

Natasha’s eyes darkened at the action as you released her fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“You’re such an obedient assistant, aren’t you?” Natasha hummed, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “I bet you’d do anything I asked, hm?”

“Yes,” you breathed, your shame long gone, as you submitted yourself completely to the other woman.

“Good.” She kissed the corner of your mouth before taking your hand in hers. “Now, come suck my strap.”

You stepped out of your pants, goosebumps rising up your legs as you were left only in your underwear and half-buttoned silk blouse. 

As Natasha sat down in her chair, she pulled her own slacks down her thighs, revealing a decently sized strap-on, and your mouth watered at the sight. You lustfully eyed Natasha, who scooted her hips to the edge of the seat.

“Get on your knees for me, pretty girl,” the redhead directed as she worked to unbutton her shirt.

You sank to your knees in between Natasha’s legs, ignoring the harsh vinyl floor beneath you. Softly rubbing your hands up her thighs, you stared up at her and took the tip of the plastic cock in your mouth.

Natasha watched you with an intense gaze, her eyes unable to leave the sight of her strap-on slowly disappearing deep into your throat. As you bobbed your head up and down, coating the dildo with spit, Natasha groaned, throwing her head back. 

“You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” She took a fistful of your hair in her hand, controlling your pace. “I bet your pussy is just aching to be filled by my strap.”

You wantonly moaned and increased the pace of your movements, causing Natasha to hiss, as the strap-on rubbed against her clit.

Natasha tightened her grasp on your hair and tugged at your scalp, sending a shock of pleasure through your body at the brief moment of pain.

“Are you gonna let me fuck your mouth, princess?” She looked down at you, waiting for your eyes to meet hers. Nodding slightly, you widened your mouth and relaxed your throat.

“Good girl,” Natasha cooed, as she brought her other hand to gently caress your cheek before firmly taking hold of the back of your head.

Natasha bucked her hips, hungrily chasing her own release. The squelching sound of the dildo plunging into your throat echoed around the office, as your eyes began to water. 

“So good,” Natasha threw her head back, still rutting into your mouth. “So close.”

Feeling herself right at the peak, she thrust her hips up and pushed your head down, causing you to choke and lose your breath momentarily.

“Fuck!” she cried, her body stilling as her orgasm washed over her. Gasping, you released the strap from your mouth. You looked up at Natasha, who was also catching her breath. 

“Come here.” Natasha softly hooked her finger under you chin. You stood from your kneeling position and moved in between her legs, leaning forward to meet her awaiting lips. 

This time, Natasha kissed you with less urgency and more passion, as if she had all the time in the world.

“You did so well, milaya,” she cooed, the praise along with the Russian term causing your walls to clench around nothing. Natasha grinned, as she saw your thighs involuntarily clench together. “You want to ride me?”

Though she posed it as a question, you could tell there was little room for debate. 

Nodding, you bit your lip and shrugged your shirt off your shoulders. You kept eye contact with Natasha as you slowly shimmied out of your ruined underwear.

The redhead followed your every move with blatant desire, gulping when she watched a string of wetness cling to the fabric as it fell down your legs.

Bracing yourself on the back of the chair, you straddled Natasha’s lap, hovering over the dildo.

“You are so perfect.” She kissed your exposed cleavage, biting your skin before soothing it with her tongue. “So perfect and so ready to be fucked.”

“Yes, Natasha,” you rested your forehead against hers as she teased your entrance with the strap-on, “please fuck me, take me, make me yours.”

“You’re mine,” Natasha growled, pulling your bottom lip between her teeth as she pushed the tip into your heat.

“Yours,” you sank down, the toy stretching your walls perfectly, and the two of you moaned in unison. Neither of you moved, allowing you to adjust to the size.

Slowly, you started to move, pulling another cacophony of sounds from the woman beneath you.

“Faster, (Y/N),” Natasha gritted through her teeth as she gripped your hips. “Ride my cock.”

You followed her commands and bounced up and down on her strap. Natasha eagerly bucked her hips up, matching your rhythm.

“Fuck, Nat,” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, as Natasha reached around you to unclasp your bra, allowing your breasts to bounce freely. 

“That’s right.” She pinched your nipples between her fingers, causing you to let out to a guttural moan. “You’re such a good girl, riding me like the slut you are.”

“Nat,” you pleaded, feeling the coil tightening in your abdomen. 

“Are you close, princess?” 

You nodded with a whimper, grinding your hips down onto Natasha’s.

“Chase your pleasure,” she whispered, as she brought your forehead to meet hers.

You stared deeply into her eyes as you relentlessly rode the toy. 

“I’m gonna come, Natasha,” you gasped, your breath hot against her lips.

“Not yet, darling,” she commanded, causing you to pout. Natasha slipped her hand between your bodies, her fingers ghosting over your clit. “I want us to come together.”

You let out a whine, your pace even more frantic than before, as Natasha began to rub tight circles against your bud.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” she grunted, her thrusts becoming sloppy. Pinching your clit, Natasha surged forward to kiss you, before mumbling against your lips, “Come with me, my good girl.”

You both cried out, pleasure overtaking your bodies at the same time. Melting into her embrace, you rested your head against her shoulder. The two of you basked in the post-coital silence, the toy still buried deep inside of you.

Remembering where you were, you lifted your head and tenderly smoothed Natasha’s disheveled hair. 

“How was that?” You gave her an amused smirk.

“Perfect.” She grinned blissfully. “You were absolutely perfect.”

“Better than you imagined?"

“So much better, my love.” Natasha gently kissed you, her way of thanking you for fulfilling her fantasy. Though she knew you got just as much pleasure out of it as she did.

“Good,” you separated, pecking her lips once more before demounting from her lap. 

“Where are you going?” she whined, removing the harness and tossing it aside as she watched you gather your clothes.

“James’s soccer practice is ending in twenty minutes, and I told him I would pick him up.” You fastened the buttons on your blouse before walking around the desk to where your pants were.

“Don’t we have a sitter for that?” Natasha joked, though you could tell she was still disappointed by your departure.

“We do.” You used the desk to balance yourself, as you slipped on your heels. “But I gave Kate the day off because I promised James I’d pick him up.”

“Fine,” Natasha stood up, pulling her own pants back up and buttoning up her shirt as she walked over to wrap her arms around your waist, “but I had other plans for us.”

You rolled your eyes fondly, straightening out her collar. “I was serious earlier about sending that slide deck over to you to review, if you want.”

“And I was also being serious earlier,” Natasha shot you a knowing wink, “I trust you have that all under control.”

“Good, because I do,” you smirked confidently.

“Best. CFO. Ever.” She emphasized each word with a kiss.

You preened at the praise, a slight blush tainting your cheeks. “Well, now I have to go be the best mom ever. Seriously, love, I have to go.”

“Alright,” Natasha relented, letting her hands fall from your hips.

“Don’t worry, we’ll finish what we started later,” you whispered, pecking the corner of her lips, as you slipped something in Natasha’s breast pocket. “I’ll see you at home, love.”

“Counting on it.”

You lightly patted her chest and winked, before making your way out of the office, making sure to close the door behind you.

After you left, Natasha cleaned up, ridding any evidence of your activities and reorganizing her desk. As she prepares to resume her work, powering on her desktop, Natasha feels something in her breast pocket.

Reaching into her pocket to retrieve whatever you put there earlier, she grinned at what she pulled out.

“Little minx,” Natasha chuckled, fiddling with your lacy black thong in her hand before tucking it back in her pocket.

Best. Wife. Ever.

[spidey-ramblings]

I don’t write as much as I used to, but I want to dabble in it here and there again. I’ve been scrolling the yandere dc tags here lately and I’ve been inspired to make my own contributions to it.

I know the tag has been filled with mostly neglected reader fics, but hear me out on this one. I’ve already shared my rambles with another author who posts under the yandere batfam tags, and to keep myself from spamming her inbox, Imma start posting on my own blog.

So, we’ve seen plenty of neglected reader stories where the reader either moves on from their family to lead a normal life, becomes famous, becomes a villain, or becomes a hero. One of my versions of neglected reader would fall under the hero category. Spiderman/girl/sona reader is pretty popular, but what if the reader became Captain America instead?

This drabble will be about a male reader, but I also do write female and gn readers!

Like, reader has always been this sickly child whose mother had to surrender custody to Bruce after the medical bills became too much. Because he was always sick or in some sort of pain, Bruce realizes that his son won’t be able to follow in his footsteps and pretty much shoves the responsibility of reader’s care onto Alfred. For much of his childhood, reader just understood that his father wasn’t a very emotional man and hadn’t been expecting to even be a father in the first place. But, when he turns seven and Dick Grayson, who is freshly traumatized, enters the picture, reader has to watch as the man who wouldn’t spare him a single glance comforts his new brother and promises to give him justice. Naturally this breaks the reader’s heart, but he’s too nice to ever confront Bruce about it, especially since Dick was grieving and did need the comfort. Reader will try to bond with Dick, and at first Dick is receptive. But, that doesn’t last long as he soon becomes Robin and has other responsibilities to tend to.

Then, a redheaded girl named Barbara Gordon enters the picture. Determined to get someone’s attention, reader tries to get to know Barbara, only to get rushed responses or a “Sorry! I’m kinda busy at the moment.” Knowing this pattern, reader quickly gives up and stops trying with his family.

Because this reader would be a Captain America variant, he too would have a strong sense of justice and be too stubborn to back down from a bully/delinquent, even if he’s now getting his shit rocked. Because of this, his best friend (who can be Bucky if y’all want the friend to be) often jumps in to save the reader, teasing him afterwards for his stubbornness. When reader discovers what his family does at night, he tries to include himself, only to be shot down by Bruce and reminded of his condition.

When they both get older, Dick becomes more distant now that he’s Nightwing, Barbara isn’t much better either, and his relationship with Bruce has been cremated. Reader is now eighteen, and the Army has issued a mandatory draft. (I might make a modern version of this with Reader becoming Neo Captain America, but for now this will be a period fic.) Wanting to leave the manor and the Wayne name altogether, reader tries to enlist, but is turned down because of all the ailments he suffered in the past and because he’s literally scrawny. But, reader doesn’t give up and travels to nearby cities forging his documents in the hopes that someone will take him. After being rejected five times, Reader is about to give up. But, following the movie theater incident, reader’s friend decides to take reader out to see all the gadgets that were on display at an exposition about the Wonders of the Future, and to just air out and lift his spirits.

It’s there that Reader comes across another recruitment site and decides to try his luck again, this time claiming that he’s from Blüdhaven. After nearly being rejected yet again, reader meets Dr. Erskine who gives the reader a chance to prove himself. The reader eagerly accepts and is sent off to basic training the next day.

Training is tough and for most of it, reader falls behind and his bullies by his squadmates. Shrimp, scrawny, and Pipsqueak become his main nicknames. It’s only when reader throws his body, without hesitation, over what everyone will soon learn is an empty grenade shell, does he finally earn the respect he deserves. When everyone ducked for cover, reader chose to risk death to protect everyone.

Dr. Erskine and reader have their celebration the night before reader’s procedure, and then the next day the procedure happens. Like with Steve, the procedure works and the once scrawny, sickly reader becomes a superhuman with the build of a Greek God. (I’m going to rush over this next bit.) There’s a mole amongst the spectators, Dr. Erskine gets shot and dies, reader chases the mole down, and the mole dies, then for the next few months reader is essentially a show pony to sell bonds until one day he snaps out of it and breaks into a Hydra camp and saves nearly four hundred men.

Once the news reaches Gotham, many begin to realize that their Captain America, who might’ve been unmasked in one of the photos, looks an awful lot like that sickly son of Bruce’s. The Batfamily, who at this point are only Bruce, Dick, Barbra, Jason, and Alfred (but I could change some details up and have the full family be involved) , finds out about this…and they are crushed. Like in your typical neglected fics, they (except for Jason because he arrives after the reader left) are immediately filled with not only guilt, but panic because their once forgotten child/brother was now fighting in a dangerous war. Not to mention they know he went under some sort of procedure, what if he has trauma from the pain? The reader doesn’t, but this is what the Batfam thinks. They want to bring him home, but he’s unreachable. Their guilt is only amplified when they realize that reader is now a better hero than them, a better symbol of justice. They spend the next few months idolizing him, telling Jason every good thing they could think of (made up because they always pushed reader aside and thus doesn’t know shit) the reader. So, naturally their distraught when news of the aircraft reader had been piloting had crashed onto an iceberg in Baffin Bay. While everyone gives up on finding him, the Batfamily uses their money and resources to keep looking. But, for the fun of it, let’s just say they never find the reader and are forced to live with the reality that they (except for Jason) had neglected the reader all the way up to his “grave” and it tears them up.

Then, I can only imagine the drama that unfolds when seventy years later, reader is unthawed. The war has ended, everyone he knows is either old or long dead, and this world is no longer his…this world is louder, and there are screens everywhere. What do you mean he’s been asleep for seventy years?!

…

But, if I were to do a modern day fic. The reader would instead become Neo Captain America. Steve Rogers would still be alive and takes the reader in as his ward. Maybe, he even becomes a platonic yandere for the reader. He feels that the Batfam doesn’t deserve the reader and is willing to do whatever it takes to keep them away. At first he might feel guilty for having these violent thoughts, this twisted obsession, but then he sees his new son smile, hears his son call him dad, and suddenly he no longer feels guilty. The Batfamily had their chance and blew it.

Sorry not sorry, but the reader is Steve’s baby now.

[revelboo]

Rambles/ clarification of my nonsense

• I just wanted to go ahead and clarify something before you guys make the connection between the TF One Megatron fic and the latest Thundercracker bit and start asking. First off, I have a fated mate series I write. I do love that trope, but I have an issue with how it’s handled sometimes so I will gently poke fun at it from time to time.

• I don’t like the insta-love eyes meeting across a room and falling hopelessly in love that some novels incorporate. I prefer love/affection to be earned over time through actions. Insta-love always comes across to me as losing a piece of yourself to another person, losing free will. Instant attraction or lust? I can work with that, tie it to a sense of belonging that keeps dragging you into that person’s gravity whether you want to be there or not. Just because it’s fated doesn’t mean it’s perfect or easy. I want the characters to clash, to fight that sense of need and maybe even resent that bond at first. Slowly building up trust and getting to know each other.

• If I write more TF One characters, I’ll probably use fated mates in that universe because I’m a gremlin and I like writing conflict. I wouldn’t mind writing that version of Starscream, B127, or Optimus Prime at some point.

• This blog started as a venting space. I needed to work on manuscripts, but I was so burnt out and my usual tactic of just swapping to a different project wasn’t working. I’d open the documents and just stare at the screen in dread. So, I wrote a silly little Starscream snippet, because I used to write fanfiction on FFN years ago under a different handle. And I missed writing silly, self indulgent nonsense that didn’t have to be perfect. The quick bullet point snippets I do are actually how I quickly get scenes down to expand later.

• I only meant to make a few characters and scenarios and then go back and start fleshing them out like a properly formatted story. Then you guys started asking questions, asking about different characters. So I just kept going, because I honestly missed writing for fun, for myself. Nothing serious, just telling a story to amuse myself. I needed an outlet for the stress and this is it.

• So, thank you guys so much. I’ll keep these going as long as folks want to read them, because I really did miss the Transformers community. There’s a sense that when you swap to professionally writing, you’re not supposed to keep doing the fanfiction stuff. You’re supposed to grow up and just write novels, nothing else. And that’s why I stopped ten years ago, but this makes me happy. I can do both and it’s not like I follow normal writing rules anyway. I’ve been told my writing can be too visceral, too much like a stream of consciousness instead of a literary work. That used to bother me, but that ship’s not only sailed, it caught on fire and sank with no survivors. Never been great at following rules anyway.

• And maybe someone else needs to hear that. You don’t have to stop what you enjoy because it’s ’unprofessional.’ Keep it separate, but keep doing it if it makes you happy. It shouldn’t be a trade off.

[quirkwizard]

Mutant Mayhem: A Critique on the Mutant Sub-Arc

Normally, I start this off with some kind of intro to establish what I'm talking about, but I'm not going to lie: I think this might be the worst thing to come out of the main storyline. This may be a surprise to long-time followers of the blog. My dislike of Stars and Stripes and her arc has been well documented, with me calling it the worst part of MHA. As much as I dislike a lot of elements of the Stars and Stripes Arc, I can at least understand what Hori was going for, and it's pretty easy to ignore in the grand scheme of things. With this? I can't understand this.

So I want to put two disclaimers here. First off, I am not an expert on politics, sociology, or anything related to that in any way. I do not know how the events in the manga reflect real world issues, both in Japan specifically and the world at large. What I am is a writer. I am someone who analyzes stories for fun. This is going to be a critique of how the story handles the plot purely from a writing perspective. It will not be a critique of whether it is realistic or comparable to real world events. I'm sure there are other people far more equipped to handle talking about this.

Second off, for the sake of this, I'm ignoring a lot of the character work with Spinner. I actually think that's some strong stuff here. It just happens to be stuck in the middle of an arc that I don't feel uses that well. I know that isn't nearly as important as the first disclaimer, but I like it a lot and I want to give this arc flowers where I can. So, without further ado, let us get into this.

The Major Players

To be frank, Shoji and Koda feel out of place here. Do not get me wrong. I like them both, Shoji especially, but it does not feel like either of them has any place leading an arc. He's such a background character, even among the ranks of 1-A. And Koda is even worse in terms of relevance. Shoji and Koda don't have any real arcs of their own or connections to Spinner to make this feel warranted, let alone satisfying. At least, not that'd tie them into this part of the story. Koda is a kid who was shy that wanted to find his voice and gain more confidence. Shoji, the leading man of this whole arc has... nothing. He was just a quiet, minimalist who helped out where he could.

On the other end of things, there is Spinner. For the whole of this arc, Spinner is reduced a brainly functional monster. Yeah, that's great for his character, but it hurts the rest of the arc and the point it is trying to make. Because the guy who is supposed to be leading this part of the story has been reduced to a drooling moron who can barely string a sentence together. When he does talk, all he can say is that he doesn't even care what his own allies are doing. It makes it come across that Spinner doesn't have any real place in his own arc. It ends up hurting the manga and the story it is trying to tell by actively robbing the key player of his agency.

And then we have the spider guy. I'm not even going to bother remembering his name. We don't know anything about him or why he's doing this. He's only really here to spout out exposition about the discrimination of the Mutants and what they have gone through. So do we get someone who is passionate about fighting for this cause? No, not really. He makes it clear to the audience that this is not his main goal. All he is there to do to keep the revolution going for the sake of All For One. He's not the kind of figurehead that this arc needs. Someone who can act as the passionate mouthpiece to really push what the Mutants want and need. He just ends up being some other stooge that quickly gets defeated without much thought.

So right off the bat, it doesn't feel like these characters have any strong ties or arcs to work with here. It feels like we're dealing with the leftovers. Like all the other characters were busy somewhere else, but needed something Spinner for his story and to get Kurogiri. Shoji and Koda are the only ones left with any kind of panel time, and now he had to throw some stuff together about how there was all this prejudice against Mutants. Because that is all you have to tie them all them together. Okay, sure, maybe the characters aren't really that good for this kind of story line. But maybe the actual writing and build up to make this part of the story will make this arc feel satisfying, right?

The Setup?

Right off the bat, I don't think that this plot line is that well established. Looking back at the series, what examples do we have of Mutant discrimination within the main manga? Maybe a few small moments. A comment about how big the doors are at UA as opposed to other places. Which can imply that other buildings aren't as accommodating for those, but it's never really explored that much beyond that one comment. Gang Orca is a Mutant and is said to be one of the most villainous-looking heroes. Yet I feel like that's a pretty forgettable fact about how minor of a character he is and how aggressive he tends to act around people. If anything, that feels like a bigger contributor to why people see him as a villain. 

A few insults based on how a character looks. Namely, Shoto to the dog Chief of Police, Dabi to Spinner during the car chase to get Overhaul, and Pony to Shoji during the Joint Training Arc. However, none of these are given real focus. They are all either played off like any other insult or even a joke, in the case of Dabi and Spinner. Do you see what I'm getting at? For all the focus it gets as an end-game issue, there really isn't a lot of focus put on it with the story or characters. It's all a bunch of smaller moments. Smaller moments that are few and far between and aren't given any kind of real gravity for when they do happen. There isn't anything that stands out to me that makes me think that Mutants are facing any kind of discrimination in the modern day.

And before any of you say anything, yes, there are more notable examples of problems like this in the Vigilantes spin-off. The most obvious one is Kirihito Kamachi. He has the body of a giant praying mantis. He has difficulty living and interacting with others because of how monstrous he is, such as finding a place that can accommodate him. That is a great exmaple... that is not in the main manga. As good as Vigilantes is, it's still ultimately supplementary material. To me, you shouldn't have to rely on supplementary material to support your main story. Because most people aren't going to be reading it. At least, not many people do from what I have seen. Within the main manga, there are only two major examples I can think of. 

The first is the Creature Rejection Clan. A group of people solely dedicated to the exclusion of Mutants on the basis of blood purity. Which certainly sounds bad. The story says they used to be a thing back when the first Quirks came about. Yet they are barely even an organization in the modern times. They are treated instead as a long-dead relic, who are so weak and fractured as to be a joke. The second is the attack on the giant fox woman, which has so many extraneous factors involved that I hesitate to count it. Such as the fact it was done by a bunch of people without any kind of real racial motivation behind it and it was a random attack by scared people during a total societal collapse. So while it was part of the world, it seemed more in the background. Something that happened before with some lingering wounds. A problem with the world that should be dealt with, but not something that is that prevalent.

The Mutant's Madness

We then cut to the current storyline and... we have a horde of thousands upon thousands of Mutants all marching on the hospital with Kurogiri inside of it. All of these Mutants were so disgruntled about the world as is, that they formed a mob of this size. We're told that Spinner was regularly attacked and sprayed with bug spray. We get mentions of these massive hate crimes against Mutants that were never mentioned before. We then get flashbacks to Shoji's history. About how he was beaten and heavily scarred by people that attacked him as child. This is something that happened whenever he interacted with any other people. Hori: Where on Earth did any of this come from?

I want you to think about all the examples I picked out. I did not intentionally cherry-pick those. I tried my best to find all the notable examples of this before the arc. Would any of you assume that would be how Mutants were treated in the setting? I certainly wouldn't. I don't think I'd ever reach the conclusion that the story did. That, not even ten years ago, there were mass killings and public attacks on small children. This took such a drastic turn that I get whiplash just thinking about it. Was this ever implied or set up before? I feel like this kind of violence would have been shown or mentioned until now, but no. This is the first time we've heard about it on this scale.

And introducing a problem this big this late into the story, in the very arc it is relevant in, is sloppy writing to say the least. Realistically, this should be something that affects a large portion of the world and even members of our cast. You would think that if stuff like that was happening, we'd see way more examples of this in the story. Characters like Tokoyami, Sero, Tsuyu, and Mina. All of which could have been used to explore this more, but they have never been mentioned. Could you imagine if we only got passing mentions of what was going on with Himiko? And, outside of her obsession with blood, we never fully understood why she was that way. Only to find out there are thousands of other kids that go through exactly what she did and no one ever talked about it?

And why is that? Why is it never seen or mentioned? Hori tells us it's because the cities aren't as bad. It's out in the country where it's really bad. What?! What kind of explanation is that? Let's ignore the fact that it doesn't make any sense. If you have that kind of acceptable violence even out in the sticks, there would have to be some kind of sign of it in the major cities. The fact of the matter is that this is such a lazy excuse. Geez, Hori, if that was the case, maybe you should have shown us something outside the city then. Maybe then you could have built up this plot point more if you wanted it to be such a major focus of the arc. Why even go to this level of extreme with it? Especially since this level of violence the Mutants undergo suffocates the message so much.

The Mangled Message

My issue with the violence is that it is crippling the narrative the story wants to go for. Having it be this level of violence justifies the Mutants in their revolt. Shoji's whole point is not letting your hatred win and how you need to rise above what people think of you. A good sentiment on paper. If you want to talk about the kind of harm extremists can do to a message and progress as a whole, that is totally fine. Or maybe you could go with how people can be caught up in something that doesn't have their real interests at heart. There are a lot of ways you could go about this kind of message.

But that kind of talk doesn't exactly fly when your lives and wellbeing are in active danger. The Mutants aren't getting side-eyed by some old dude on a porch. They're running from hate mobs out for blood. Hate mobs are so wild and vindictive they will openly attack children on sight with zero moral compunctions about them. Which, yes, is the extreme, but the rest of what we learn doesn't make it seem like it's that far of an extreme. This kind of writing not only makes it jarring with what we have been shown, but it puts the Mutants as a whole in such a terrible position in this world. I can't exactly blame them for fighting back, even if it's aimed in the wrong direction.

When I'm writing this, I keep thinking back to that one line from Shoji. "Spinner, you're about to put us back thirty years." I get what the story is trying to say with that, but it feels so wrong here. Sure Shoji, you can try and be the model citizen that wants to bridge the gap between people. Not stooping to their level and all that. Yet trying to moralize people who feel actively threatened by the world at large doesn't come across the way you think it does. It comes across as tone-deaf and preachy even in the best light. And that's not the kind of thing you want to say about the guy who is supposed to be in the right. It's this weird moralizing that makes this sub-arc so hard to read and enjoy.

What makes it worse is that the crowd feels like such a mindless mob. One that only stopped because they realized they were attacking a hospital. What on Earth did you think you were doing here? Volunteer work? I get that the point is that Shoji's speech and the heroics of everyday people is what stopped them, but come on. It feels like Hori needed to put them in a much worse position morally to make the violence stop. That doesn't really acknowledge the problems that they are going through in a reasonable way. Why not make them stop because they feel like their leader is nothing more than a violent thug? Or the revelation that they are fighting for just to be used by All For One? Not because he cares about them, but because he just wants to build chaos?

This entire issue just feels so bizarre and poorly thought out on so many fronts. It makes me wonder why we're even getting this kind of arc in the first place. On the surface, it fits in with the other villains. Which I get is the point of the villains. They are people with genuine grievances towards society, but go too far with what they will do to get what they want. But at least it felt like the villains were exceptional extremes of the system who were hurting more than they helped. Their issues were a product of the system, but were far more personal. This seems like it's something far more widespread. Something so ingrained in the world that goes beyond any one person. So it feels at odds with how the rest of the villains and issues are set up.

And to be clear: I'm not saying this because I don't think MHA should cover these topics. In a series talking about the issues of society and how people need to work together to make things better, bigotry in any fashion could be something you could easily cover. If anything, I think that MHA Is uniquely suited to talk about this. It's certainly more appropriate to cover it here than other series that try to use its supernatural elements to talk about bigotry. And yes, that includes the X-Men. But to talk about these issues, you need to lay the groundwork. You need to tackle it with some tact. You need to know what you are doing. And Hori clearly doesn't know what he's doing here.

The Rewrite

Now, how would I fix this? This is kind of an awkward position for me to be in. Because I don't think you can fix this arc in and of itself. It's built around a foundation that is shaky at best. I honestly think you'd need a whole other mini-arc just to set this issue up and establish this as an issue for Shoji. At very least, you'd have to put a lot more of a focus on Spinner as a real character. So I think that the best answer is to just rewrite it from scratch.

For starters, you change the people that are attacking the hospital. The horde is not all Mutants. They are instead all followers of the League itself. They are just like Spinner was back when he was following the image of Stain. They are people who think they understand what the League is fighting for or are merely fighting back for their own personal vendettas. They are all people who felt small and hurt. It is effectively an army of Spinners. At least, as he was early on in the manga. And these aren't anywhere near as bad as they are in canon. It can be for whatever ill-thought-out reason there is. Spinner is still leading the charge, still full of Quirks. And while his change in form would tie into his other story, I'm going to try and make it relevant to the rest of the arc.

And you may be wondering how this ties back to Shoji? It doesn't. Again, I like Shoji, but he does not need to play such as a major part of the final arc focused on him. So I suggest we get another student to replace him. Specifically, Iida. Why put Iida here? To be perfectly frank, I think Iida was wasted in this arc. He doesn't have any real ending for the arc we've seen and doesn't add much to the part of the story he is in. All he's used for is a glorified taxi for Shoto to get to his arc. I do have an idea about him and why I am putting him here, but I'd be lying if I said my personal feelings on Iida this arc aren't part of my decisions.

To start things off, I would make it clear that this is one of the last functional hospitals in the country. This place is integral to treating the most seriously injured and sick. Trying to move any of the patients would likely kill them, including Kurogiri. The heroes wouldn't want to use it as a battleground, but feel forced to because such a valuable target is there with Kurogiri. So the heroes organize a force to help defend the hospital, for which Iida volunteers. And when asked about it, Iida says he wants to protect it because it's about his brother. Both that is what Tensei would do and all he can think about is his brother laying in that same hospital.

And this is where their dynamic would come in. Spinner and Iida are comparable in how they both looked up to a person in their life and how much that warped their perspective. After encountering Stain, both of them changed. Iida strived more to emulate and honor his brother rather than idolize him. He wanted to be the one to build up the rest of his classmates and become a proper hero that can save people. Spinner went from being a fanboy to an idol himself, but a false one. He got the power he wanted, but an empty in the process, with everyone else ascribing things to his actions rather than having any real will of his own.

I'm doing this because, in a series all about inherited wills and legacy, I think that you could do something focusing on inheriting the wrong ideas from someone. That is brought up a few times throughout the series, but I think that some part of the finale could focus on it. It's how your actions have meaning and those actions can spread out to people who look up to you and trust you. These are the roles that Iida and Spinner fulfill. It ties back to what the Mutant Sub-Arc was trying to bring up about how this group of people is being used and radicalized for All For One's cause and not their own, but in a way that doesn't tie it to all the baggage of discrimination and bigotry. 

Iida can talk about how the crowd is misguided. That the League and All For One aren't on their side. Nobody in the crowd cares though. They rather shout about their grievances. About why they are fighting this war in the first place. They all look up to Stain and Spinner as their revolutionaries. They all turned to Spinner looking for his wise words. This is the part where he says he doesn't care. He can give a similar speech as he did in canon, but it can be more to emphasize his own past as opposed to Iida. How Iida is where he is, because he was born lucky with a wealthy family and a strong Quirk.  I think that this would be a lot more personal to Spinner. His whole perspective and life has changed so much that Stain, the man that inspired him, is barely even an afterthought. 

This would be encouraged by a man on a roof seeing it all: Trumpet. Now, I am replacing the spider guy with Trumpet for a few reasons. One is that he's already an established character, and he already has ties to Spinner. Second is that his power of "Incite" could do a lot to explain how the crowd is fighting so well. Finally, I think that it could reflect how All For One is using these people. They aren't here to lead a revolution, but to cause chaos. And I think that works better with a figure like Trumpet. The second a new regime seems to be rolling in, he immediately switches sides to working with All For One. He isn't as staunch MLA follower as people thought he was and merely attached himself to it because it was a means of power. It feels more fitting for someone like him to talk about how he doesn't really believe in this kind of stuff than someone who should be affected by the issue they are fighting for.

So the battle rages on between the two groups. You could also throw in some of the students to help fight with Iida. To me, you could put any of the other students here if you want. Maybe you could have some moment for Jiro or Koda here. They'd be able to use the power of their Quirks to help drown out Trumpet and all of his rhetoric. Maybe you could have people like Sero and Ojiro work as the counterpoint. They don't have great Quirks, but they were still able to make it into the Heroics Course in spite of that fact. Their roles don't matter as much to me as the main conflict between Spinner and Iida. Iida tries to fight back as hard as he can, but, ironically, Spinner's ability to jump and climb between walls makes it hard for Iida to attack him.

That is when the crowd starts closing. The doctors are doing their stand to make sure no one can get in and hurt the patients. This makes the crowd hesitate some. At that moment, Iida gets an order. To stop the crowd no matter what it takes and save the doctors. Even if it means he has to kill Spinner. Everyone thinks that Iida is going to violently charge at and destroy the crowd. But no. Iida doesn't do that. Instead, he uses his immense speed to rescue everyone in the hospital. He is going at such high speeds that he is able to save everyone before they can die and move them to another location away from the fighting. All except Kurogiri, who is under such heavy defense that Iida could not reach him. Everyone is shocked and amazed at this, including Iida, who never thought he'd be able to pull off such a move.

After it's all done, Iida is spent. He used Recipro Burst too much and is now unable to move. Yet he still stands, begging the crowd to not attack the hospital. This is where Iida's arc ends. He gets to be a true hero, focusing on saving others rather than trying to hurt them, and making another speech to stop a raging crowd. The doctors can be out there as well, as I do think that bit is important to the greater themes of the series. And it does work for a moment. Spinner does not care though. He still moves forward. And then suddenly stops in his tracks. Only to reveal Stain had used "Bloodcurdle" on him, leaping from on high to stop the assault on the hospital. 

Yeah, I'm throwing Stain in here too. I've always disliked how Stain's death was handled. I don't mind him dying, just how it was done. Not only did it feel totally pointless, barely adding anything to the final fight with All For One, it felt so inconclusive to his character. There's more that could be done. We have already got the conclusion to All Might and Stain's connections at the statue, so having him die with Toshonori doesn't really fit. To me, Iida and Spinner have some of the strongest connections to Stain. Because they were the ones who were most changed by interacting with him and his legacy as a villain. So I believe that adding him here will add more to the arc and his own character.

This is a point where Stain takes Spinner to task about everything he's done so far. About how this was not his dream and not his goal. That was to flush out all the fake heroes. Not to hurt people who "didn't deserve it". By killing Iida and attacking his hospital, they are all corrupting his mission. This really puts a stop to the crowd. This is their idol, the one who started their revolution. And now he's talking about how their work makes them sick. So now he stands against them. To protect Iida and the hospital. You could even call back to his infamous speech, a dreadful aura falling over the whole Quirk. Yet Spinner starts to move again much sooner, either from losing so much blood from "Scalemail" or having a Type-O blood type, and the Quirk stops affecting him.

He charges up to Iida, ready to cleave him in half. Only for Stain to block the attack to save Iida, dying in the process as his body gets stuck on Spinner's weapon. Only to be tossed aside without a care as Spinner makes his way to the hospital. In this way, it acknowledges the growth of Iida into a "true hero" in the eyes of Stain. It's between these three elements that the crowd stops. The heroic moment of Iida, the death of Stain, and the obvious indifference of Spinner are all what led to them realizing that this cause may not be worth fighting for and stopping the charge. I think that would be a lot more point of a moment. Because now we get the culmination of Iida's character, the ironic death of a major villain, and the final tragic note of Spinner as a character.

And I think having it be this way could make it more fitting for where the two end up. We see Iida start to work closely with Uraraka when helping out the children. Maybe Iida could be working with other kids that are in trouble. He can be the guy who is trying to help out his community and lead like example. Just like what his brother was doing before him. Meanwhile, it could help recontextualize Spinner's ending. I've already talked about this in my rewrite of the ending before, but I think this could add a nice way to present Spinner's book. That he wants to tell the truth of the League and have them be remembered, but not in a way that will radicalize people like him in the future. 

Now, is this a deviation from the main story and what this sub-arc was going for? Yeah, but I don't think that you are losing much by changing the players and context. Here, you can still have the misguided rioters that have close ties to Spinner, but without a lot of the sloppy writing surrounding the Mutant storyline. It also can give more meat to two major characters that felt shafted by the final storyline. Iida get's recognized as a true hero, finally living up goal he had since he fought Stain. Stain himself dies an ironic, but fitting death. He dies at the hands of a follower who idolized him, but did so saving a kid he said was a false hero. Overall, I believe this does more justice to the characters and the story.