#i know they need the traffic. i know. I reblog help posts whenever i see them oh my dash or mentions. I just

[donutloverxo]

A Royal Scandal 2

Modern royalty au

(Image from Pinterest)

Cowritten with @lizzygal

I'm so sorry! I made a mistake while posting this yesterday so I'm reposting it now. Hope y'all enjoy💖

Note - Since y'all liked it so much we've decided to post this fic on both ao3 and my tumblr! There will be no taglists for this however💖 You can subscribe to the ao3 story to receive updates!

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs are welcome. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+.

Summary - Modern ruler, His Majesty King Steven G Rogers, is on a quest to make his long term secret relationship the real thing. He is a man in love and wants his lover and partner to be his queen.

Warnings - Smut (m/f), dub con/non con, sex tape, scandals, mentions of past domestic abuse, soft dark Steve, possessive Steve, spanking, power imbalance, Mentions of previous domestic abuse.

Pairing - King!Steve x reader

Word count - 8k

To be fair, Steven could understand why his mother was so upset after watching the entire footage from the royal steam rooms. He had a far better understanding after having seen the footage in question. The one that had led to his mother’s reaction that very morning.

Seated beside Carol on the ride back, he slipped in his wireless earbuds and pulled up the first video he found online on his phone.

A separate car had been sent for you for whenever your meeting completed. However, he had a whole series of his own back at the palace before his day could be considered over in the administrative offices. Days were never really over for him. Should anything happen somewhere in his nation, he would be informed. As was expected for a ruler.

Until then, he had fifteen or so minutes to kill till he arrived back at the royal palace, depending on city traffic.

Which was how he found himself watching what was obviously some sort of hidden camera. As the royal banya did not have CCTV cameras. Steve found himself making a mental note to himself to ask Carol about it.

After he watched the video.

He had the feeling that this would not be going away anytime soon. Therefore, he needed to know what was on there if he was going to have to defend his actions, or even speak about it.

It was somewhat surreal watching himself walk into view wearing nothing. Not even a towel. Talking with someone who was obviously you.

Based on where the camera was located, Steve could tell it was somewhere in the hallway that led from the steam rooms into either the showers or locker room. Thank all the saints above your back was to the camera. Half of it anyway. You were standing at a turn in the hallway, leaning against the wall. Half of you hidden. A towel wrapped around your body.

Thanking those saints above still that there was no sound, Steve watched on as a voice narrated the video, some celebrity blogger dissecting the footage as if it were a pivotal moment in some sporting event.

Steve watched himself turn to face you, facing the camera too and exposing his entire self to the world.

Not that he was ashamed. He had nothing to be ashamed about. Steve was built tall and powerful like his father and mother’s father. He kept himself in shape and as for the manhood that hung heavy between his thighs, he refused to be embarrassed by that either. The blogger however did have several opinions about what she referred to as, the royal sword.

She also seemed to be very opinionated when Steve watched himself kneel down in front of you. He’d never watched himself go down on you before and found himself transfixed, easily able to ignore the blogger’s excited rambling.

For once, Steve watched your hands sink into his hair as he sank between your legs. He watched your pleasure grow and grow, he watched you sag back into the wall and reach up, grabbing at it like a cat stretching out in the hot sun.

Seeing it happen like this? Steve felt like a voyeur. He felt like he was doing something wrong. And then, he watched you climax on his face. He watched your hands tighten up against the corner of the walls meeting. He watched himself stand and no longer noticed the commentary as he sheathed himself between your legs and proceeded to pound you into the wall without mercy.

His attention caught on one little inconsequential thing. Watching one of your legs that wound over his thigh bounce wildly each time.

Quickly he exited out of the video and blog. Unwilling to watch more. Pulling a bud from his ear, he glanced over at Carol who was watching the city fly by her window.

“Have you inquired as to if the palace guard has looked into how the video was taken in the royal banya?”

Blonde hair dusted her shoulders as she looked at her king. Carol answered without a second of hesitation. “Already done Your Majesty. The camera was found this morning. A webcam of some type. It’s been sent away for fingerprints and I have the best IT professional I know looking into it, to determine if we can track down who it belongs to. The royal guard has also launched an investigation into all palace employees.”

“Thank you,” he answered her with complete sincerity.

Captain Danvers had been at his side since he assumed the throne and had proven herself hundreds of times over. She was his confidant. She was his bodyguard. She was his closest thing to a friend, if Steve could say he had such a thing. He could tell Carol anything. He had told Carol about you. Carol had told him about her sick mother and in return, Steve have given her a cottage on palace grounds while providing a nurse. So that Carol would be able to spend as much time as possible with her mother in her final days. Carol still lived on the palace grounds in that cottage down by the gardens.

“I’ll let you know when I know something,” she assured him.

***

Your return to the palace felt like it took forever. Mostly because your panties were very obviously damp from leakage and you were greatly concerned about a wet stain. The modern equivalent of a scarlet letter. Letting everyone know what you’d done.

Twice you’d checked in a bathroom along with every mirrored surface you came across.

Alas, it seemed you were in luck.

No one would know that you’d had inappropriate contact on a workday, or think you’d had an accident. Granted if someone would have noticed you planned on blaming your monthlies.

By the grace of the many women who came before you, you managed to get back to the palace without being caught and were about to go change your panties when a familiar face popped into your office.

“Hey! You’re coming! I’m not taking no for an answer!”

Wanda.

Bright red hair and a brighter red dress that was far from office appropriate appeared in your office, leaping in like an acrobat leaping onto a stage. Making you look up from where you stood behind your desk, digging through your handbag.

A bunch of different thoughts buzzed through your head.

What was Wanda talking about? Where did she want you to go? Did Wanda wear that mini-dress to work? Cause it was about five inches too short and did downright sinful things to the girls. Wanda could always pull off anything. She looked amazing in clubwear, sweats and those tea-party dresses that Jackie O was always wearing.

“Coming?” Fell from your lips in a valiant attempt to stall till you could make sense of what was happening. “What are you not taking no for an answer for this time?”

In your roommate swept like a hurricane.

“It’s practically six!” She declared, as if that was supposed to mean something to you. It had you staring at her and waiting for more information. Hands paused in their hunt for clean panties and a pantyliner in your bag’o’stuff. “No more talk of this fake boyfriend. You and me are going to go have dinner. We’re going to hit the bars to pre-game and then to the clubs! Everyone is going so you are too!”

Such news had you freezing in your patent leather pumps.

Pre-gaming? Dinner? Clubs? Everyone?

How?

It was only Thursday and then you remembered.

It was a long weekend. The winning of some great victory over the Germans from the big war that you only kinda remembered hearing about. Mostly because you’d been busy with the border issue and the education overhaul. You’d known that it was coming up and the entire four-day weekend would be spent celebrating.

Wanda saw your face. She saw what you were thinking. She was practically a mind reader. Which led her to pointing at you scoldingly. “No! No no no! No checking emails or messages. No more work. No! We’re going out tonight and we are going to have fun! You remember what fun is? Right?”

But…you really did have emails and messages to check. You actually did have a ton of work to do. Granted you always had emails and messages to check, plus work piling up. It was the nature of your job. Helping in the running of a country was a 24/7 gig.

“Wanda…”

“Nope!” She declared, marching on into your office and behind your desk to chase you out. Shooing you. Literally making you hop away and grab your handbag because you just knew Wanda wasn’t letting you back near your desk. That much was for sure.

Like a sheepdog, she herded you around your messy desk as you attempted to protest, to get her to listen, to inform her that you really really did have a good bit of work to do.

“Wait…hold on…wait, Wanda…just one second…gah!”

“No more protests! I’m not going to hear it anymore! I refuse to let you hide behind work or the fake boyfriend.”

More protests came from you. You tried. You really really did. But Wanda was shoving and pushing and hip bumping you out into a hallway that did not look like an office building, instead, it was very obviously a palace.

Your heels clicked on polished white marble that shone. Walls were cream and had priceless art hung around, gold gilded borders ran up along where the ceiling met the walls. Light fixtures were old, bronze and cut glass. Furniture that belonged in Sotheby’s was sparsely decorated around the halls.

Door were old and creaky up and down the halls, wooden with locks that required big iron keys.

It was unlike any other place you’d ever worked.

You could feel and see and even smell the smokey history oozing from the walls.

A few people were hurrying out of their offices and locking the doors behind them, which Wanda didn’t even let you do as she went on indignantly. “No! Nope! Clint from Tinder will not wait forever! He digs foreigners and he has a job and he loves to dance!”

At mention of Tinder, your gut lurched.

Dear god not this again.

Why had you ever agreed to let Wanda make you a Tinder profile? At the time it seemed so reasonable. Let her make the profile and she’d get off your ass about your alleged imaginary boyfriend. Problem solved! How on earth were you to know she’d be on the damn app making matches for you?

“Why don’t you go out with Clint from Tinder,” you wanted to know, earning yourself a roll of Wanda’s eyes as you were dragged down along the hallway to the massive marble stairs. Looking as if they’d been carved from one piece, smoothly curling down a floor to the ground floor. Large chandeliers hung with cut glass that threw light everywhere. A massive painting hung up on the large wall of a long dead large royal family in the palace of past.

“He’s not my type. But he is absolutely your type.”

Somehow you doubted that.

Sighing deeply and focusing on not snapping your ankle on the stairs and in your heels, you followed Wanda down, mixing in with the few stragglers who were leaving work and making mental notes to text Steve and let him know you’d be late coming back to the palace that night. You were then planning when you could check your work emails and work-phone messages. That had to be done in a quiet place where no one could overhear. Maybe you could go out to the club and feign a tummy ache? Then sneak away from Clint? It’d probably be much easily to sneak away from Clint than Wanda.

Click. Click. Click.

With every step you maneuvered down your heels were noisy. You’d managed to fling your sizable bag over your shoulder and just knew Steve was going to be annoyed with you. But he was an adult. Being adults meant the two of you would have to do things that you didn’t want.

“So help me, if it kills the both of us, you and I will be going out tonight and having a fun time! This is a celebratory weekend! There are festivities going on all over the city!” Wanda went on, yanking you along behind her upon reaching the bottom step and heading in the general direction of the ground floor exits.

Hurrying along behind her, you followed but you weren’t happy about it.

God did you have so much work to do and you really really wanted to spend the night with Steve. And maybe if you gave in to Wanda, she’d get off your ass about your fake boyfriend? Wait, no, your secret boyfriend, because Steve was very real, you just didn’t want to be eviscerated all over the internet and tabloids for dating a king.

You’d seen what happened when a pretty actress had dated then married a prince who didn’t rule his country. The only thing you had going for you was Steve’s country was still looked at with some serious side-eye from the world, due to past events and rulers. Plus, he wasn’t a young prince that had grown up before the eyes of the world. He was a son of a tyrant, a citizen of a sizable nation the world still viewed suspiciously with a questionable human rights record.

“You’re going to love the club! It’s totally new and they open at ten. Meaning we can have plenty of time with the girls!”

Girls?

As in plural?

Because of course this would be a group event. Wanda never half-assed anything.

“Wanda…” you began.

Before Wanda could turn her attention on you, loud shrill lady screams came and you were greeted to the sight of Maria, Okoye and Pepper. All three threw up their arms and grabbed Wanda in a big hug, yanking her away from you and freeing you from her grip.

Loud girl screeches followed.

There was group hopping and hugs and laughter.

It should have made you realize that it’d been so long since you had a fun girls night. It should have reminded you that you were young and your life shouldn’t be all about work and sneaking off with your boyfriend whenever the two of you were able to.

Your heart should have been warmed by the sight of your palace coworkers who were clearly part of the aforementioned Girls.

How long had it been since you had fun?

How long had it been since you’d had a night out on the town?

What were you doing?

Were you jumping and screeching and hugging too?

No.

You were digging into your handbag so you could text Steve real quick. To let him know about your change in plans before he began to think you’d bailed because you were a coward and got cold feet.

Just as your fingers touched the smooth surface of your iPhone…

A noise caught your attention.

Movement.

Peering up to the side at the wall, or what you’d assumed was a hallway wall since you were in another hallway nearly identical to the one upstairs. All while the hugfest continued. You noticed that the wall was at a weird angle. As if it were opening up on a hinge and by the time you realized that the wall was actually an opening to a hidden passageway, a hand grabbed your elbow and yanked you in.

No more than a soft squeak came from you.

In you tumbled.

Into a dimly lit hallway that was actually a passageway you found yourself. With a metal sounding click the wall slid back into place and a big hand fell over your mouth. Making you immediately panic, immediately reach up to grab the hand that was silencing you. Making an arm band around your chest and pull you flush back against a broad muscular body.

“Did you honestly think for one moment that I would allow you to go get drunk with Wanda? Or go to a club with a man that she met for you on Tinder?”

Steve.

It was Steve.

His faint aftershave still burnt your nose but paired with the masculine scent that was him, you relaxed only a little bit, just a smidge.

How the hell did he know all of that? Had he bugged your office? Was he following you?

Deep in your chest your heart pounded wildly. Your skin was on fire. Even though it was dimly lit, you swore you could see each nail and groove in the wooden walls of the hidden passage.

Steve’s shoes were soft on the carpeted floor. Yours however never reached. Your legs dangled. Desperately you stretched out to try and reach your toes down, but alas, Steve was holding you up and was simply that much taller than you. Easily holding you up as he carried you.

His voice an angry snarl, a seething whisp against your ear. “That is so disappointing my love. A failure on both our parts,” came his angry voice. Walking with sure footing and a quick pace through the only barely lit halls.

Turning here and there, quickly and suddenly, until you were very much lost.

A protest came from behind his palm that was crushed against your mouth. Your blood heating with every passing second till it felt as if it were boiling. All that sudden fear was turning into anger at this treatment.

“I’ve clearly failed you if you’re unable to announce with nothing but the utmost certainty that you’re both in a relationship and have no desire to go out clubbing with whomever Clint from Tinder is.” The word clubbing was spat out, as if Steve found it vile on his tongue. “As for you? Yesterday we were discussing where to go for your birthday and today, you refused to answer one of my calls! You have work to do tonight to make up to me your behavior today!”

Further down the hidden passageway you were unceremoniously carried pulled to his front. Your brain racing at warp speed.

You had work to do? You had to make up for your behavior?

Had he lost his damn mind?

Had he not seen the video of his naked nether-regions all over the internet? Or the sex that made the footage a sex tape? The two of you were now amateur porn stars and he was mad that you? Because you were trying to be lowkey until the entire situation blew over? Steve was mad because you were being reasonable?

A most valiant attempt was made to free yourself.

You struggled. You kicked. You flailed and shrilled behind the hand over your mouth. No longer taken by surprise or frightened. Now you were growing angry.

On top of being terrified of being found out in that footage and ridiculed by the world, or worse, chased out of this country by a horde of angry people who didn’t agree with you being the kings choice as not only a foreigner, but one from pretty humble roots. You were upset that the world saw such an intimate moment between the two of you and even if Steve didn’t care that his junk was all over the internet, you cared. You cared a great deal. The royal junk was your junk. It was bad enough you had to know he’d dated women before you who’d seen him nude and were intimate with him, but now the world? It was simply too much for you to comprehend.

Steve slowed and turned, using his elbow he made something pop and a slight crack of light where there was obviously another hidden door in the wall appeared.

Using his broad shoulder, Steve pushed the door open and stepped out into a hallway that led down to the royal chambers and split off.

With his knee, he shoved the hidden panel shut and tightening his grip on you, Steve hurried down that hallway.

A completely different one from where the administrative offices were located.

Rich wooden paneling covered the walls. Making everything appear warmer, lusher. An amber haze hung in the air.

Thick carpet was underfoot. Furniture spoke to its age but had been made with a quality that endured. Like this palace. Built when his land was called something else but had stood through time in proof of his claim to the throne.

Generations before him had ruled, claimed spouses and lovers in these halls, grown old and made history and now it was his turn.

Merely that knowledge had him growing excited in his slacks for a second time that day. All of your thrashing and struggling didn’t help. If anything, it sparked a part of his brain that insisted he ravish and conquer you in his royal bed.

Mouth pressed to your ear, till he felt amber and diamonds press against his lips. “I swear, I will spend the rest of tonight inside of you until things are as they were yesterday. Until you remember that when I speak to you in any manner, you answer. Considering how thoroughly you’ve consumed every last part of me, it is only fair.”

And then, in his slowed pace down the hall ever closer to the door that would lead into Steve’s Royal Apartment, he saw a portrait up on the wall that made him pause.

It was him.

Or his portrait from when he’d turned thirty.

There he stood looking down at you both. Dressed ceremonially in his crown, holding the traditional ruling scepter and wearing the robes from kings of past. Fur, jeweled toned fabric that he’d easily filled out with gold adornments, amber buttons and pipping on his shoulders.

What was most striking about this portrait compared to all the others of Steven throughout the palace, was he was alone in it and unlike all the others, at the time, he’d not been single.

Further making that internal fire burn hotter.

Making him stop and force you to look up at it with him. Framed in a gilded bronze heirloom. Up where he had to look at it to be reminded of what could have been.

“Look! Look!”

You stopped struggling and looked, were well aware of his mouth against your hair.

“See? See it? You could have been there with me. At my side. Wearing my crown. Wearing the robes and jewels of my grandmothers. My queen.”

And indeed you saw.

When you’d seen the finished portrait, you had been blown away at how your body reacted to the sight of your lover in his traditional uniform he only pulled out for big special events. How powerful he looked. How sexy he was wearing a crown, holding a golden scepter with an eagle on the end clutching a piece of amber the size of an egg.

The arm around your chest fell so he could point at the empty space in the picture beside him. “Look. Right there. That is where you would have been. Right there. At my side.”

His hand over your mouth still held you flush against him. Pulled tight against him.

That thought, that entire notion of you painted on a portrait, up there with Steve at his side. It was so surreal to you.

When it was just you and Steve it was fire and gold and everything was amazing. When it was King Steve and his Chief of Staff it was stimulating and exciting. You still weren’t sure about being queen. A queen! That wasn’t like being a princess or a duchess. A queen was different. Even the word felt different.

It made your heart start to pound wildly in your chest again. It made you breathe hard against the back of his hand. It made you have a physiological reaction.

***

This was not how Carol intended to spend her night.

It was not how she wished to start her off-time. Having given Val the update on all things that had transpired for the day as she handed off command of the Royal Guard to her fellow captain.

No sooner had she told Val everything, did one of the messengers from communications come hurrying in. A slip of paper in her hand. A note that changed everything for that night, that week and even that month.

It had left Carol walking through the royal apartments towards the Queen Mother’s rooms.

As she knew exactly what King Steven was doing and quite frankly, she wanted no part in disturbing that unless she absolutely had to.

Besides. The message that had been sent to the palace via royal envoy was meant for Her Majesty. It was best Her Majesty the Queen Mother figured out how best to deal with this coming…situation.

Compared to His Majesty’s Private Rooms, Sarah’s were all light and brightness. White marble and ornate touches. Colorful priceless paintings and large bouquets of fresh flowers in crystal vases. Soft plush furniture held little personal touches. A white chenille throw draped over her couch by a fireplace. Pink slippers sat on the floor. Books both new and ancient with various markers holding her place were scattered about. Fresh flowers. She loved fresh flowers. They were everywhere.

As expected, the door to the Queen Mother’s apartments were open.

Carol still paused outside of it to knock gently.

“Your Majesty?” She called out, looking at her watch to see that it was nearing seven. Around seven was when the queen took her dinner meal privately. Of course she’d leave the door open for kitchen staff to bring up food as usual. It wasn’t one of the nights that was reserved for Steve and his mother to have their dinners together.

After the death of her husband the former king, Sarah had effectively thrown open all the doors that he had imprisoned her with.

Her soft voice drifted out.

Delicate and gentle.

The Queen Mother sat in a large chair by a big window overlooking the city. Her pale hair pulled back at the nape of her neck. A string of pearls tightened and loosened around her fingers as she lowered the book she’d been reading. A pleasant smile came over her soft features.

Upon seeing the stone of Carol’s face, the queen frowned. “What is it? What is wrong?”

Only confirming that something was wrong, Carol shut the door and locked it.

Dinner had been brought up. Smells emanated from the queens private dining room off to the left. It reminded Carol that she hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning. It had been that kind of a day.

Clasping her hands before her, she rocked back on her heels. “A message was sent by Her Highness Janet Van Dyne. She and her daughter will be at the palace tomorrow…”

Janet and Hope Van Dyne?

Steven’s former fiancée and her mother?

Two golden eyebrows rose, making Carol press on. “Her Highness is under the impression that they’ll be staying here? In the palace?”

All of this was new to Sarah.

She had not heard from Janet since Steve’s coronation. When she and her husband had been in attendance. Earlier that particular year, Hope had broken her engagement with Steven to run away with a Maharaja.

It’d been all over the tabloids.

A young princess of the Netherlands had broken her engagement to the crown prince of an incredibly traditional nation to follow her heart. Hope had spent many years splashed across tabloids and blogs with a handsome charismatic Asian Prince. She’d lost her royal title and gave tell-all interviews about how her family had forbade her from running away and how she’d never marry a man from infamous Rogers Royal Line. And then, oddly, she was back home with her family this year.

Sarah had found it unusual. Alas, she was a busy woman with a life of her own to keep her busy.

“Was anything else in the message,” Sarah wanted to know.

Carol shook her head.

It had been a simple message that was very to the point.

Sighing in a most un-Sarah-like sort of way. She set her book down on the arm of her chair and rose. Tall. Willowy. Pursing her lips. Her dress fell around her in a gauzy cloud.

“Do you want me to tell His Majesty?”

Pausing, the older women considered the question. Dare she tell her son? He deserved to know. Nothing good would come from this visit.

If it were Janet alone? Sarah would not be so suspicious. But Janet and Hope? And that they would come so last minute? After the release of this video footage from the royal sauna?

“Is my son with her?”

Silence.

Carol was quiet.

A noise came from the Queen Mother. A clicking of her tongue. Stepping into her slippers, she pulled the hem of her dress up. “I suppose I should not be surprised that you would keep this from me.”

More quiet came.

“I won’t ask. I’ll find out my own way and leave him be for now. Janet and Hope won’t be here tonight. This can be a problem for tomorrow, today has been difficult enough for us all. Let tomorrow be tomorrow.”

Let tomorrow be tomorrow.

On her other hand was her wedding band. A treasure itself. Now on the widow’s finger. It was so symbolic of the cage she’d lived in for the duration of her marriage.

Absentmindedly, she twisted the rings. “Have you eaten yet?” Pulling them up and down her hand. “I had hoped you would come. I had the kitchen bring up extra.” Off slipped the rings that she had to wear in public. In her hand they jingled until she set them down on a smoothly polished table.

With two heavy clicks, they bounced on the wood by a vase full of peonies. Freeing her for the time being.

“I missed you while you were away.”

A blush bloomed over her porcelain complexion at Carol’s words.

As she watched Carol lock the door to her chambers, a warmth bloomed within her chest. Such words were so simple. So honest. They were words she had not heard before in her life. In this new chapter however, in this new time in her life, she had become accustomed to kind words and compassion.

“I missed you as well.” She confessed, stepping closer and still keeping space between them. As some habits died hard. “Stay with me? Tonight?”

“There is nothing I want more, Sarah.”

***

As it turned out, now you were ready to talk.

However.

Unfortunately.

Steve was now past that point and was on a whole other page.

You found yourself protesting when he carried you into his bedroom like some manner of caveman would carry a slab of meat. Shrilling out when he yanked and ripped and tore at your dress, forcing it over your head after ripping fabric and popping buttons, till it was an unsalvageable heap of material and threads.

Which was an absolute tragedy.

You loved that dress.

You even pointed out that fact to him somewhere between the threshold of his bedroom and his massive bed that really was fit for a king.

It was so big!

A headboard wider than Wanda’s itty-bitty car was long. An elaborate collection of regal flourishes and shapes. Dark sheets so soft they were slippery awaited you as you screeched and hollered, letting out an outraged sound when your bra was popped then yanked roughly from you.

“Steven!” You admonished your king, toes digging deep into the thick carpet as you’d lost your shoes back in the hallway leading to his quarters.

This whole evening was going off the rails for you. There was no other way to put it.

Dim sconces on the wall lit the way. Highly effective mood lighting if you ever saw it. Allowing you to see the set in Steve’s face, the firm line of his mouth.

His fingers wrapped around the back of your neck so he could hold you close, ground out for your benefit. “All day long I tried. Calls. Messages. Texts. Did you want to talk? No. You ignored me. Now I do not wish to talk either.”

Pushing you forward, you found yourself stumbling but knew if you didn’t walk on your own, Steve would merely toss you up on his bed. Up on the sea of pillows. Framed by gilded silver and dark curtains that came down from above to allow for privacy.

“All day long you denied me. I’ll remind you what is mine until you’re thinking clearly again. Until we’re back where we were yesterday!”

“I’m ready to talk now! I’m in a place where I can discuss this with you! I am thinking clearly!”

Words were not needed.

Oh no.

Not when the king grabbed your hand, pulled your arm back and pressed your palm against his straining erection. Hot to the touch. Shockingly hard. Painfully so even you were willing to bet.

Your knees hit the bed and you were pushed forward till you fell over, till you wound up on the expanse of bedding in a tangle of hands and knees and that silky smooth material.

A big explosion came from Steve. Feeling like and you were flailing on your stomach, trapped beneath his oppressive weight and the bed. Fighting. Wiggling. Trying to get free from beneath him but bigger stronger arms had your wrists.

Something was being wrapped around your wrists that you couldn’t see, as your vision was impeded by the broad chest in your face. Right there. Blocking your line of sight. Pinning you down to the sea of grey until finally, finally, he was up and you were once more struggling, wiggling, jerking and finding that you were tied to the headboard.

You were tied to the headboard. You were naked and bound to his bed.

Silky fabric that was Steve’s tie bound your wrists snugly together and wove into the headboard, securing you there most soundly.

It was outrageous! It was absurd!

You were tied to his headboard!

It was a first for you.

When your gaze returned to your boyfriend and even that was now a bit questionable, you were greeted to the sight of Steve shedding his suit. Yanking off each garment without pause or care. A few tears were heard and he was far rougher than need be. A button or two may have flown off.

“You cannot be serious! That’s your plan? You’re going to take what’s yours? Are you serious? This is not the dark ages!”

Ignoring you, Steve shoved his slacks down his long legs. Allowing his rigid cock to bob obscenely. Causing an eyeroll to immediately come from you. A hint of something dark on his hip caught your eye. But it was only a flash and as he was moving, yanking off his suit jacket and fiercely ripping open buttons on his shirt, you couldn’t get a good look.

Was it a bruise? A tattoo?

Somehow you doubted kings were even allowed to have tattoos. Or that Steve even had the time to get himself permanently inked. When the hell did he get that bruise?

Momentarily distracted by him climbing up on the bed, you looked up to give your bindings a good hard yank.

No luck.

Steve’s weight was pushing you down. Shoving you into the bed. Pinning you down as you protested, implored and began to plea. Which was exactly what he wanted. After everything you had put him through today? You would beg. You would plead. You would forget all about that video.

“Open your mouth.”

It was an order.

It could be nothing less.

An absolute command that had your lips slowly parting as your eyes widened in surprise at the sudden treatment, this roughness. Steve held his painful erection in hand and pushed his tip to your lips. Pushed the red end of his cock sticky with precum past your lips. Till you were forced to open your mouth wider and wider for him. To take him deeper and deeper into your mouth.

Steve held your gaze and pushed his member in further. Straddling your chest and gripping his headboard in one hand, till it dug into his fingers. While his other hand grabbed your face to hold it tight.

You’d never be able to take all of him. He knew this. You’d never been able to no matter how much you’d tried. But he wanted to see how much he could fit in your mouth tonight.

“Don’t swallow. Don’t let me down again.”

Your mouth was so warm closing around him. Wet. Sacred. It made him want to close his eyes to sink in deep but Steve would not. He would do that soon enough. He would lose himself in your cunt soon enough.

A few small movements from his hips sank his cock deeper into your mouth. Filling your cheeks as you struggled. Until you found a motion of moving up and down his length, running your tongue along his sides. Wetting up his shaft till sloppy noises started to fill his ears and a small little dribble began to moisten the corners of your mouth.

Those blue eyes remained set on your own. Never once showing you mercy.

“Tomorrow. In the future. If I call or text, you will answer.”

There was no follow-up. Nor was it a question.

Long fingers that belonged on an artist or musician sank into your hair tightly.

All you could do was nod as drool rolled down your chin and you suckled his cock like you would a popsicle, without swallowing, sucking on his sensitive flesh as he liked and without the aid of your own hands to steady his member.

It was glorious and Steve could only slightly appreciate it. As the words that fell from his mouth were more important, more vital.

Feeling how wet your mouth was getting was fantastic. Absolutely. Your nimble tongue was a gift. No one had ever sucked his cock like you.

However…he was still frustrated, still angry, still hurt even.

He’d not worked his way through those feelings as of yet.

Perhaps? In your body?

Those feelings teased and taunted him with his unworthiness. Of how you hadn’t been firmer with your roommate. How you had allowed her to drag you down the stairs for a night out with possibly another man? It infuriated him. It sent his hips rocking into your mouth. It had his cock rubbing up along the back of your throat and made your eyes water.

No.

Steve would not lose you. He loved you too much to even entertain such a notion. No. Infact, he would make sure that he ruined you. By the end of the night, he would make certain that you’d never even amused the notion of being set up. He would be completely sure that when you left his chambers come morning, you would never be doubted when you told Wanda or anyone that you had a partner.

“I want to start publicly courting you. I want to be engaged this year. I do not want to hide any longer. When people look at you, I want them to know that you belong to me.”

Noises came around his cock that Steve knew were words and he did not care.

“Look at yourself.” Steve stilled, his words harsh, bitter even. “You have my cock in your mouth and I am completely at your mercy. Tied to the bed of kings because I cannot go one night without dreaming of you, fantasizing about your tight cunt and smooth skin. I would give you the world and all you want is nothing. You are the worst type of infuriating.”

As if to prove his point, he steadily pumped his pelvis up into your mouth. Each slide in pushed saliva and pre-ejaculate out, making it ooze from the seal of your lips around his erection. Against your throat his wet balls bounced. His ass rested on your chest and he could not get enough. More. He wanted more. He needed more. Craved more.

The urge to go harder was strong.

Steve wanted so badly to fuck you. To make you feel how much you drove him mad. How you caused him physical pain from longing alone.

With drool smeared down your chin and neck, never looking more beautiful in his opinion, Steve pulled his dick out. Done with your mouth for now. Needing more. Needing to grab your tits and to be closer to your face, looking closer into your eyes.

In a familiar sort of way, your throat bobbed.

“Did you just swallow when I specifically told you not to?”

A moment of hesitation followed from you that had Steve gripping your face, easing his body down yours but holding your slippery chin tight in his grip. Your eyes were wide. Again, probably without even realizing, you swallowed in nervousness.

“I’m…I’m sorry…”

“I’m sorry what,” he demanded, leaning down closer, licking the wetness from your chin and earning from you a most satisfying shiver that wracked your body.

“S-s-sorry, Your Majesty.”

His tongue was hot and wet on your chin. His body was heavy and hot on your own. Skin on skin contact made your brain short circuit. It was a miracle you could string those syllables together. With your hands bound so snugly to the bed. All you could do was take it. Take what he gave you.

Feeling him push your thighs open and position himself between your hips made you gasp. Words failed you.

And then words didn’t even matter because he was pushing into you. Claiming you. Taking what was his because you did belong to him. You belonged to him in every possible way.

A scream exploded out of you when he dove right in. Sank in till his crown was pressed up against the wall of your cervix. Deeper than anyone had ever been before. Hands were grabbing your ankles and spreading you wide. Spearing you on his cock. Stretching your body taut.

“So wet. You were made to take me. Made to take your king.” He whispered more to himself even though you heard. You would have heard a pin drop. You could hear your heart pound and blood rush through your ears, each gasp your lungs took. You could feel every last inch of him deep inside your core. Painfully stretching you open like this. Burning. Tingling. Twisting.

Hands tightened on your ankles till you looked up at Steve. Hovering over you like a pillaging warlord about to ravish his prize.

“You have till Monday to decide how you wish us to become public. I will not wait a day longer.”

Seeing you like this before him. Splayed out. Your pussy curled around his member, plump from being filled with your breasts round puddles up on your chest. It set his hips into a frenzy. Powerful thrusts were sent into your tight walls that made Steve grunt every time from the power behind his motions, from the sight of his cock vanishing up into you. Watching your pussy take him so hungrily as you cried out beneath him each time. Breasts swaying. Skin slapping on skin with the contact. Your hips jiggled, his headboard creaked, his balls slapped soundly against you both.

“Say it. Say the words to me. Say them!” Steve commanded you. Pieces of his hair falling and sticking to his sweaty forehead as he sank in to the very depths of you then pulled out, revealing a glistening shaft before slamming his member right back in where it belonged.

“Yes…yes…yes…yes…” you chanted, over and over, again and again with every thrust in, every withdraw that was like heaven and hell, your body needing him to complete this circuit only the two of you could create. “…yes…yes…my king…yes my king…”

Those words. They were a song to his ears and had your ankles slapped together. Those words had the backs of your thighs slapped wetly against his chest, your feet touching his shoulder as Steve continued to pound into you.

Pumping into your now closed thighs, into your tighter walls at this angle.

“Look!”

Dimly your eyes fluttered, you looked into his burning blue eyes.

“Look. Here.”

You followed his gaze to where he pointed, looking down at his pelvis, where his hip met his abdomen in that hard cut of muscle that was visible above his beltline. The one you loved to lick.

He did have a tattoo.

It took you a second to realize what you were looking at and focus, as his thrusts continued without mercy, pounding away, slamming into you without mercy. Shaking and pushing you into his bed.

Your writing was inked into his skin. Your very own signature.

Your name was forever scrawled into Steve’s skin and then, it hit you. Your climax took you by complete surprise. Your entire body went stiff. A pained noise came from you and you shattered all around his cock. Fingernails dug into your palm and you stared at your name in cruel ecstasy.

Steve fell too. You could tell from his thrusts getting wild, falling out of sync. You could tell because he swore out, clenched his face and held your thighs tight to his chest.

Pumping deeply into you while your body milked him for everything he had to give.

Making him merely a man in that moment with you.

Up on his headboard, you were tightly secured and would soon have bruises from arching up against the silk tie restraining you. Unable to do anything but feel and accept what your king was giving you. On your back. In a bed that past kings had slept in.

None of which was lost on you.

Not as your body felt leaden, filled with molten hot lava. Limp. Your secret garden continued to suck him in, clench around him and spasm, making your eyes roll up in your head, your body dig into his bed and words fall from your mouth.

In a most dignified sort of manner, your king humped into your body like a jack rabbit, chasing the last vestiges of his climax with coral wet lips and dark honey hair now damp with sweat.

A sight for your satiated eyes.

“Let me call my mother in the morning.” You breathed out slowly, as if figuring out how your lungs worked once more after a marathon. Your words making Steve still above you. Though your cunt did not. It twitched around his royal girth and you met his gaze from on his pillows. “Tomorrow you can have Maria release a statement saying whatever you want. Just let me tell my parents myself. They should hear from me that I’m not coming home.”

Whatever wind that may have held up his sails had clearly been withdrawn.

Almost tenderly now, Steve leaned forward to quickly loosen the silk around your wrists and free your hands from his headboard. Stretching out his long powerful body above you. Flushed red now. Glistening. Though he left his tie there. He remained inside of you too. Filling you and stretching you full.

Gently, he pushed your legs down until they wrapped around him and he was able to rest his weight most carefully on top of you. Pressing wet kisses to your nose, your cheeks and chin. Worshipping your face with delicate touches and caresses.

“I’ll fly them out here whenever you want. When we get back from Switzerland, I’ll have them waiting for you.”

Softly you answered, reveling in his softness now that your body had been given her reward, her treat, her pleasure from his roughness. Smelling the musk of his sweat and feeling the wet glide between your bodies.

Leisurely, your hands found their way up his muscular arms to his shoulders. “You know what I mean. I won’t ever be their daughter again. I won’t ever be Wanda’s roommate. I’ll have to quit my job. Nothing will ever be the same.”

Those words, well, they settled uncomfortably in him.

All of them were true.

You would be giving up so much. He would have to make sure to take care of you even more so, keep a closer eye on you. He would need to have a talk with his mother come morning.

“That’s true,” Steve softly conceded, rubbing his nose along your own. Barely grazing his lips over yours. A hint of a tongue touched you before his breath danced over your mouth. “We would be together though. Finally together. You. Me. Not hiding anymore.”

Speaking of hiding.

That word alone had you pulling away from his mouth to lean to the side, to get a look down at his Adonis belt. At the alluring groove that led down to his pubes where your name was now in black.

Nay, your signature.

As if sensing what you were after, your boyfriend tilted up a smidge. Enough for you to see but not enough for him to leave your body. Pray tell that couldn’t happen.

“When did you do this?”

“Do you like it,” Steve asked, as if your opinion mattered. Which was laughable considering how permanent it was.

He’d literally took your signature and had it tattooed on his body.

“Of course I love it. Now you have a part of me on you all the time.” An incredibly modern take on Steve’s royal jewel gift thing, but in reverse you thought. Then grinned as it sank in. “I can’t believe you did it though.”

Why wouldn’t he have done it?

Steve hadn’t thought twice when Maria had gone on about getting her late mother’s writing tattooed on her side, in a lasting forever tribute. Having your writing on him at all times had been an idea that hadn’t left him. Not until he’d had a tattoo artist praised for their work brought to the palace late the other night.

He wasn’t even going to lie, king or not, there was something downright satisfying about having something like this hidden on his body from all. Known only by you and him. A secret only for you two.

Bringing him right back to the thought that the biggest secret the two of you shared would soon be out.

Soon it would be public knowledge and that had Steve brushing his fingertips over your cheeks, kissing the swell of your cheekbone and moving ever just so to make a small moan come from you. “You’ll never regret this. I’ll love you for the rest of my life. I’ll devote myself to making you happy. You’ll never regret becoming my queen.”

[simplysummers]

Breaking down Hunter and Omega’s relationship: pt 4.

Hi everybody. My biggest apologies for the delay on this series over the past two weeks, I’ve had a lot of medical issues going on, alongside a big decision in my life I had to make before the end of September taking precedence. However, with a little more time on my hands and a new team of proof readers behind me, I’m hoping to be back on track soon enough! I hope you enjoy my analysis of ‘Cornered’, and please always feel free to reply/reblog/send an ask with your opinions and discussions! I love to hear and reply to them! 💛

(Pasted paragraphs: I would just like to add a disclaimer here. I am, in no way whatsoever, slating the other batchers for having differing relationships with Omega. I absolutely adore everything single one of the boys, and I think they all have wonderful and unique interrelations with her. Although I may point out these different approaches in comparison to Hunter’s, I am not stating these engages are wrong, just different is all!

I’m going to separate this into a little series- covering each episode in a separate post, which I’ll have tagged as the series progresses. Once I’ve tackled these two, as they’re my favourites, I’m going to move on to each individual Batcher and perhaps a few other dynamics such and Hunter and Crosshair, or Wrecker and Omega! Let me know what you guys would like to see!)

(Thank you to this weeks proof-reader: @very-depressing-waffel 💛)

Cornered: S1/E4

Although minimal, I absolutely love the small interaction between these two in the opening scene of this episode. While it would make sense for Hunter to take the chair, as he is navigating co-ordinates, instead he allows Omega to sit down and rest, the pure affection between them is particularly radiant in these moments. I’d also like to note that it is Hunter’s order to originally send them to Idaflor, where we can only assume he is heeding Cut’s previous advice given on the subject of ‘disappearing to start a new life’. By connotation, this essentially means Hunter was extremely ready to settle down with his brothers and both raise and protect his newly found little one. However this clearly becomes an evident concern of Hunter’s as Omega begins to whine, claiming she desperately wants to explore the galaxy instead of hiding away on an uninhabited planet. Although appreciating her enthusiasm, he insists they cannot risk it, not right now, showing he has all further plans to take her to see the universe whenever it may be safe to do so. Her safety has become his priority.

Also, another little mimic on Omega’s part is mentioned after Tech’s evaluates their situation- “Well, Pantora it is.” “Pantora it is :)”. This angel, she steals my heart.

Moving on slightly to the arrival of Pantora, Hunter’s civvies and Omega carrying his backpack for him, which is as big as her little torso might I add, makes the world spin. Notice too how her eyes never leave him for a moment, it’s a typical child trait when wanting to catch an adult’s attention for good behaviour. After Wrecker mentions the implications of sightseeing, which ultimately peaks Omega’s interest, Hunter is quick to diffuse the situation by insisting this is only a quick supply run. I strongly believe this is because although he intends to take Omega into the city with him, most likely recognising her desperation to explore, his main intention is to keep her safe and protected, I personally spy a compromise here. Finally, regarding this little interaction, when inviting Omega to join them, he calls her ‘Mega, ‘MEGA!!! Hunter is the first member of the batch to nickname her affectionately, and her little excited cheer in response says it all!

When strolling through the busy marketplace, I noticed that alongside drinking up all sights she can set her eyes on, Omega continues to perform the aforementioned ‘smile at parent because I am both well behaved and very excited’ technique, breaking away from her awestruck staring to give Hunter a cute grin, which he affectionately returns under the realisation that her purity and innocence has erupted through something as simple as a marketplace, another endearing trait his charge has displayed. I’d also like to shed light on the protective hand-on-shoulder movement Hunter uses after the squad of troopers pass by him, Omega, and Echo. His wary stare and protectiveness is an extreme diversion from his usual headstrong attitude, which we know is correlated to his need to protect his charge. (Hand-on-shoulder, AGAIN. Comforting Dad alert!!)

When offering to trade with the Gran merchant, I noticed that whenever Omega picked up a new item to inspect or show off to Echo, Hunter glances over his shoulder to observe her. I have reason to believe he might not only be watching her explore, but keeping an eye on her after the incident on Cut’s farm. I can practically see Suu’s words of advice ringing in his ears, and he wants to make sure she stays out of trouble. And after she does inevitably knock something over, although he scowls a little in her direction (as any parent would), Hunter swiftly turns his look of annoyance towards the Gran as he begins to scold Omega, once again showing his protectiveness in her regard, and in all honesty, he has every right to respond this way, we’ve already established this salesman is stubborn and conceited.

The entire plot of this episode is centred around Omega’s inevitable separation from Hunter and Echo as she ends up running off to chase a voorpak, who has stolen her new doll. We cannot fault Omega for her behaviour, it was a little juvenile at most, but we must take into account this would be her first time in such a situation, and she has never been taught otherwise. Hunter’s immediate faltering smile as he realises Omega is missing is honestly gut wrenching. He has just received 3,000 credits, a hefty sum for what they’re in need of, and now he’s lost his ward, and the pain and concern is fully mirrored through his halting eyes.

I’m moving ahead slightly to add a little character-action comparison! Now, this may just be me nitpicking, and I mean no hate to Fennec Shand (I actually ADORE her), but did anybody else notice the difference between her hold on Omega and how Hunter holds her? Fennec’s fingers lay beneath the nape of Omega’s neck, almost curling into her tunic’s collar, and so while it may seem protective, it actually holds very possessive and controlling connotations. Whereas when Hunter places a hand to Omega’s shoulder, his fingers are quite loose, and it only ever rests up her upper shoulder, allowing the girl freedom if she so much as wishes it. It’s extremely docile. Furthermore, I wanted to briefly comment on Hunter’s tenderness when retrieving Omega’s new doll, most likely using it to track her recent movement. His hold is very gentle, considering he is now clinging to the last piece of Omega he has contact with, and a noticeable shred of panic holds his upper body rigid for good measure. It’s very nicely animated.

Coming ahead swiftly to the brief ‘positive’ interaction between Omega and Fennec, I haven’t seen this mentioned before but I personally see the discussion concerning the need for protection when travelling the galaxy as a small nod to Omega’s newly found connection to the boys, and Hunter specifically. Omega insists it’s a good thing she has her ‘friends’. Noticeably, she is still very hesitant to label them as her brothers, as she most likely feels excluded to an extent (bearing in mind the boys were raised together with the exclusion of Echo, no matter her previous ties to them, Omega was always going to feel isolated to some extent), but not enough to deny she has an attachment to them, and vice versa. Hunter has already shown on multiple occasions (Kamino, Saleucami, the moon from episode 3) that he would do whatever it takes to protect her, but it’s nice to see Omega’s perspective on the newly found emotions too.

Finally, Hunter is able to catch up to both Omega and Fennec, and the sudden change in his demeanour and her aura of innocence is extremely present here. Hunter drops the worrisome parental act fairly quickly, and it’s replaced with the familiar soldier we all know and recognise, he needs to exhibit such strengths to assert the extent he is willing to go to protect Omega. Equally, upon realising Fennec doesn’t quite have her best interest at heart, Omega wastes no time jumping (recklessly) into action to save both herself and Hunter anymore trouble. Of course, being a weightless little girl, she isn’t able to do much, and Hunter ends up in a physical altercation with Shand, where he actually ends up taking his eyes off the assassin to address Omega directly, insisting she run. This not only shows just how much he cares about her, but how desperate he was to ensure her safety by putting himself at risk by not only getting into a fight, but exposing a vulnerability by taking his eyes off of her. (Her worried little face as she flees too, poor girl 😔)

(This point doesn’t have much to do with the relationship between these two, so feel free to skip over it if you want, but I did want to briefly comment on Omega’s timid exterior as she runs to Wrecker in the maintenance tunnels. It truly helps to perceive her genuine age and immaturity, the way she cowers into his neck and sits in his arms especially.)

After Tech informs Hunter of Omega’s current predicament involving the maintenance tower, it’s easily noticeable that when questioning Tech’s information, his voice mirrors the exact tone and edge it held when berating both the former and Echo after their ship was impounded in Saleucami. To me, this shows a clear connotation between the dire situations, and how quickly Hunter has taken to his new role in Omega’s life, and his job as her primary carer. Not to mention, she is literally hanging mid-traffic lane, and in desperate need of assistance. Alongside this, we see previously in this episode that not only was Hunter worried about attracting unwanted attention, after receiving such a thing and accidentally allowing Omega to hang in the balance (pun unintended), he actually steals somebody’s hoverbike in an attempt to rescue the little one, seeming to not care he is attracting even more unwanted attention. There is no hesitation on his end.

The look of absolutely HORROR that crosses this man’s face as Omega drops from the tower and just about hits the hovertruck below. We haven’t seen a look like that cross Hunter’s features since Crosshair’s ‘betrayal’, another indication to his immense worry for the newest member of his family. Equally, this is mirrored by Omega’s wide eyed, petrified stare as she momentarily watches Fennec shoot straight for Hunter’s bike, realising both she and the closest thing she has to a parent are still in serious peril. We need to take into account that this little girl has never experienced something this grim before, and the internal panic is evident for both herself, and Hunter especially.

This brings us down to the “HUNTER!!” comment from Omega as she dangles from the hovertruck. I personally believe her first initial thoughts were not to warn Hunter of the oncoming Shand, but instead a desperation to cry out for help from her guardian. This escalated as she notices Fennec approaching, and her eyes even widen as she calls out for Hunter to watch out, giving further evidence that her first thoughts might not have correlated to her eventual dialogue. It’s also important to note that despite her incredibly tragic situation, Omega is still much more worried about Hunter’s predicament than her own.

(Slightly unimportant, but I love the way Hunter leans in to take Omega in his arm before Shand knocks him out of the way. It’s very parental.)

I never noticed this before, but as Hunter catches Omega’s hand and hauls her onto the bike, he actually scans her over briefly to check for any injuries, before insisting she hold on tight. Notice how his voice isn’t scolding or harsh, he’s very calm despite the dire situation, doing his best to remain neutral for Omega’s sake, especially considering the day she’s had. It’s also important to note that this is further improvement from the situation on Saleucami, another example of their ever-growing relationship.

The WAVE of relief that rolls from Hunter’s entire demeanour as he places the backpack down in the Marauder cockpit, knowing he can finally rest now that Omega is safe, while simultaneously anticipating the flurry of issues about to storm their already hectic lives with a bounty hunter after the kid. His eyes are exhausted, his shoulders are only slightly slacked to insinuate his rough exterior, and yet he still does his absolute best to comfort Omega as she begins to get upset over the prior events and the unknown future.

And, finally, a small action but important nonetheless. I noticed that Omega’s eyes quiver slightly as she begins to get upset, and in her final moments on screen, they direct towards Hunter. This may seem unimportant, but it provides further evidence to the notion that she seeks him out for protection specifically. She’s upset and frightened, so she looks to him because he protects her. It is set up as if she’s about to toss herself into his arms, because she needs him right now.

I hope you liked my analysis of Hunter and Omega’s relationship in episode four of The Bad Batch! Of course, I’d love to discuss these two with anybody who might be interested, so please feel free to drop me an ask or a DM, and if you’re captivated enough I’d totally recommend looking out for my future posts on the topic!

As always, much love to our ‘Megs and Hunter, thank you for reading! 💛

Part One: Aftermath

Part Two: Cut and Run

Part Three: Replacements

[gisellelx]

Hello! Love your blog and i wanna say

Your analysis and your posts in general are always so well researched historically. How do you do that and how can I do it too?

So I wanted to answer this with care and time and thoughtfully. I hope this answer will be good not just for you but will be worth reblogging for anyone who wants to think about how you develop good researching skills more generally. Because ultimately getting good at making sense of the world isn’t just about writing or just about fic or just about academia; it’s about being a good citizen of the world.  The short answer to this question, up front: I’ve gotten good at research because it’s my actual job! I’m a professor and not even a new one really anymore; I have a book of research coming out later this year which still feels really weird to say. I happen to know how old you are because we’ve chatted so don’t forget to put into perspective that before you started formal schooling I had already written my first 50+ page research work. I’ve been at this seriously for almost two decades now. However, there are some fundamental ways that professional researchers go about thinking about everything, whether it’s something as inconsequential as fic or as monumental as the stuff going on in the U.S. right now that I think are a little different, and they’re replicable in useful ways. So here’s three things that matter.  Get curious. This actually is pretty easy for fanfic writers because we already have something we’re curious about--whatever fandom(s) we’re in. But curiosity isn’t just about the spark; it’s also about getting interested in making connections between different kinds of things. When you encounter any given piece of information, the first thing you should start thinking about is “how does this piece of information fit in with everything else I already know” which will lead you to “how does it contradict what I already know” and “what else do I need to know to understand how this fits?” This leads you down really interesting rabbit holes.  An example from fic/tumblr answers: A witch hunting Anglican really doesn’t map on to what I know of Anglicans/Episcopalians in present-day. So then I start to ask, “Okay. What was actually going on in the church in the 1640s?” I’m going to mesh it with some of my own knowledge: I know the protestant reformation happened a hundred years earlier, but I don’t know a ton about what happened after, except that the Puritans arrived in New England eh, about that time. So I go down the rabbit hole of finding out about the church in the 1640s. At some point there I’m going to run across some of the secular history: that the 1640s was the English Civil War. Okay, what was the Civil War about? Who won? How long were they in control? Questions beget questions and true, at some point, you have to decide when to stop if it’s for writing. But honestly, if you’re curious, you probably won’t stop thinking about it even if you’ve found out enough to answer the thing you want to answer. Because you’ll 

Develop a lens. The thing you’re interested in becomes the way you start to see the world. Start relating everything to the thing you are trying to find out more about. Notice when you’re getting more information about that thing or when something would matter to that thing. I have an assignment I give my students where they have to write four short assignments relating stuff they see about language use to the things they’re learning in class. It’s partially to teach them about the concepts they’re learning, and partially to teach them about writing, but it’s mostly to accustom them to viewing the world through the lens I’m teaching them. It’s to help them get curious about why one barista’s tone sounds friendly and the other’s doesn’t even though the say the exact same thing. It’s mutually reinforcing: the lens begets curiosity and curiosity begets the development of the lens. If I encounter a fact, a piece of history, a moment in time, an old song, there’s a little piece of my brain after 11 years of writing Twific that is always asking “Where were the Cullens?” I have headcanons for days about how each of them, especially Carlisle, would’ve dealt with any individual moment in history. When I sing an old hymn in church I sometimes look down at the date in the hymnal to find out if it’s one Carlisle would’ve sung as a human. I’m always working through this lens, and that means I’m always adding to the knowledge. 

Finally, source well. Especially for something as fanciful as fic, there’s not a lot of reason to dive deep into academic tomes (although I have; I am a fucking nerd. See above re: my work.) But dive deeper than the first page of google. Read the first Wikipedia page you come to, but then read a couple of the pages it links to! If the English Civil War has to do with Cromwell and it established the Protectorate, and those things are linked? Well, read those, too! And then you might need to cross-reference--okay, now I know what the Protectorate was, and I’ve decided from that original go-round that Carlisle’s dad was probably a Puritan, not really an Anglican, so...what was the relationship of Puritans to the Protectorate? I’m going to next throw that into google. And I’m looking for high-quality sources: magazines, university websites, things that end with .edu or .gov. I’m clicking on the “about” to find out who wrote the thing and how much of an expert they are. If they say something that no one else has said and I can’t find anything that tells me they’re an expert in this? I’m going to disregard that info and move on. This is applicable to way more than just fic--this is about figuring out that as much as I go YEAH YEAH YEAH at some hyper-partisan trash website that fits my political view, I need to step back and consider where it’s coming from, who the author is, and how much they know.  The more you’ve sourced, the easier this gets. My knowledge on Carlisle’s history goes deep, I fell in love with him and only him when I read the series. I have read about popular culture when he was growing up, I have read histories of the English Church, I have spent time thinking about and being fascinated by the history of the development of medical knowledge and medical schools. I didn’t go to the Eye or Big Ben when I happened to be in London; I went to the City Museum and wandered around the part of the city where I imagine he lived, looking for things which have survived since the 17th century and taking note of things which are new to think about what Carlisle would think about them (he is very un-fond of the Gherkin.) I literally spent a day and a half looking at London through Carlisle’s eyes. Because I’m curious; because I have a lens; and because I’m going to grab good sources whenever I have them.  That is a SUPER long post. But I hope it’s helpful. When it comes to writing, the richer your knowledge, the more likely you are to drop the right detail which places your reader and makes them buy into everything else in the world. I remember reading a fic which took place in my hometown and the author had one of the Cullens flying in their private jet. In my hometown, a mid-sized city in the midwest, there is a commercial international airport, but there is also a smaller airfield which handles much of the private air traffic. That author had that Cullen plane take off from the smaller airfield. I don’t know if she is also from my hometown, but she got that detail right, and it signaled that I could trust the rest of her storytelling.  So. It’s worth it: to be a good writer, to be a good researcher, and just to be good at understanding the world. I hope that helps and sorry for the word vomit. Professors write a lot, too. 

[a-lil-perspective]

I don’t want to be that person—

But I really need to get this off my chest. This is the culmination of two months buildup of thoughts that have been screaming far too loud for me to continue simply taking in stride. I can’t do it. I apologize in advance, for anyone who actually reads this, if this is a deterrent to you about my character or my minuscule space taken up here on Tumblr. Again, I really can no longer remain silent. If it’s any solace:

I tried.

Where to begin. First off—as much as I’d love for this to be an update on the next chapter of Remember Me, it is not. For those of you who’ve kept up with the story, I’m sure you’ve noticed my uploading pattern these past few weeks has been reduced to solely weekends—and barely that, might I add. While I will try to have Chapter 9 up within the next few days, I cannot guarantee when. At this point in time, it’s not a lack of creative streak, it’s a lack of time. I have all these outlines and segments in my head but can’t seem to even catch a breath much less put the story down in my notes or in Word for later edit and upload. But I’m trying. I really am. As I’ve said before: I will finish this story, come hell or high water. But currently being engulfed in the former has been a huge burden.

Per my past psa’s: My health? Two giant thumbs down (nothing to do with COVID-19). Personal aspects? Two giant thumbs down. Both are and have been slowly corroding me. To avoid this post seemingly grabbing for sympathy, I’m going to just stop there with that. But I’m truly suffocating in this corner.

Next point in case: I’m going to be completely candid here. It’s extremely difficult and utterly exhausting to continue posting fics. Mentally and Emotionally. The pressure to post. The pressure to post because if you don’t in a timely manner, you lose your momentum and “fall behind” when you post again. Then you’re right back to square one thereafter because people have grown absent in your absence. It’s exhausting and stressful to spin in that wheel.

It’s difficult when you pour every drop of energy into a work, only for it to sit largely unnoticed on your blog. To stay up literally all night making sure your punctuation is impeccable, re-reading the same fic over and over before you post until your brain explodes and you utterly forsake the fic the minute you hit that post button. To take up space on a post tagging and adding those notes and engaging flares that go unrequited. It’s... well, it’s detrimental. It gets you down. It gets me down. I’m not going to lie about that. We all want validation and I will be the first to shoot my hand up in acknowledgement.

I’m going to stop right there as you’re reading to clarify: This is not a call-out post. This is not a guilt post. This is not me giving an ultimatum. This is not me demanding reblogs. This is not me telling you “your likes don’t matter” (I have literally seen that on posts and it kind of disgusts me. That’s all I’m going to say about that for now).

Reblogs, while unanimously appreciated, are not a priority to me. Comments and feedback and communication are invaluable to me. That’s it. That coveted and intimate interaction between the Writer and the Reader. One is not more important than the other. We’re a team, a unit, a force that balances each other on a broad, diverse scale.

I don’t ask for much—I don’t ask for anything here, actually (unless it’s directed towards the general audience over what y’all would like to see, which largely goes unengaged whenever I bring up). No, I don’t post fics that frequently. No, I don’t crank them out as quick. No, I don’t have that many. Yes, I’m new to fanfic writing. But I work quietly and solely with all my own plots and dialogues and ideas (I love prompts and requests, though). Thus my usually hefty works. Y’all get the whole nine yards. But I don’t feel like I really get to bounce my ideas around to others, which can further exacerbate that sense of isolation for me around here. I put myself through a really long process for every single thing I write because, the quality of my work matters to me. A lot. So I try to take my time to deliver that. And... I guess I just hope you know that or can discern that as you read each time.

Another astronomically exhausting aspect is this platform itself. It’s painfully evident to me, in my four meager months here, that Tumblr is just one big popularity contest. Who can upload the most, the fastest, the most efficiently. Who has the most followers. Who accumulates them the quickest. A place where your “exposure” is literally at the mercy of others. And when people purposely don’t want to aid in that, it spirals into this really toxic mindset causing friction between Writers and other Writers, causing unnecessary strain, avoidance, insecurities, and hinderances to YOUR precious work. And I’m not about that. It’s a no from me.

Also, I’ve just got to interject with this bit: Bad Batch Writers. Bad Batch Writers struggle. In my opinion, from what I’ve seen, it’s like if you aren’t writing for a popular Clone like Wolffe or Fives or Jesse, you don’t get traffic. Which I think is just... kind of corny. Okay. I think it’s really corny and ridiculous. Please know that I’m not saying anything bad about those Clone babies, the people who write them, or anything like that. Please don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m just making a point. Bad Batch does NOT get enough love. And the Writers ultimately suffer because of it. That’s all there.

We’re all supposed to be in this together. Your work—your writing—is neither good nor bad. There’s no such thing. There’s only YOUR writing; your unique, beautiful words that I LOVE more than anything, that only YOU speak. We all speak a different dialect and flow through our storytelling. And it’s a beautiful, wholesome thing. It always has been. It should never be this detrimental stage Tumblr has made for content creators. Let’s be honest: Tumblr is not the ideal place to thrive. And I’m just... sick of it.

I’m beyond an exhausted state. I can’t remember that last time I wasn’t. (I know everyone is, with the ebb and flow of our world’s daily uncertainties during these unprecedented times). But for me, personally, it’s getting increasingly harder to keep up with the reblogs and comments and blogs of all the stories I love, while updating my work and trying to interact on my blog, while battling my health and nonexistent energy, and constantly be exposed to the “Tumblr Tumbles”, as I call it—the overbearing popularity and the waiting and the wondering and the silent seething because of it. It’s just too much. And it doesn’t take a detective to pick up on that attitudinal shift around here. It’s all just one big, pernicious cycle. And seeing that here nearly every day, exhausts me. I don’t know how else to convey as much. But I just can’t do it. And honestly, I get this overwhelming loneliness just being here.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I’m going to continue doing my thing until my engine sputters out. I’m going to keep up with storytelling, because I love it more than anything. I just needed to get this off my chest. I’m just rambling. I might delete this but, I might not. Who knows.

I just... Geez. I need to know that I’m not just shouting into the void over here like always.

Communication to me is key. If you don’t want me to tag you anymore: tell me. If you don’t want me to message you: tell me. Please. Just don’t like me? Cool. Tell me. It’s better to know and communicate than to walk on eggshells around everyone and everything. I’ve applied that flawed strategy throughout my whole life and I strongly dislike doing so. It adds no benefit to either party. Just be honest with yourself and others. That’s always super important.

For those of you, my handful of regulars who are around... you know who you are. Thank you. My thanks is but a meager conveyance of my undying gratitude for you. But I want you to know how much I appreciate your presence here. Words cannot express.

@halzore... You are a real mate. You are an incredible being who is not only insightful but, a true muse here. I look to you as more than just a devoted Reader of mine, and you should know that I would NOT have gotten this far with my Bad Batch Post Order: 66 series—or any of my Bad Batch works, for that matter—without your encouraging words. Holy cow. You’re a dearest friend. Your writing, art, and musical talent leaves me in awe. (A truly brilliant mind, please go love her y’all). Thank you for seeing all the good, little things in me and my work. It makes this all worth it. You make it all worth it. I get really overwhelmed thinking about it. But I just want you to know I appreciate you so much.

To anyone who’s ever left me kind, encouraging, and wonderful comments... I remember them. I do. I think of them when I’m down, and I think of them now as I write this—which is in my dispirited state, ironically. But I appreciate it. I think it is so SO important to lift each other up with words. You don’t have to reblog and all that (only speaking for myself here). Just take a moment to say something kind to someone. It makes someone’s entire day, week, month, year. Please... love other Writers. Love yourself. We all struggle. But let’s do it together. Let’s be there for each other.

Come talk to me. I don’t bite, I promise. Tell me about your day. Tell me something about yourself. I care. I love that interaction, because you are MORE than just a Reader to me. You are a valued human being with feelings, desires, wants, needs... come share that with me. If there’s something you’d like to see in my future works, something that would engage you more; please, come tell me.

I’m going to try and get better. At writing, at navigating this strange place, with my health, with life. I’ve been at my breaking point for so long that my barely held together pieces and exposed, worn chinks are almost uneffected and unresponsive to any help or healing. But I’m going to try.

Thank you for being here. I’m sure it can be hard to have patience with me and my nonexistent uploading schedule, but, I do have several wips in the works (teases in my masterlist in case you’re wondering). They’ll come around. :’)

Keep your head up and shining, lovelies. And I’ll try to do the same.

[ochard-fics]

Bad Ideas - A Spider-man Story

Chapter Index: 1, 2

Pronouns used for (Y/N): they/them

Genre: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, fluff, young love

Warnings: None

Word count: +7.1k

Summary: Though  you moved across the country about half a year ago, you are still  trying to find your footing in the strange streets of New York. On top  of that, you are desperately trying to balance your demanding school  life at Midtown School of Science and Technology, where you like  everyone but you was much more talented and smarter than you could ever  imagine to be. Among those students is the one whom you loathe the most:  Peter Benjamin Parker, the boy who’s success both in school and in  Stark Industries is constantly shoved in your face. The only person who  helps you escape those troubles is Spider-man, the hero of Queens and  your crush.

A/N: Hello all! Thank you for waiting so patiently for the next chapter in the series. I hope you are all staying safe and healthy during these unfortunate times. Please enjoy this chapter! Comments, reblogs, likes and feedback is greatly appreciated!

A HUMONGOUS thank you to @tinybabyrat​ who helped me out while I wrote this!

---

Chapter 2 - Peter Parker, the nuisance

How did everything go south so fast? You thought your Tuesday was looking up. No major tests or quizzes today, no horrible mile run in P.E., and no over-cooked rice in the cafeteria lunch! However, the universe decided to say fuck you and here you were, sitting uncomfortably in your guidance councilor’s office. Ms. Lee was busy typing away at her computer, her thick, wavy black hair pulled back into a low ponytail. Your eyes began to wander around your surroundings, like the wall calendar pinned to the corkboard behind her, that showed Claude Monet’s Water Lilies painting for the month of February. Or the several post-it notes of various bright colors with reminders, and then photos of her and her wife, Ms. Narvaez, happily smiling together with their two rescue dogs Fritz and Sadie, who were mutts. Waiting in there started to feel like forever until Ms. Lee straightened her posture and turned her figure towards you, clasping her hands as she put her arms on her desk.

    “Hey kid,” she greeted you with a warm smile, “I can see that you want to know what you’re in my office.” You replied with a stiff nod, looking at her with meek eyes.

“I wanted to talk to you about your current progress in school, particularly your general education courses” she states, adjusting her square, wire-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose, “I need you to take a look for yourself.” She takes the frame of the monitor and it toward you, where you could see your current report card displayed upon the screen.

    “From the looks of it,” she says, looking over at the monitor, “Your grades have gone down significantly since you started your year here at MSST.” Oof, that was not good news whatsoever. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably as she continued speaking.

    “I have noticed that math and chemistry have been particularly difficult for you,” she mentions, “Is there a reason why?” You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs, a habit you had recently formed out of anxiety.

“W-well,” you stutter as your voice cracks, “I’ve always had a hard time with math. A-and chemistry has a lot of concepts about it that are hard for me to understand.” Which was true. Anything having to do with math you immediately panicked upon seeing. Math, to you, was a whole other language that you still couldn’t understand. Which was rich, considering you could speak four languages fluently. Chemistry was a lot like math and it even included it, so it was just another layer of confusion for you. 

 “I understand your frustration with the subjects,” she says with a nod, “You are not the only student here that struggles with them.” Yeah, you thought, like 12 kids out of the who knows how many here? This was a science and tech school for crying out loud; everyone around you was a prodigy! Well, except for Flash Thompson. “(Y/N),” Ms. Lee begins, “Do you know your current GPA*?” She looks up at you, to which you give her a shrug. 

“It’s currently a 2.78,” She says as she points to the top of the report card, where it was displayed, “It’s not a bad score. However, compared to your GPA from your previous school year it has dropped significantly.” You furrowed your brows, waiting to see where she was going with this.

Ms. Lee looks at you very seriously and says, “If your grades continue to decline, you could potentially fail your junior year, and will have to repeat.”  A lump formed in your throat upon this new information. Repeating a year of high school was up there with your biggest fears, along with heights and your dad. The mere idea of failing school started to make you internally panic.

Ms. Lee looks at you sympathetically, folding her hands upon her desk once again.

"I understand that moving across the country is incredibly difficult,” she starts, “You know that I'm from L.A. as well. I miss it dearly. All of my family and childhood friends reside there. I miss going to my favorite boba shops with my friends, I miss going to Malibu, and I even miss the forty-minute drives to go from one place to another! But oh boy, do I not miss the traffic." This made you chuckle, which brought a smile to her motherly face.

"However, I had to move here for college,” she continues, and you listened intently, “It was incredibly difficult for me to adjust to life here. Manhattan felt like a whole new world in comparison to Los Angeles. On top of that, I didn't know anyone here. I was alone, and the loneliness took a toll on my performance in school. Though you know what got me back up?" You shook your head in response. 

"I got help. With the suggestion of a councilor I made a study group with a few of my classmates so we could all assist one another. As time went by, they eventually became my closest friends throughout college, and Manhattan as a whole. Additionally, when I didn't understand something in class, I went to the teacher for clarification. If they could provide it, of course." 

"I will admit, it was incredibly hard for me to ask for academic aid," she looks down at her folded hands as she continues to reminisce about her past, "I grew up with this idea that I couldn’t do anything without my parent’s help. I depended on them to solve my problems and it damaged my self confidence. Then culminated this sense of guilt, because I felt like I was totally helpless. Though I tried to be self-sufficient, I was met with criticism because I would make mistakes. This led me to develop a perfectionism complex, and if I didn’t get something right on the first try I just gave up. It felt suffocating.” 

“From the information you have told me these past months,” she looks up at you, “You are in that current situation. You’re afraid to ask for help because you think of it as a sign of dependence. That you cannot do anything without help. Which is unfortunate, because help shouldn’t have to feel like a burden.” Shit, she was right on the ball. All your life your parents would hold your hand whether you liked it or not. And just like she experienced, when you tried to be independent and failed, it only confirmed to your parents that you couldn’t do anything without them. That’s why you felt guilt whenever you were offered help; it was because it made you feel weak. Then when you tried to grasp at something on your own, you’d slip, and you would get frustrated and surrender your attempts all together. It was exhausting.

“Speaking of your parents,” she glances over at the computer monitor and back at you, “Are they aware of your current grades?” You shook your head in response, looking back down at your twiddling thumbs.

“Haven’t shown them any of my assignments this year,” you replied honestly, “My dad used to check up on my work, and then instead of trying to help me with corrections he’d take over my homework and make sure it was perfect. I-I got fed up with him doing everything for me so I told him to stop. He got mad and told me to never go back to him if I needed help with school.”  Ms. Lee listened in intently as you spoke to her, which was what you really appreciated about her. She was like a therapist, very patient, and willing to listen to your troubles. Which was nice, considering that there was at least one adult in your life that was willing to listen to your troubles.

    “I think it was very mature of you to tell your dad that,” she assures you, “Especially considering what you’ve told me about him. You wanted him to help you, not enabling you. How else will you learn, but through making your own mistakes?” If only your dad could listen in to the conversation you two were having, maybe he’d finally realize that he’s been wrong. But knowing your dad, he’d probably call Ms. Lee a fraud of a councilor so mauve it was best that he wasn’t there.

“I know you want to be independent of him,” she continues, “Any child would want to break away from that type of environment. It’s a pity that your father cannot be more supportive of you and your endeavors. You’re incredibly talented, (Y/N).” The compliment was very sweet of her, but for some reason, you believed she was saying that just to be nice. You heard her let out a worn-out sigh.

“Look,” she starts, turning the monitor back to face her, “In order for you to get into the college of your choice, art or not, you need to get a 3.0 or higher.”

“I can’t afford art college,” you admitted, “My parents would never help me with it, either.”

“There are several colleges that aren’t art universities but have excellent art programs,” she replies, typing on her keyboard, “Many of them being in California. And they cost half the price.” You looked up as this greatly piqued your interest. She turns the screen back to you and you look up, looking at the list of public schools that were ranked the top ten best art programs in the country, the majority of them being, as she said, in your home state. Your eyes widened in interest.

“You’re a smart very kid,” Ms. Lee assures you, but you give her a look, “You are. And if you can pull your grades up to a 3.0 or higher, you can apply for scholarships from these schools.” Damn scholarships always feel like a carrot on a stick, taunting you with their possibilities. However, with the amount you were being paid by Delmar for your work, you wouldn’t have a chance at paying for your college of choice. A scholarship could save you big time, and without the guilt of being a burden on your parents.

“If you can get them up by the end of the semester,” Ms. Lee says, “You’ll be secured for a scholarship. Maybe even more than one.” You chewed the inside of your lip, contemplating this information. Damn it, it seemed too good to be true. Getting your grades back up was much harder than bombing them, which you thought was totally unfair. The GPA system felt like a whole scam.

“This means you need to, pardon my language, kick your ass into gear,” she says, making you smile at her profanity, “But because math and chemistry are the classes that are giving you the most trouble, you will require extra help with them.” You raised a brow at her, sensing that she was getting somewhere with this. What was she up to?

“I'll set you up with a tutor,” she reveals, turning to you, “And don’t worry, they’ll be someone from school so your parents won’t have to pull out any pocket money. Your eyes widened in shock. A tutor? Was she being serious?!

You opened your mouth to object but she continues, “I talked to Cobwell and we’ve found the perfect tutor for you. A classmate of yours, actually.”

“W-wait, can’t I get tutoring from Cobwell? Or do those group tutoring sessions that student resources hold?” you asked, the idea of one it being one of your classmates sounding much worse than the tutoring itself.

“We did consider that,” she says, “But Cobwell just got assigned to assist Harrington with the academic decathlon, and we believe that because of your current situation, one-on-one would work for you best focus-wise.” You slumped back in your chair. Maybe you should have taken up Cobwell’s help when you had the chance. Now, you were going to be stuck spending an hour or more on subjects you hate with a burning passion with someone you probably don’t like. Speaking of which, you asked Ms. Lee who they chose to be your tutor.

“Oh, glad you asked,” she said, giving you a smile, “It’s Peter Parker.” 

It took every inch of your body to hold the urge to scream. You did pray, though, that she was bluffing you. She had to be! But you saw no sign that she was fucking with you. You felt your body go into a cold sweat. You leaned toward Ms. Lee, horror in your eyes.

“Do you have anyone else but him?!” You cried, “Anyone?! I can not have him tutor me! Anyone but that loser!” Ms. Lee raises a brow at you, unamused by your reaction.

“Why not?” She asks, “He’s in all of your classes, as well as being the top student in math and chemistry.” You leaned back into the chair, letting a troubled and dramatic groan out.

“He’s a total numbskull!” you said exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “Flash Thompson will never let down that I’m going to be babysat by Parker.”

“You should be more concerned about your grades than your reputation, (Y/N),” Ms. Lee comments, making you purse your lips, “Additionally, I’m making the tutoring mandatory. So if I find out that you purposely ditch Parker, you will be penalized.” You frowned upon hearing this. Of all things you wanted to happen in your life, being forced to be in the same room as Peter Parker was the last thing you wanted. And you were going to get punished if you ignored him?! Not cool.

“Plus,” she continues, “If you give him a chance, you’ll see that you both have much more in common than you think.” This has to be some cruel prank, it just has to! If you found out that the Norse god of mischief Loki was behind this, you would make sure to find him and kick his ass all the way to another dimension.

“B-but,” you leaned towards her, eyes narrowing suspiciously, “What if he becomes negligent again? MJ told me what he did last year with the decathlon team.” She hums in response, leaning back on her chair.

“I assure you that Peter will not do such a thing,” she replies, “Actually, the other reason why we chose him as your tutor is that he has to complete community service hours due to his misbehavior last semester.

“I’m community service now?!” you exclaimed. How humiliating!  You dropped your head into your hands, letting out a dramatic groan.

“Look, I understand that you’re uncomfortable,” Ms. Lee says, sitting up in her chair, “But you deserve the help. And part of being independent is knowing when you need it. And you don’t have to feel ashamed to ask for it.” You looked up at her, seeing that she was watching you sincerely. You knew she meant well, it was her job, after all. Yet this was the worst possible situation you could've put it. Yet again, it is your fault for procrastinating assistance with school for this long. Still, you would’ve taken anyone but Parker as your tutor. Even Flash Thompson! You let out a huff and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to process all of this very unfortunate information.

“Peter is a nice kid,” she assures you, though you give her a look that says you think otherwise, “Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable with him, it’ll help him help you. ” She points at you, and though she wasn’t doing it you could almost feel her finger pressing down on your chest. You bit your bottom lip, feeling unsure. Opening up to other people has become much harder for you since the move, and it’ll be much harder in an academic setting. Now, you have to do it with a person you deeply despise. She really was asking too much out of you.

You let out another sigh and straightened yourself then asked her “How often do I have to meet with him?” Please just once a month, you begged in your head.

“At least twice a week,” she answers, “I would like for you to meet with him tomorrow after school. The sooner you guys work the quicker you can improve.” A low groan was let out of you, earning a frown from her.

“I’ll be meeting with Parker tomorrow morning,” she said, turning to type on the computer, “You both will be in charge of scheduling hours. If you do it right, it shouldn’t affect art club hours or your feeding times for the animals in the biology laboratory.” You pouted. Junior year was already very hard, and this just added to the difficulty of it all. Would this tutoring even work? 

“You’re a smart kid,” Ms. Lee says, “And I know you can do this. But you will need to be committed to this. Understand?”     “Yes ma’am,” you said, begrudgingly.

-

    The next day you arrived to class earlier than usual. The meeting with Ms. Lee gave you the thoughts of possibly failing school and having to work with the person you despised kept running through your thoughts, making it impossible to go to sleep. You noticed that the hall in which your locker was located had a speckle of people around, either chatting with their friends or just chilling by their lockers. You were leaning against yours, occupied with your phone as you watched yesterday's news on the touchscreen. You watched as the news anchor, the lady you had watched before at the bodega that there was yet another bodega stick-up that led to a fight between the robbers and Spider-man, this time in Hell’s Kitchen. The news cut to footage that showed him apprehending them, but took a few hits to the face and chest in the process. Your brows furrowed, worrying if he was okay since those hits looked pretty bad. He had mentioned to you before that he was able to heal quicker because of his powers, but you still couldn’t help but wonder if he was all right. 

    You heard your name being called out to you and you looked up to see Ned, who was approaching you with a wide smile spread across his face. Leaning away from your locker, you were about to give him a wave until you smelled something very putrid, making you cover your nose.

    “Hey there!” he says, greeting you, “Have you seen Peter? I gotta give him his backpack.” He then held up a black and blue backpack, and you realized where the smell came from.

    “Oh my god,” you said, scrunching your face, “Why the hell does that smell so bad?”

    “Oh,” Ned looked at it, “I found it in a dumpster. Peter lost it.”

    “How the hell did he lose it?” you asked with a frown.

“Ah,” Ned shifts uncomfortably, “Pete’s a bit clumsy sometimes, heh…” His face said that it was something else, but the smell prevented you from pressing any further.

“Why the heck did you bring it to school?!” You asked him, “It’s stinking up the whole hall!” You weren’t wrong, students around you were looking at the both of you and frowning as they too tried to cover their noses from the stench. 

“Yeah,” Ned agrees, putting it down beside him, “I tried to put some spray-on air freshener on it but not even the smell of clean sheets could contain the scent of New York trash. Ned was a nice guy, but like Peter, he was also a bit goofy. Having enough of the smell, you turned to open your locker, where you rummaged through it until you found what you were looking for. Ned watched quizzically as you pulled out a beige-colored canvas tote bag. You turned and held it out to Ned.

“Take Peter’s supplies out of the backpack and put them in that,” you ordered Ned, who took the bag and looked at it in awe, “I have it as a backup in case I had paint spill in my backpack.”

“This is so cool!” Ned exclaims, holding up to his face,  “And it even has a zipper in the opening! Did you make this?” You nodded. Last year you had taken a sewing class and had made a handful of items, tote bags being one of them. You had decided to make a few of them, some in which you gave as gifts to your friends and some that you made out of commission for your mom’s friends. Sewing, oddly enough, was something that you were pretty good at.

“Don’t tell Peter that I made it,” you said sternly, “Nor that I gave this to him. I don’t want him to know I did something nice.” Ned raised a brow at you but didn’t object.

“B-besides,” you added, motioning your head towards Peter’s backpack “I don’t want to smell that thing any longer.” 

“Oh, right,” Ned said, unzipping the backpack, “I should probably throw this out. Sucks, ‘cuz he only got this two weeks ago.”

“Peter seems pretty careless,” You commented to Ned, watching him take out Peter’s supplies and putting them in the canvas bag.

“Nah,” Ned replies with a shrug, “He was much worse last year. He lost five backpacks within two months! At one point his aunt May threatened to let him go to school without one.” you furrowed your brows, concerned. What was Ms. Lee thinking!? 

“And he’s going to be in charge of tutoring me?” you thought out loud, “I can’t believe this.”

“Peter’s going to tutor you?” Ned looks up, surprised. You told him about your meeting with Ms. Lee yesterday, explaining the whole situation. He listened, then nodded as you finished wrapping the story up.

“Well, I think you’re in good hands,” Ned reassures you, “Peter can be a doofus but he’s the smartest person I know. You’ll be passing in no time!” And speaking of the devil, you noticed from the corner of your eye that Peter Parker himself was jogging up to the two of you. As he approached, you noticed that his lip has a pretty nasty cut on it. 

“Whoa, what the hell is up with that?” You exclaimed, pointing to your lip to mirror where the injury was on his face, “Did you get mugged or something?”

“Uh,” Peter looked over at Ned, who shifted his eyes at you, “Y-yeah! You know how aggressive New Yorkers are!” He says, then lets out a nervous chuckle. 

“Right,” you said, narrowing your eyes at his suspicious behavior, “Did they take anything?” Before Peter could respond, Ned jumped in.

“His backpack!” he answers for him loudly, holding up the smelly bag yet again, causing both you and Peter to wince from the smell, “I found your backpack, Pete! The ones the muggers took! In the dumpster! What a coincidence! Haha!” Why on earth were these two acting so suspicious? They weren’t telling you something, though you wondered what was so secretive that they were trying to hide it from you? Then, you remembered something that MJ had mentioned to you the other day.

“Wait,” you raised a brow at the both of them, “Weren’t you guys hanging out yesterday? MJ told me you guys were going to the video game store in Hell’s Kitchen. You didn’t get mugged, Ned.” A look of panic plastered upon both of the boy's faces, and they exchanged looks with each other.

“T-the mugging happened when I was going home!” Peter stutters, his voice becoming higher, something you noticed he does when he’s nervous. Or lying.

“Y-yeah!” Ned says, nodding, “A-and I just happened to come across his backpack on my way back home!” This wasn’t the first time that they have acted like this with you before. One time they were like this with you while you were working at the bodega, where Peter had a pretty nasty black eye, and another time was when you caught Ned helping Peter skip the academic decathlon due to the Stark Internship, where the next day he had bruises on his knuckles. Dude seemed to get bruised up quite often, now that you thought about it. Before you could press any further with the two, Peter noticed the canvas bag.

“What’s that for?” Peter asks, pointing to it. Ned holds it out to him, telling him that his supplies are in there now.

“This is really nice!” Peter exclaims, taking the bag with excitement. You avert your eyes to the side as he asks his friend “Did you just have this with you, Ned?”

“Uh,” Ned turned to you, and you looked over at him. You better not tell him, you thought as your eyes met. Ned looks over to Peter.

“Yeah!” he replies, looking back to his pal, “It was just sitting in my locker. Luckily I had it on me today at this exact time.” He lets out another nervous laugh. 

“I actually really like the look of it,” Peter says, admiring the bag, “I might use this as my book bag from now on.” That actually caught you by surprise. Did he like it that much? Hm, better not get careless with it, then you thought to yourself. Peter seems to then remember something, turning to you.

“Oh, (Y/N),” He starts, pulling the canvas bag through his arm and up to his shoulder, “I actually just met with Ms. Lee. She told me about the whole tutoring. thing.” You internally groaned. It was evident that you two would talk about that today, but not this early.

“She said she wanted us to meet today, right?” he asks, “Would it be okay if I could have your number?” You raised a brow at him. What the hell was he getting at?

“Why?” you asked, frowning.

“Oh,” He rubbed the back of his neck, “S-since we’re going to be working together it would be good if we had each other’s numbers. For scheduling and whatnot.” You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth. For long enough you’ve avoided having to have contact with this guy after school. Now, you would no longer be blessed with that privilege.

“Fine,” you said, begrudgingly. You swung your backpack to your chest and opened it, rummaging through it for your pencil pack. You found it and pulled a blue ballpoint pen from it, then swung it to the back once again

“Gimme your arm,” you said holding your hand out. He then held his arm close to his chest, giving you a wide-eyed, confused expression.

“W-why?” He asked. You gave him a look.

“I’d rather write it on your arm than a piece of paper so you don’t lose it,” you replied, “Once I gave my number to the president of the art club and she lost the paper, and then Flash found it and wouldn’t stop airdropping terrible memes from 2006.” That was the most annoying day of your life. You had to ask MJ to threaten him to stop because even when you blocked him he kept finding a way to send you stupid memes. 

To this, he shrugged, understanding your reasoning. He pulled his blue sweater sleeve down to reveal his forearm, which you noticed was actually kind of fit. You moved it closer to him, grabbing his bare forearm gently and pulled it closer to you so you could write your cell phone number. You scribbled it horizontally, then once you were finished you pulled his sleeve down to cover it. The first warning bell of the day rings throughout the school, and you could see now that the hall was full of students, who began to shuffle past each other to get to their first-period class. The boys and you turned to look at each other.

“I’ll text you after school?” Peter says.

“Yeah,” you said, pulling your backpack straps up to your shoulder, “Let’s get to class.”

-

    For the rest of the day, you were dreading the eventual meeting with Peter. During all of your classes together you desperately avoided talking to him as much as possible because you were so pissed at the idea of having to work with him. However, as the end of the school day wrapped up, you could not avoid him any longer. As you walked to your locker, you felt your phone vibrate and pulled it out of the pocket of your yellow windbreaker and saw that you received a text from an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Peter! it read, Let’s meet in the library. You let off a small huff and typed back k. You shoved your phone back into the pocket and trudged your way over to the library. Upon entering, you noticed that it was a bit crowded today but still remained moderately quiet (as libraries should be). Several students were huddled by the study tables, hunched over intently scribbling notes while others were at the computers, doing research for papers, or watching youtube videos. You scanned around for an empty study table that both you and Peter could occupy until you spotted one near the graphic novels section. You made your way over to it, plopping your backpack on one of the chairs to save for Peter. 

Deciding to kill some time, you unzipped your red backpack and pulled out your sketchbook and pencil pack. Grabbing your mechanical pencil from the orange pouch, you flipped through your rugged hard-bound sketchbook to a blank page, where you then began to draw. You started to sketch those around you, like one student who was pretending to study but he was really watching Netflix on his phone, a girl that was coding on one of the computers, and the librarian, Mr. Fill. Soon you transitioned to drawing animals from the biology lab, like a starfish from the biology lab’s man-made tide pool, a garden eel named Pickles, the pink zebra beauty tarantula Zelda, and the corn snake Sir Elote II. 

You then felt your mind drift and began to draw Spider-man, whom you’ve doodled more times than you can count. If anyone were to look through your sketchbook (which you let few do), they would find several pages full of sketches of the blue and red hero of Queens. To you, it was genuinely embarrassing how much you drew him. It was hard not to think about him when you had such a hard crush on him. You wondered what he would say if he knew you were drawing all of this fanart of him.

    “Ooh, nice eel!” You heard a voice whisper to you. You looked up and saw Peter, who was looming over you as you drew in your sketchbook, making you jump a bit.

    He takes your backpack from the chair beside you and sets it down beside you, then asks, “Does it have a name?” 

“No…?” you answered as you watched him sit down beside you.

    “Well,” he makes a goofy smile, “If you name it, its name should be Eel-i,” A silence hung over you as you looked at him, giving him the blankest look you have ever given anyone.

    “G-get it?” his voice quivers, his smile wavering from your lack of response, “Like Eli?”

    “I did,” you responded with a deadpan tone, “But that was probably the worst joke I have ever heard. And I work for a middle-aged dad.” His mouth pursed into a tight line and his ears went red, embarrassed at his horrible attempt of lightening the mood. 

    “So,” you let out a sigh, “have you ever tutored someone before?”     “Nope,” he says, shaking his head in response as he tucked himself into the table, “What about you? Have you been tutored before?” You nodded in response. Back home you used to have a tutor in grade and middle school, who was actually your favorite teacher in the third grade. However, because of your dad seeing tutoring as a waste of money, you were forced to stop sessions when you went to high school, where he took on as a tutor. However, with your dad’s lack of patience, tutoring turned into a session in which he would criticize how slowly you understood the topics you were going over. At one point, it became too much for you, and you stopped asking for help with school-related subjects altogether.

    “Great!” he exclaims, but in a controlled whisper as to not disrupt the students around him, “One of us has experience with this! So, I guess we should just go over what you’re having a hard time with.”

    “Alright,” You put your elbow on the table and rested your head on the palm of your head, looking over at Peter, “Which subject are we talking about? Math or chemistry?”

“Uh,” Peter furrowed his brows in thought, “Chemistry? Since we had that quiz a couple of days ago.” 

“I have a hard time with all of it.” You replied. 

He blinks, a bit unsure of what to say. “U-uh, What do you mean by that?”

“It means what it means. I have a hard time with all of it. That’s why I’m in this position in the first place.”

“W-well, what part of the quiz did you have a hard time with? Maybe we can go over that today?” 

“Hm,” you rubbed your chin in thought, digging into your brain trying to remember what was on that quiz since you tried to block it out of your memory. You thought for a few more seconds until you remembered something, then looked up at Peter and replied, “Well, bond energy got very confusing.”

“Great!” Peter exclaims, his eyes lighting up, “I mean, it’s not great that it was confusing for you, but great in the sense that we can start looking at that today.”

And so you did. Peter opened up the chemistry textbook and began to re-teach chemical bonds to you, despite both of you learning about them last week in class. Ten minutes in, you were able to pay some attention to what he was saying. However, twenty minutes in you started feeling your focus float away. You tried to grab at it like a piece of paper floating away in the wing, yet everything Peter was saying just went over your head. It didn’t really help that he kept saying “Right?” after stating something (“It depends on strength and interactions between cations and anions in lattice, right?”), and you just nodded in response even though you had no idea what the hell he was talking about. Thirty minutes passed and your focus completely turned off, and suddenly you could hear the sounds of keyboards being typed on, the scribbling of pens, and, oh shit, is that a fly in the library? Your focus had gone to anything else but Peter, who took notice when you wouldn’t respond to a question he asked you. 

“Hey,” he turns to you with a concerned look in his hooded eyes, “You doing okay?” He put his hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your daze.

“I-,” you looked over but averted your eyes away from him. You felt face heating up from embarrassment. Darn it, what’s wrong with you? Why was focusing on something such a task?!

“How about we take a break?” Peter suggests, closing the chemistry textbook and getting up and stretching his arms, “I’m going to grab something from the vending machine. Do you want anything?” You shook your head in response, then watched as he grabbed his wallet from the tote bag and headed out of the library. You let out a frustrated groan, which was a little too loud because it earned you a hush from Mr. Fill who just happened to pass by. You put your head in your hands, letting out a huff, and tried to figure out what was causing you to be like this right now.

As you thought back to the last thirty minutes, you realized that Peter was the one making the session so agonizingly dreadful. It felt like you were back in chemistry class all over again, and no offense to Mr. Cobwell but that wasn’t the most interesting class to you. Contemplating on everything that Peter was doing wrong, you also noted other faults such as his pacing while he , his assumption that you understand what he’s talking about, and his mundane voice that he used when he was explaining everything to you, making you want to fall asleep. You pressed your nails into your pals, newly-made fists shaking as your frustration with Parker grew. It wasn’t your fault that you couldn’t keep up! It was his fault for being so bad at teaching you! You looked up and saw that Peter had returned, two water bottles in each hand. 

He approached you and set one bottle in front of you, saying “Thought you might be thirsty,” He got you a water bottle from the vending machine? Huh...that’s odd, you think.

Without saying a word, you looked down at your insulated water bottle that was tucked in one of the side-pockets of your backpack. He followed your eyes and noticed this, and his eyes widened with realization. He whispered an “Oh” to himself, but you turned back to the plastic one and took it out of courtesy, saying you could use it as a refill as you placed it in your backpack. He apologizes and sits back down in his chair. You give him a hollow thank you, to which he seems pretty pleased by. 

“Okay,” he begins with a nod, re-opening the textbook and turning to the chapter you guys were just going over, “U-um, was there something that you needed some clarification on?” All of it, you thought, but you felt like that would’ve not been the least bit helpful to him. Wanting to protect your ego and get the hell out of here, you just pointed to a random section on the page that read Hybrid orbitals. He looked to where you pointed and nodded.

He says, grabbing his pencil, “Let’s go over that again.” You held the urge to let out a groan. Time to suffer more! However, about twenty-five minutes in and you grew incredibly bored with Peter’s dull rambling. Your mind checked out and instead of paying attention, you began drawing circles instead of taking notes in your notebook, to which Peter noticed.

He put his pencil down and turned to you, asking “Hey (Y/N), You listening?” You jumped in surprise, looking up to see him catching you in the act. Without thinking you nodded, but he made an expression that thought otherwise.

“Right,” he then points with his pencil to a diagram on the textbook page, “Can you explain to me what this is?” You gazed down at what he was referring to, and your mind went blank. What on earth were you guys talking about again? The lack of sleep from last night had made you loopy and exhausted earlier than usual, making it hard to think straight. You tried your hardest to think of what the hell that could possibly be, but you couldn’t think of anything for the life of you. 

“It’s...a bond?” you answered, looking up at him sheepishly.

“Okay…” he leaned forward a bit, “But...what kind of bond?”

“A…” You looked back at the diagram, then back at him, “Chemical one?”

“Yes,” he replied, but you could tell he was trying to get more out of you, “But it’s a special kind of chemical one. It’s a…?”

“Very special chemical bond,” you replied without thinking, and you wanted to kick yourself in the head for such a dumb answer. Peter blinks at you blankly. 

“It’s a hybridized orbital,” he responds, “You weren’t paying attention.” You felt your face heat up. It’s one thing to not be paying attention a, but getting caught was so much worse

“S-sorry,” you said shyly, hunching over out of habit, “B-but it’s not my fault this stuff is so boring!”

“I get that it’s difficult to understand,” Peter assures you, leaning back in his chair, “But when something seems confusing, you need to tell me at the moment.” You frowned at him. Who was he to tell you what you do?

“Well sorry,” you sarcastically say as you crossed your arms in a huff, “It’s a bit difficult when the person you’re listening to is incredibly mundane.” 

“Excuse me?” He turns to you, annoyed, “I asked you several times if you understood what we were talking about.”

“Yeah, but you kept assuming that I knew what you were blabbering about. You were going too fast, too. Not my fault I can’t keep up with you.” 

“Then you should’ve told me to slow down!” he exclaims irritably, “I’m here to help you, not confuse you.” You let out a sarcastic laugh and. What was his problem?! Why was he getting annoyed at you? It’s not your fault you were telling the truth! He just can’t take criticism.

“Well, some help you are.” You looked over at him, “Can’t believe the smartest kid in our grade can’t figure out how to teach someone.” He clenched his jaw.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says, trying to control his current aggravation, “But in order for me to help you, I need your feedback. If you had just said something-”

“You want feedback?” You raised your voice and turned to him, cutting him off, “I’ll give to you feedback! You’re boring to listen to, you have the talking pace of the Roadrunner, and you have the personality of a stalk of celery. You’re built like one, too.” Students around you began to stop what they were doing and watch the two of you make a scene in the library.

“What the hell is your problem with me?!” he asks irritably, “I’ve been trying to be nice to you since you got here, but all you do is treat me like shit. Even when I’m doing nothing you act maliciously towards me! What have I done to piss you off so much?” 

“You exist.” you spit out angrily. A heavy silence hung over the both of you as you stared daggers at each other, the students around you holding their breaths in anticipating. However, you had enough of his stupidity, so you grabbed your notebook and backpack and stormed out of the library, ignoring the looks and whispers you were receiving from the students that were observing you. As you exited the room, you reached for your phone to text your mom that you were heading home. As you pulled it out of your pocket, it slipped from your fingers and bounced three times onto the school’s hallway until it ended with a cracking sound. You felt your heart clench in fear and rushed to go pick it up. A spew of cusses left your mouth as you saw three cracks upon the screen.

------

Annotations

*=GPA stands for Grade Point Average

[ryuukia]

[Translation] SolidS Drama Vol.5 “One faithful day, I saw you laughing under the starry sky” Track 3

Now that online courses have become a thing worldwide, I have more time to translate. I have to say, this track gets rather emotional towards the end and I was even considering posting the audio together with the translation, but decided not to (the bgm is increasing the pain). I still recommend listening to the CD while reading this, it makes everything feel more natural and vivid.

Many thanks to Ryota for helping me proof this.

Please don’t repost/retranslate/reuse my translations. Likes and reblogs are appreciated.

Track 3: Gloomy

Eichi: Well then, I’ll head back. It seems Issei and Icchi have also returned.

Rikka: Give them my regards.

Eichi: Okay, I’ll let them know! And once again, good job today! You were really cool.

Rikka: Thanks.

Eichi: Feel free to tag along in our common room. I’m sure the others would be happy. Ah, I’ll leave the walking coaching in your hands too!

Rikka: Roger. Talk to you later then!

Eichi: Okay, laters!

-the two separate-

Rikka: I’m back!

Tsubasa: Oh, welcome back, Rikka!

Rikka: I’m back, Tsubasa. 

Tsubasa: Good job with the shooting! That finished surprisingly fast. I thought it would take longer. 

Rikka: We advanced pretty smoothly. Want to see the results together?

Tsubasa: Oh! Show me, show me!

Rikka: Uhh -taps-... Here it is.

Tsubasa: Let’s see~. Whoa, how nice! You look so pretty! It’s not really the kind of style SolidS would lean on.

Rikka: I tend to shoot a lot of simpler poses when I do photoshoots alone. Women’s magazines seem to prefer off-shot casual portraits. 

Tsubasa: Dai-chan and Eichi went to the studio to watch the shoot, right? How nice~! I wanted to tag along too~. Oh, when is the magazine going to be released? Let me know later, I want to mark it on the calendar. I won’t forget to check it out!

Rikka: You don’t really need to go and buy it, we’ll be receiving a sample anyway.

Tsubasa: What are you saying? It’s a lot better to go and buy it for myself especially when I’m excited about it~!

Rikka: Really~ You’ve always been good at knowing what to say to cheer me up, huh~ Should I brew some tea? I brought some souvenirs with me.

Tsubasa: Oh! Lucky me~! Just when I thought I was hungry. What did you buy?

Rikka: This. Daifuku with beans. 

Tsubasa: Oh, Japanese sweets. That sure is unusual.

Rikka: They’re really delicious. I’m sure you’re going to like them.

Tsubasa: Hearing you say that makes me want to eat them immediately! But… maybe it’s better to wait until Dai-chan gets back… But stilllll…

Rikka: Eh? Dai’s not back yet?

Tsubasa: Yeah. I called him earlier. He said something about going out to a bouldering gym for a bit.

Rikka: Eh? How nice…I want to go too…

Tsubasa: I told him the same thing and he answered “Don’t.”, then ended the call. 

Rikka: -chuckles- He’s probably shy. He must have started going there recently. 

Tsubasa: I'm sure that Dai-chan falling is gonna be cute, too!

Rikka: -laughs- I guess he won’t let you come because you’d say that. And now all this talking made me hungry too. 

Tsubasa: Alright! Let’s dig in then! Dai-chan will have to bear our bragging when he’s back!

Rikka: Okay! Wait for a second.

-Rikka goes to the kitchen-

Rikka: What were your plans for today, Tsubasa?

Tsubasa: I came home pretty late yesterday, but I’m off today. I woke up in the afternoon and spent the rest of my day checking interview articles. 

Rikka: What’s the point of your day-off then?

Tsubasa: I’ve been so busy with things I need to finish lately that Fumi-chan grinned from ear to ear while scolding me. He made me promise not to go out today.

Rikka: He probably… won’t let you out until you’re done with it.

Tsubasa: Exactly! Ah, but I’m sure that this’ll definitely take a while. What about Rikka? When do you do your work?

Rikka: If I can’t find enough time to do all of them, I tend to spend 10 minutes or so doing what I have to before I sleep.

Tsubasa: Wha, how efficient! Though I’m the type who likes to finish everything in one go.

-Rikka places the tea on the table-

Rikka: That part of you's just like Shiki, Tsubasa.

Tsubasa: Eeh, don’t put us in the same boat!

Rikka: I completely meant it as a compliment though...

Tsubasa: That didn’t feel like a praise at all.

Tsubasa: Speaking of Shiki, hasn’t he been kind of strange lately? I haven’t seen his face once today. What is he doing?

Rikka: Right. I don’t know. Work’s been keeping me out of the dorm, so I didn’t really get the chance to see him. Here, your tea.

Tsubasa: Wha, thank you~! Mmmm, it’s delicious!

Rikka: I’ve been going to his room daily to check on him in the morning and evening. 

Tsubasa: Ooh, Rikka is so nice! Thanks for the food!

-Tsubasa tries the daifuku-

Tsubasa: HM!? What’s this!? It’s amazing! So good!!

Rikka: Right?

Tsubasa, munching: By any chance, is this one here with the fresh cream meant to be for Shiki?

Rikka: Well… more or less.

Tsubasa: Really, you’re so nice, Rikka. And too soft on Shiki. Soft just like the fresh cream.  

Rikka: Eeh, is that so?

Tsubasa: It is! You shouldn’t mind him much, y’know? He’s a masochist who loves to drive himself into a corner when it comes to music. Just let him live his jungle life on the Amazon until he’s satisfied.

Rikka: The Amazonian jungle you say…

Tsubasa: I can’t say my own room is super clean, but the way his bedroom looks right before a deadline is simply frightening. So yeah, the Amazon. Plus, Shiki’s the type who’ll clean up on his own if he wants to without us complaining about it. That’s why, fussing about him is sorta pointless in my opinion..

Rikka: …You completely get him now, huh. Even though you fought all the time in the beginning...

Tsubasa: Pretty much. But it’s not like I’m completely going soft on him, okay? If he ever sulks or decides to ignore us, I’ll make sure to knock him back to his senses.

-the door is closed in the background-

Tsubasa: Oh, Dai-chan’s back. 

Dai: I’m back. 

Haiduki: Hello, sorry to disturb.

Rikka: Haiduki-san!

Dai: He picked me up by chance.

Haiduki: I was waiting at the traffic light and I saw a familiar figure. That was a surprise.

Dai: Gotta say though, noticing me just by seeing my back is amazing.

Haiduki: Any capable manager would be able to do that. Ah, tell me more about this bouldering thing after this. 

Dai: That’s fine by me. It got me pretty addicted.

Tsubasa: Oh, so mean! I want to hear about it too!

Dai: You’re too annoying, no way.

Tsubasa: Eh, Dai-chan…

Haiduki: Ah, right. I got a call thanking me for the photoshoot you had today, Rikka. 

Rikka: The arrangements were well done and things went smoothly on the set. The staff also praised Haiduki-san a lot.

Haiduki: I’m glad to hear that. The results made all my adjustments worth it then. That magazine’s surveys got good reactions, so I wish to continue working with them if possible.

Rikka: In that case I hope I can surpass the editors’ enthusiasm.

Tsubasa: Anyway, you came at a good moment, Fumi-chan. We’ve got some delicious daifuku brought home by Rikka here~

Haiduki: Oh, that sounds good. I’ll enjoy them while checking your progress, Tsubasa.

Tsubasa: Half of them were already done, so ever since I woke up I’ve been checking the articles like I promised!!

Haiduki: I’m relieved to hear that. As expected, you’re always ready to walk the talk, Tsubasa. But before that, there’s one more job I need to finish.

Tsubasa: What job?

Dai: The one Shiki’s working on.

Rikka: If that’s the case, may I come with you? I want to bring him some refreshments and check up on him.

Haiduki: Eh? Uhhh... okay. Let’s go together then.

Rikka: -knocks on the door- Shiki, can I come in?

-no answer-

-the door opens-

Shiki: Rikka? Sorry, but-

Shiki: Why are you here?

Haiduki: How are things going? You don’t need to glare at me like that. 

Shiki: Don’t use Rikka as a pretext to enter my room. Sigh. I said I wanted to focus.

Rikka: You’re wrong, Shiki. I asked Haiduki-san to let me come with him. I wouldn’t be able to see your face even once per day otherwise. I wanted to check up on you.

Shiki: I see. Sorry for making you worry.

Rikka: If you’re aware of that, then show your face in the common room from time to time at least. Here, I bought some daifuku. It’s delicious.

Shiki: You’re right. Thank you. So, Haiduki. Care to tell me why you came?

Haiduki: How mean. Do I need a reason to show up? I was around anyway, so I decided to pay you a visit.

Shiki: Don’t make me laugh. You didn't strike me as a worrywart type. I told you this whenever you called or came here to persuade me and I’ll say it again. This time I can’t forgive myself if I give up on this.

Haiduki: This time, huh.

Shiki: If you’re not satisfied with this, go ahead and reconsider it. Anyway, this is my final decision.

Haiduki: I get it, I get it. You don’t need to get so serious. I’ve been thinking of ways for how to break through this, so let’s talk about it constructively and realistically.

Shiki: Sigh. …...Rikka. Sorry, but could you leave Haiduki and me alone for a bit?

Rikka: Eh… sure. Of course. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. Go ahead.

Haiduki: It seems like it’s not progressing as much as he thought so he doesn’t have much time to relax, is all. It’s nothing bad, so leave the rest to me.

Shiki: Don’t say anything more than necessary, Haiduki.

Haiduki: I get it. See you later then.

-Rikka leaves Shiki’s room-

Tsubasa: Oh, Rikka! Welcome back. How did it go?

Rikka: I... gave him the daifuku.

Dai: Not that, how’s Shiki?

Rikka: Ah, right. He won’t say anything more than usual.

Dai: That’s strange. Shiki’s always been the type to do what he wanted even though people were worrying over him.

Tsubasa: Can’t be helped I guess. I wonder what our mighty leader is so stuck on this time. 

Rikka: Who knows. I was chased away in the middle of the conversation. I don’t really get it…

Rikka: ...Ugh, that’s not it!

-Rikka throws himself on the sofa-

Rikka: Agh, seriously! I’m such an idiot!

Tsubasa: Eeh? What happened?

Dai: Why are you tumbling?

Rikka: I’m just…...mad at myself. 

Tsubasa, whispering: Hey, Dai-chan. Did Rikka ever tumble in self-loathing before?

Dai: Who knows.

Rikka: I feel like that was a bad way to phrase it… I hate it.

Rikka: Maybe I’m just tired…

Tsubasa: Of course, you’d be! You’ve been working since this morning.

Rikka: But right now… I’m...

Dai: I don’t really get what’s going on, but maybe you should eat the daifuku for now.

Tsubasa: Let’s do that! I’ll pour the tea.

Rikka: Mm…...Thank you…

-Tsubasa pours tea-

Tsubasa: Okay, Rikka. Sorry to make you wait. -hands the cup to Rikka-

Tsubasa: Alright. Rikka’s finally feeling tired again.

Dai: Jeez. If you’re feeling that down, you should rant a little if you want to, you know?

Rikka: Sorry… I must be gloomy.

Dai: I wouldn’t really call that ‘gloomy’.

Tsubasa: Right? But honestly, I feel relieved.

Rikka: Why?

Tsubasa: You’re always smiling, calm and gentle, but there’s no way such a perfect human can exist. Plus, everyone’s got something in them that they don’t like.

Dai: Like how Tsubasa’s always noisy and causing uproars.

Tsubasa: Exactly! Also hey, Dai-chan!

Dai: Being exhausted isn’t really surprising. It’s something normal to want to vent out your feelings. If we’re feeling gloomy, I’m sure you’ll comfort us, too.

Rikka: You’re right. Thank you, Dai. And Tsubasa too. 

-Rikka sits up and takes a sip from the tea-

Rikka: It’s delicious. Hot drinks really do heal you.

Tsubasa: I put in all my love. So, what did our mighty leader do to get you like this?

Rikka: Shiki didn’t do anything wrong…

Tsubasa: Then? What’s the problem?

Rikka: It’s just… uhm…I feel like I’m being narrow-minded...

Tsubasa: Aah, I think I got it. Let me guess: he ignored the daifuku despite knowing how worried you were for him, then started to talk about work with Fumi-chan, which got you bitter.

Rikka: Well, I guess… you could say that…

Rikka: Aagh… I’m seriously the worst! 

-Rikka buries his head into the sofa again-

Tsubasa: No, no, no! There’s nothing wrong with you, Rikka. Ughh, seriously. Aaaaaagh! I want to stuff Shiki’s throat with daifuku and curse him to 10 hours of sleep!

Dai: I think that’s more life-threatening than a curse.

Tsubasa: I mean, it doesn’t look like he’s gonna reflect on it without a few good hours on the pillow.

Rikka: It’s fine, really. Shiki’s not at fault. This kind of thing is normal for him. And Haiduki-san is our manager, so it’s something natural to consult him when it’s about work. There are conversations I’m not meant to hear anyway. I’m the one at fault for getting in the middle and turning gloomy on my own.

Rikka: But if I think about it, it’s always been that way. I’ve been fueling my own worries ever since our old days.

Tsubasa: Shiki’s been like that since the beginning?

Rikka: Can you even imagine Shiki not being the way he is now? 

Tsubasa: Ah, -laughs awkwardly- that’s kind of…

Dai: I can’t imagine that at all.

Rikka: Right? … He was the same back then. Though, I feel like I was the only one trying to get along with him...

If you like my work and you want to support me, you can now buy me a coffee by clicking right [here]. I also started taking commissions, more details are right [here]. Thank you~

[householdcat]

A previous reblogged post on commitment to the self made me think a lot about the spiritual ruin that came from trying to please others the past few years. I used to not have this problem, but I changed as I tried to move up in the world. Positions, letters of recommendations, networking, etc. It didn’t help that I noticed my default self didn’t work for people, so I adapted a persona and sold my soul. I was so unhappy and I hated everyone. Since I do it, it’s so disgustingly obvious in others, so I live in resentment and cynicism :/ God, a leadership position I had, I was constantly performing. At the same time, when I stood up for myself, or simply spoke my mind, I was a bitch, “too harsh”, and I wasn’t thinking of others. When it came to the team too, it was always my fault for triggering someone’s insecurity. And I’m being self aware. Contrary to the idea of radical self-accountability that you see circling around on ig graphics and what not, people’s reactions to you are not always your responsibility. I’m sick of managing people’s emotions... always having to understand... and someone feeling bad isn’t always because you’re in the wrong. Like seriously, I know it’s unpopular to think it, but we continue masking empathy and love tips that promote people pleasing. But god whenever I gave up the facade, the reactions were terrible. And my research lab was the worst of it. My PI was very abusive and I would be so emotionally distraught that at some point I would shake trying to do anything. Today actually, I was in a lab preparing a medication and my heart raced just even trying to get started. Because of what I went through, one outcome is I immobilize and have a great fear in my performance. I’ve been in a huge slump even though that was so long ago. Therapy to process these situations has not worked...introspection and searching for more answers has been hard. People say I’m too hard on myself (often true), but self-forgiveness and flowers ideology has also often made me lazy and passive in my life. We all plan and function differently. Healthy and emotional wellness is different for everyone and to define what it is definitely isn’t helpful. I sometimes struggle getting on with these mental health slogans and getting clouded by what wellness >should be<. My final thoughts are authenticity is hard to achieve in a society that needs to like you to allow you to survive and be fulfilled. As social beings, we can’t live at all without thinking of or being influenced by others. For now, pursuing authenticity to me means not betraying my values. That being justice, respect, etc. And only being able to show a few parts of yourself to adapt to the situation isn’t necessarily betraying your whole self. Ugh the inner warfare I’ve had has really sucked and I drown myself in distractions and work to make it to the next day. I was on campus today and traffic+commute gave me a lot to think about and I weirdly found myself crying during a song. I’ve been holding onto a lot. Healthcare role, life, and so on. Definitely a deep sadness in me as of now. I think talking about it again freely (not in therapy) may help again. I don’t remember the last time I actually wrote on my blog lol. Anyways I woke up from a 4 h? nap and it’s 3am but probs going back to sleep lol

[jamaisjoons]

i’m alive. you can stop worrying for a bit... i guess?? anyways, the bill hasn’t been signed yet, but there are a lot of people protesting calmly on the streets. there are pictures where the people are on their knees with signs and still observing social distancing with their masks on. i’m sorry i didn’t see your reply, i had to focus on trying to get into school because the first day of classes is a month away and i haven’t even paid the tuition yet. — poetic thought anon (1/??)

but yeah, all’s good. i’m just waiting here on the news of the bill, turns out even taylor swift was aware and posted a link. thanks for the reblog, i hate it when my national heroes spent their lives trying to achieve freedom for the country, only for the government to ruin it with some stupid anti-terrorism bill. and we have a concerning 20,000 cases of the virus but the government ain’t doing mass testing? i’m seriously disappointed. — poetic thought anon (2/2)

and also might i add that EDSA was literally the definition of traffic when i had to no choice but to go to school just to get some clarification from the admins (they didn’t even let us in, who knew). the tuition is literally 120K in PH currency (divide that by 50 and you’ll the equivalent in the US currency) but the education quality is the same as public schools so what makes it pricy?? smh. anyways, please stay safe, sweets. i’ll try to update you as often as i can — poetic thought anon

last one i’m serious: can i also add that our president is contradicting himself? when his term in the office started, he agreed to the Ambisyon 2040 wherein it will be a project that will help the Philippines to be a better place for everyone. there should be less poverty, and nearly all of the population is going to be in the middle class. fast forward to 4 years, that’s probably completely out of the picture now that this bill just needs his signature. — poetic thought anon

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

hello! oh my god its so good to hear from you! again, i hope you’re safe!! and please don’t worry about not responding to my replies! like that’s honestly the last thing you need to be worrying about right now. please focus on yourself and your real life because that is 100% more important right now.

honestly, you don’t have to thank me - i barely did anything but i sincerely hope the bill isn’t passed because its such a blatant disregard of basic human rights. also i can’t believe there are 20k cases and,,,, they’re focusing on this instead???? like jfc why are governments so fucking corrupt.

and god wait that education seems so ???? expensive ???? what im jfdneorfngeri i don’t even know what to say. and yes! i will! but honestly, i need you to stay safe - especially with whats happening in your country.

honestly,,, your president sounds like a corrupt politician just like every politician and im so sorry you’re going through this. and god that sucks again im really sorry i have nothing more than my words :( but even if its all i can do, if you need to vent or need someone to talk to, i’m here for you! please keep safe and update me whenever you can!! but also please take care of yourself

[babbushka]

Not really an ask. But as someone who writes things and publishes them on tumblr, is it interesting to see which of your fics people read and when? Like I'm pretty sure I just binge read all your kylo fluff fics and reblogged some, and I think that says a lot about which mental state people are in and when 🤭🤭 (just a psych dork here, sry) but I looooove all your fics and can't tell you how much they've helped during these hella weird times... your kylo fics literally make my days. ☺💕💕

Hello my dear anon! Thank you so much for these kind words, they mean a lot to me!

You know it’s so interesting but there’s this whole science behind like the “right time” to post something so it gets the most traffic. I don’t really follow those rules, and post whenever I feel like it lol, but it’s definitely something I know content creators keep in mind!

I’m a firm believer that the fics will be here for whenever people want to read them. Have I noticed a spike in my fluffy/soft fics? Yes, but is that surprising given the current circumstances? No not really. I think people seek out the content that they need, for whatever reason that may be. I’m just happy to provide what I can, so that whenever folks are in the mood, it’s there for them :)

[doublethetheories]

Show vs. Science: Exploding Hands?

Hey everyone, welcome to the (long awaited) Bakugou Science Bust!! In this post it’s less about theories and more about finding the scientific inconsistencies in Bakugou’s quirk and finding solutions in the form of mini-theories. The formatting is going along the top questions I had and the results I got. Also warning this ended up being ~1900 words long (before editing) so... yea. 

The conclusion is basically a compare and contrast of the Canon vs. Scientific Bakugou and what differences we end up with. Feel free to reblog with your own theories or reaction to this, since I really enjoy seeing your feedback.

Before getting into the science of it, let’s just recap what we know about Bakugou Katsuki. As explained in season 1, episode 7, his ‘exploding hands’ quirk stems from him sweating nitroglycerin and (somehow) being able to channel that into his explosions. Right off the bat, we already know the science will not allow him to use his quirk the way he does in the show where he uses mere ‘concentration’(?) to set off his explosions. So let’s get into the specifics of his limitations.

Could he actually control the explosions?

Seems like a pretty easy place to start right? It’s a valid question; just because he has nitroglycerin in his system doesn’t mean he can actually control when or if he explodes. (Which is a bit worrying.)

The answer to this one already gives us a few inconsistencies between canon and science compliant versions of this character. Yes, he can control the explosions. If Bakugou is able to sweat nitroglycerin, he would almost always have a thin layer of explosive liquid covering his body. (It can also be assumed that, with this as his power and with puberty having already hit, he sweats a lot.) 

From there, the nitroglycerin in its liquid form can be exploded in one of two ways; heat or shock/impact. And since Bakugou obviously isn’t going to rely on a lighter or Todoroki to help him out every time he needs to use his power, it can be deduced that he’s using impact to create those explosions. Which leads us into our next section,

How would he control his power?

Going with ‘impact’ as the match to the gasoline raises two problems for Bakugou, though. One, he canonically has way more control over his power than scientifically possible, and Two, this boy is a very short-tempered one. Adding his easy-to-anger personality to this (very literally) explosive quirk would be a huge safety issue to both him and everyone around him. Having control over the blasts is possible, but it’d take effort.

So, first off, he would have to fix his anger issues and learn to not hit or slam his hands on the nearest item when something goes wrong. Along with this, he would have to avoid getting in the middle of fights as well (unless he means to use his quirk in it). He might be the most peaceful Bakugou possible, but that won’t stop an explosion from getting slapped.

He’d also need to wear thin but tight long sleeves and pants in order to absorb and dilute the nitroglycerin, making it less likely to explode on unavoidable impacts. 

Now, to address the few options he has that provide at least some for of control over the explosions. 

Initially, snapping seemed like the obvious solution. Not to say that it isn’t an option, since it would work to activate the nitroglycerin in his hand, and if he was snapping while flicking his wrist for more control, then it’d be a totally viable option. The problem comes up when looking for actual damage to be done to the opponent. Snapping his fingers close to them would be enough to stun an enemy, but the power of the explosions he could potentially make measures around the strength of the first two firecrackers from this video.

The next step I took in researching this was finding a directional way for him to clap, in order to exhibit some stronger results than the snap. (Though heads up, even at maximum power, he would not be able to naturally make the huge explosions he does in the show. The gauntlets he has though might be able to help him do that.)

There were many ways for him to, essentially, clap in order to get his blast in the intended direction, but almost all of them require at least a paragraph of explanation in order to get the idea across sans imagery. There is one that came to me almost immediately; it’s from a theater game called Zip Zap Zop. This video demonstrates the clap pretty well. 

With the impact of his fingers on his palm, the majority of the nitroglycerin would be on the palm, therefore igniting it and allowing it to go in a specific direction as he slides his exploding hand forward. 

Sweating Nitroglycerin???

So this part of the research was a lot harder than literally any of the rest of it because in every diagram I found, the sweat glands weren’t connected to anything. Literally no website I went to explained where specifically the sweat glands got their ingredients. This resulted in me taking an alternate route. 

Sweat is the body’s way of disposing of waste and maintaining a steady temperature (woop woop homeostasis), and it consists mostly of water and salt. Sweat glands are also found all throughout the body, hence Bakugou needing to dilute all the sweat with fabric before the excess sweat becomes a real problem. 

Since the “research” was a lot of roughly-averaged math based on conflicting information, the answer is tentative, but generally, yes, it is possible for him to sweat nitroglycerin. The natural implication of it into his body is a separate thing, but if you replace all the water in his body with a 2 parts water 1 part nitroglycerin mixture, his body should hold up along with the nitroglycerin. Surprisingly, it holds it’s chemical make-up holds its own pretty well in the face of water.

Bonus science fact that came out of this section: if the 2/1 water/nitroglycerin mixture was what was flowing through his veins, along with his sweat, his pee and spit would also be explosive. So would the water from his showers or baths since the nitroglycerin would be mixed into it. 

Would he be deaf?

Just going to preface this by saying I am obsessed with Deaf!Bakugou headcanons, oneshots, fics, and art because A, I love deaf representation so much, and B, it’s freaking accurate the show is lying to us he would 100% be deaf and here is why-

According to the National Institute of Deafness and Other Communication Disorders, hearing loss due to exposure to sounds can begin at 85 decibels or higher. To put this in perspective, the NIDCD says that heavy traffic averages at 85 decibels and firearms average around 150 decibels. 150 decibels is also the estimated bursting point for eardrums.

It’s difficult to estimate how powerful his explosions are, but I’m going to use an ‘average pistol’ for this research. I am doing this because firearms use mini explosions in order to fire the bullet, and an average pistol is just an average place to start. A .22 LR pistol falls around 152 decibels. 

Next, instead of going through all the calculations to see how large this explosion is in comparison to his would-be hand explosions, I decided to convert the mass of the bullet to liters (which is what I have his sweat measured in) and see how the two numbers compare. The bigger the number, the more explosive matter there is and the larger the explosion. 

Bakugou sweats roughly .21 liters per hour, based on research on how much people sweat averagely during exercise and having him be on the upper end since he’d be working out hard in order to use his quirk and have actual impact. When speaking of a .22 caliber bullet, the measurements fall around 3.1 grams. Converting that, we get .0031 liters. This number is obviously too small to compare with the caliber of explosions Bakugou is letting off. In fact, bakugou’s explosions are more than 70 times that. 

The (insane) difference between the two number shows us that Bakugou’s explosions will produce a lot more sound than that of a simple pistol. Instead of being just deaf, his eardrums would be nonexistent. HIs explosions’ sound might not be to the same ratio as the intensity but still.. hopefully he looses his hearing gradually over time as his explosions get more powerful, because otherwise, that’d be extremely painful.

(Please note that this section was written before I found these blueprints showing his headpiece as having earplugs, though he would still have significant hearing loss from the explosions he does even when he’s not wearing those.)

Could his skin take the constant damage?

The explanation for this section is less scientific and more of a theoretical hypothesis. There is also a second theory I have that helps defend this question, but I’m probably going to make that its own post. (If I do I’ll come back and link it here.)

Anyways, I think he just used simple endurance training.

It might seem random but the chances that his skin just built up strength over the years of constant, slowly growing damage being done to them. We already know his power grows as he does, and we know that he did use it as a child, so it just got used to it. Sort of like calluses from monkey bars. 

Going off of that assumption, it’s reasonable to think that at first, with his small pops, his hands’ skin was hurt but quickly grew back thicker and stronger. Because that’s how the body works when it’s hurt. When you burn your skin, it grows back with a different texture because it has been burned and it trying to prevent that damage from happening again. So if he’s been slowly building up his skins’ resistance to the explosions, he should be generally alright at this point.

Please remember this is just a theory written without much knowledge f burning skin and not a recommendation. Do not try this at home. :)

Conclusion

Scientific Bakugou:

Whenever he needs to use his quirk, he either claps, snaps, or hits the object he’s aiming for.

In order to avoid accidental explosions, he avoids sharp, impactful movements (smacking, hitting, or slamming things.)

He normally wears thin, lightweight long sleeves along with generally snug pants in order to absorb the excess sweat on his body for his safety and others.

When he sweats, he’s sweating a mixture of nitroglycerin and water. 

His spit and pee are also explosive. 

His hearing is gone completely once he hits highschool, as his explosions reach well over 150 decibels on a regular basis.

The skin on his hands has (possibly) built up burn-calluses from the explosions over the years, growing in strength as the explosions do. It still hurts but the nerve damage is enough to prevent it from being too painful.

Canon Bakugou:*

Whenever he needs to use his quirk, he somehow charges the nitroglycerin in his hand via concentration. ?

In order to avoid accidental explosions, he tries to keep control over his nerves, since that seems to be what causes him to loose control and accidentally release some pops.

He normally wears loose fitting pants and a tank top because apparently he does not fear science.

When he sweats, he's sweating nitroglycerin.

His spit and pee might be explosive but are probably not.

His hearing is just fine with barely any noticeable damage at all, despite the decibels he is constantly being exposed to.

The skin on his hands is normal and undamaged. (Bonus science inconsistency is that he wears gloves in his hero costume, which would mute his power completely. If he even managed to make an explosion in those things, they seem to be explosion resistant, so it'd do more damage to him than anything/one else.)

*I think it should be noted that canon Bakugou's power seems to be tied to his emotions, which I only noticed as I was writing this.

Outro

Despite how long it took, I really had a lot of fun with this project. I’m tempted to make this into a series, possibly doing Creati / Yao-Momo next. I also have a few things I mentioned in the post above that might be part two, three, four, etc.s to this post, but going in the direction of further exploring Bakugou’s abilities. Still need help on deciding which part two option to focus on first though. 

Possible part two’s include: 

another post like this but shorter and about his gauntlets (and hero costume in general, this would probably go more in depth on what he wears in general as well)

a post like this that follows up on my rising question of ‘could he actually control the explosions with neither of the triggers of nitroglycerin’ and going into what other explosive he’d have to use in order to have that chemical interact with the ones flowing through his system (i.e. hormones and nerves-)

a follow up on the fact that I didn’t actually complete the research on his hands being able to / not able to withstand all the explosions over the years

a post dedicated to my mini-theory about bnha having one consistent mutation over everyone who has a quirk

Also the art in the deaf!bakugou section doesn’t have a signature on it and when I reverse image searched it the only account I could find that possibly made it was @maelstrom-prince. So much freaking respect to whoever made it though, I freaking love blueprints for fictional things. 

[real6lacktony]

How To Grow Your Blog Traffic Using Tumblr

by

Eli Seekins

— Get updates of new posts

here

Save

That’s the social media dream, right? To set it and forget it, and gain thousands of followers without even trying or thinking about it?

To be honest, getting 8k followers on Tumblr in 5 months without ever logging in was never my intention.

Tumblr was distracting me from my “real work” so I thought I needed to take a break. I actually forgot about my account. Then months later thought I’d check up on it. Imagine my surprise when I saw how much it had grown.

The last time I was on I only had 500 followers. I spent that entire day studying analytics, reblogging cool pictures, and optimizing my Tumblr page to drive traffic back to my website.

Though it seems like my Tumblr blew up on its own, there was actually a very important seed that I planted, and several strategies that I implemented, that made it’s growth possible.

Let me show you how I did it. I’ve broken it down into 7 easy steps.

Oh and here are some pictures so you know I’m not just blowing steam.

This is my account back in early 2016 with only 300 followers.

Save

And here’s my account in Oct 2016 with just over 8,000 followers.

Save

And just since rediscovering my Tumblr and writing this article I’ve gained another 500.

Save

Steps to grow your Tumblr account

Choose your niche

The very first step to growing your Tumblr blog is to narrow your niche. Blogs that have specific topics tend to do better and attract more attention.

Colorful Gradients and Ghost Photographs are both examples of a super narrow niche.

But you also want to make sure to choose a niche that you’re passionate about — I mean that’s kinda the whole point in the first place.

Your niche determines what sort of content you will be posting.

Also, you don’t necessarily have to use the same exact niche as your main blog or website (if you have one). For example, my main blog Launch Your Dream is about following your dreams and it’s mostly focused on how to start a successful blog.

Save

My Tumblr blog, Eli Seekins, is also about following your dreams but is more focused on travel, adventure and lifestyle.

Save

The trick is to find something narrow that you enjoy.

For more tips on picking your niche, check out my post: How To Discover Your Perfect Niche (the Blogging Wizard — Adam — drops a mega helpful tip over there as well).

Know your brand

Your Tumblr is an extension of your brand, whether you are just starting one or already have one.

You want your brand to have a clear message. You need an edge — something that other brands don’t have. You need to know your values, what you stand for, and your mission.

That way you will always know what sort of content to post. Your brand will be clear and thorough, and people will get it.

When people get it, they have a better chance of connecting. And when they connect, they have a better chance of engaging and even sharing.

Knowing your brand also means knowing your audience. Who are you trying to reach? What sort of content do they like most?

(My brand is about following your dreams, travel, adventure, and lifestyle. I’m reaching out to young people who want to do something big with their lives. I value things like working hard, taking risks, and making a difference in the world.)

Here are 3 brands that are crushing it on Tumblr:

Adidas

Save

Sesame Street

Save

LIFE

Save

All three of these brands know who they are and who their audience is, and they do a great job of translating that over to their Tumblr.

For more help with branding, check out: 9 Tips for Creating an Awesome Brand

Follow popular accounts in your niche

A great way to find good content to repost, and to find out what people in your niche are responding to, is to check out the popular blogs in your niche.

It’s pretty easy to find them. Just look for the blogs who are posting a lot every day, who get lots of notes, and have a large following.

To get started just search for different keywords.

Save

And check out the different accounts.

Save

I’d follow anywhere from 50 – 100 blogs right away.

Reblog quality content 1 – 3 times a day (by using your queue)

One of the greatest tools in Tumblr is your queue.

Save

You can fill it with up to 300 posts, and set a certain amount of those posts to automatically publish throughout different times of the day.

In my opinion, your queue is perfect for filling up with loads of content to reblog (reblog means to repost someone else’s content on your Tumblr blog). And I just schedule my original stuff. That way I’m always sharing content, and I can schedule my content to post whenever I want and at peak times.

I often experiment with reblogging anywhere from 1 – 50 posts a day.

For those 5 months that I didn’t log into my account, when I gained 8,000 followers, I had about 200 reblogs in my queue set to share 1 photo a day at 9pm. And I wasn’t even sharing any original content.

Typically the bigger your audience grows the more content you can post. I don’t recommend sharing more than 3-5 posts a day until you get your first 1,000 followers.

You can find good content to reblog on the popular blogs that you’ve followed, by searching keywords in the search bar, or just by checking out your dashboard feed.

Then all you have to do is hit the queue button.

Save

You can change your queue settings over in the menu on the right.

Save

Include relevant hashtags

Hashtags in Tumblr are the keywords that make your posts searchable. They’re very important for getting your content seen.

You can find popular hashtags by doing a search and seeing what people are looking for.

And by typing in different tags in a post to see what people are using.

Save

Make sure that you use tags that are popular and relevant to your niche AND relevant to the content you are tagging. Just so you know only the first 20 tags that you use are actually searchable (source).

Use a call to action

I was surprised by how few people were using call to actions when I first started implementing these strategies. Since then, it seems like some popular accounts in my niche have caught on though.

Save

Save

That’s because call to actions are powerful. It’s how this post has gotten almost 15,000,000 notes, by simply saying “pass it on”.

It’s great if your posts get a lot of attention, but if your viewers aren’t doing anything after they see your content what’s the point? Don’t you want them to take action?

All of your posts should include some sort of call to action, whether it’s to bring viewers to your Tumblr blog, to your main site, or somewhere different — or even to just get likes and reblogs.

At first, I felt kinda weird putting call to actions on other people’s content that I was reposting, but it’s ok to do if you do it right. And it can make a big difference. Just make sure to be genuine. For example, don’t repost someone’s original photo and use it to promote your ebook or video course. That’s kinda sleezy. But leaving a call to action on reblogs to like, reblog, or check out more of your posts is totally ok and can increase your engagement and get you more followers.

Warning

Always ensure that the creator of images you share retain credit. It can sometimes be difficult to to figure out who originally shared something on Tumblr – reblog’s usually link to the person who you reblogged it from. But we recommend trying to credit the original author if you can. And whatever you do, never remove a credit link. And try to share original content when you can – you’ll get more traction if you do.

For more tips on how to write good call to actions check out these posts:

Hook, Line, and Sinker: 7 Tips for a Killer Call-to-Action

5 Ways to Write Magnetic Call-to-Actions in Just 5 Minutes

21 Call to Action Examples and 3 Rules for Effective CTAs

31 Call-to-Action Examples You Can’t Help But Click

Use keyboard shortcuts to supercharge the speed of your workflow

I’m gonna be honest, filling up your queue with hundreds of posts is a lot of work — it eats up your time. I even considered quitting Tumblr for good because of how much time it takes.

One of the things that bothers me the most is that you can’t copy paste hashtags. You have to type each one in individually. And if you’re using 5 – 20 tags per post and have 300 posts in your queue…. that’s a lot of typing hashtags.

It took me a little bit of time to figure out, but I have my Tumblr workflow down to a system. I can’t even imagine how much time it saves me.

It’s all based on Mac Mastro (I use a mac, but if you’re a pc guy check out AutoHotkey or Quick Macros). This app allows me to save multiple different presets of titles, tags, and call to actions into keyboard shortcuts. So all I have to do is press a button combination on my keyboard and everything is automatically typed out for me. That way I don’t have to keep typing the same things over and over again hundreds — even thousands of times.

I’ll show you what I mean…

Here’s an example of my workflow, hotkeys, and scripts that I use.

1. Find a post to reblog

Save

2. Add a call to action with a hotkey

Save

Mac Mastro allows you to save multiple different actions to one hotkey, that way when you press the hotkey you can just click whichever one you want to use, then it types it for you.

3. Format your CTA and add a link if appropriate (again using a hotkey)

Save

4. Add tags (using a hotkey)

Save

5. Add to queue and you’re done

Save

The whole process takes a matter of seconds and dramatically decreases the amount of time it would normally take.

To create a new hotkey with Mac Mastro:

1. Go to File and then New Macro.

2. Add a new hotkey trigger. And then press whatever keys you want your hotkey to be.

Save

3. Add a new action

4. Search for and click “ Execute an AppleScript”

Save

5. Insert your script

Here are examples of the different scripts I use in Mac Mastro.

This is what I use for all my CTAs and links.

on run tell application "System Events" delay 0.25 keystroke "What You Want Typed Here" end tell end run

And this is what I use for all my tags.

on run tell application "System Events" delay 0.25 keystroke "tag 1" keystroke return delay 0.1 keystroke "tag 2" keystroke return delay 0.1 keystroke "tag 3" keystroke return delay 0.1 keystroke "tag 4" keystroke return delay 0.1 keystroke "tag 5" keystroke return end tell end run

Just put whatever you want your hotkey to type between the quotes after “keystroke”.

Tags are a little more tricky because you need the script to press enter after each one. That’s why there are delays and extra keystrokes.

And that’s it. Whenever you hit your hotkey it will type out whatever the script is set to type.

Extra Tumblr tips

Don’t try to sell

Save

At Least not at first when you are trying to grow. You can’t focus both on selling and getting followers at the same time. And honestly it’s pointless to sell when you don’t have an audience yet.

Plus people get on Tumblr to be entertained. People choose Tumblr over places like Facebook and Linkedin because it’s hip — it’s cool and artistic — it’s where the trend setters and young people go.

And they’re very good at detecting and filtering the content that they want to see. If they see your post, and get any sort of sleazy vibe, they’ll scroll past it without thinking twice.

Use Tumblr as a creative place to experiment and try new things — and especially as a place to post original content.

If your goal is still to sell, think of Tumblr as the top of your funnel, where you create awareness and grow relationships, not where you make your pitch.

Get a custom theme and domain name

Tumblr has a big creative vibe. Creativity and good design is important to a lot of its users. On top of that, Derek Halpern, Hubspot rated the design as the:

#1 thing that influences a viewer in those few seconds when they decide to stay on a website or not…

A study done by Elizabeth Sillence that found 94% of the participants who distrusted a website distrusted it because of its design.

That’s why getting a good looking and practical theme is important.

Just do a quick Google search, or click here to check out some different themes.

Save

Using a custom domain name isn’t necessary. It’s more of a personal and brand choice. And it’s definitely not going to make a big difference when you first get started. But if you want to stand out a little more, go for it. I didn’t start using my personal domain name until my blog caught on and started gaining momentum.

Check out this easy guide by NameCheap for using a custom domain name.

Create original content

Tumblr is a great place for content curators. But anyone can reblog other people’s posts. If you really want to stand out, post original content specifically for your audience on Tumblr that aligns with your brand. It’s also a good place to share your content from other platforms.

For example, I take photos of all my hiking and travel adventures. I pick out individual photos, write small 100 – 500 word micro blogs to go with them, and post one daily on Tumblr.

Save

And I don’t post them anywhere else. I also post daily original quotes that align with my brand.

And I also share all my YouTube videos on my Tumblr blog, as well as all the articles that I write.

Oh and make sure to add a source url of your blog or website whenever you post original stuff, that way you’ll get credit for it. And it will help drive a little bit of traffic for you. Plus getting your links shared on social media will help build your SEO.

So Tumblr is great for 3 things: reblogging quality content, posting original content, and sharing your content from other platforms.

Like I said though, creating original content specifically for Tumblr, is what makes certain bloggers stand out from the rest.

And posting content that’s visual — like photos, videos and GIFs — is a must.

Save

If you’re afraid to post original content because you don’t think it’s good enough, don’t be. Everybody has to start somewhere. You’ll get better the more you create and the more you post. If you look at the original content I first posted on Tumblr, it looks horrible compared to what I’m posting now. Every great blogger and content creator started out bad — seriously. They just practiced and increased their skill as they went along.

So get to work.

Drive traffic

I’m still learning the ropes when it comes to using Tumblr to bring traffic to your main blog or website. But since revamping my Tumblr, linking back to my site, and writing this article, Tumblr has brought 56 visitors to Launch Your Dream, which is more than Twitter, Facebook or Pinterest brought for me during that same time.

One thing to note is that I’m focused on growing my Tumblr following right now, rather than driving traffic to my website. So only something like 1 out of every 50 of my Tumblr posts link to Launch Your Dream. Almost all the rest link back to my Tumblr blog. How much traffic do you think I’d get if I linked to my main site more?

Maybe we’ll find out later.

Only time will tell how effective my new Tumblr will be at driving traffic to my website. But I’m excited to grow this new following, and to see how it impacts my main blog in the future.

Over to you

[maneaterwithtail]

Why I do not think I will ever be a friend to pearl-stans

Crossposted from spacebattles

Think of this as a companion or follow up to my reaction to the Lea C video

I suppose if there is a main character that I dislike in Steven Universe it's Pearl. In no small part there's her fans because chances are there were 'pressed or budding lesbians who view any attack on her as an attack on the entire concept of their identity. The fact that she's painstakingly tied into said Rebel lesbian identity while often referencing revolutionary girl utena which in my opinion did a much better job handling that as an identity / phenomena

But I don't have any real rational reasons. There's this one moment in this one episode that permanently pissed me off about ttheshow, months later it was still pissing me off. Okay this isn't the first time this had happened with the sshow. at one point you would receive extra canonical material or the charafters be characterized one way and then when it was necessary for the plot characterized another way. A popular one is when Pearl said she can't stand eating so that that way she doesn't become present at a parent get together which causes some really annoying hijinks. But that's just one episode. no, what really collapsed my suspension of disbelief for her as a character and required me to desperately not think she was a real character but just a series of events that did whatever the episode wanted her to?

"What is a sch-ool?"

To be clear this is an alien being who comes from another planet where they have temples. They understand the purpose of Arenas in which to fight for displaying to martial prowess. And she has a 14 year old human son. She's been on Earth for thousands of years. Also she doesn't just know how to operate a motor vehicle and repair one she talks explicitly about traffic laws these cannot be any older than 200 plus years. Despite all of this she does not know what a school is a human practice that has been practiced for thousands of years

That moment, right there, completely destroyed all credibility as a character. She'll have emotional moments that she evokes very well. Because they give her some pretty solid writing and her actress does a damn fine job. But that does not matter because they've basically toled me in certain terms that she is made of stupid. Whenever they want to make her alien they will make her inexplicably alien and Incredibly dumb to make a plot go forward. Whenever they want to make her too traumatized they will make her too traumatized to justify some bullshit. It's everything I Hate About Mary Sue writing ( even though she is most certainly not a Mary Sue.) Arbitrary in order to evoke audience sympathy rather than earn it and ignore consistency with either setting or character. I don't even hate her that much it's just when they say care about her that I can't do it. I'm always at an enormous divide whenever they try to center on the character.

again this would be okay if she weren't front-and-center on several plots. And hating her basically didn't come with an immediate Repulsor field of saying anything bad or evil or mean about her basically brings out every lesbian, girl who's not like other girls, animation aspirant, or Shoujo Manga fan who's had to deal with any harassment at any point in their lives and assumes that you're part of another chain of evil man figures. Cuz seriously Pearl is really really bothersome. And it gets more so when it feels like her bother some parts get put aside to make her more sympathetic or to make sympathetic allusions. 

The big one for me was when they implied she was going to date a human woman. Despite the fact almost every other word out of her mouth about humans is utter contempt and disgust along with the aapprehensive fact she knows so little about their culture she can't pick up on 2000 year plus old practices. This would imply a level of bigotry that I honestly appreciate the entire fandom accepting in dis course

But much like a popular web novel series apparently her victimhood due to status and how she's crafted in terms of appealing identity matters more than the actual actions and character she displays. This is made even worse due to recent Revelations where I'm supposed to care even more

What's weird about it is that Pearl is in my opinion an incredibly well-written bigoted character. But she's not appreciated as such she's appreciated as basically a Justified bitch. And if any male character dares to show a similar level of fault unless yyou are stanning or shipping them they will be hated the fuck out oof or just dismissed. As far as I'm concerned Uncle Andy is Pearl with Aviation as opposed to space flight and spear use. He's effectively the straight older guy version of pearl. But no one will see that because all they can see is 

oh she's autistic just like me 

she's post-traumatic stress disorder just like me 

oh she's a lesbian or atypical about feminism in some sort of way just like me. 

And this got very explicit with one Tumblr poster who out and out said this then privately contacted me when I reblogged that moment to have me delete it and then close down her entire blog. This gets particularly bad due to the greater critical Steven Universe sentiment. Which honestly I want to enjoy but I can't help but feel that they're more pissed off that the lesbian Revolution was not what was being televised and not frustration with various storytelling beats because almost all the common storytelling criticism get apologized for by every fan and blamed on Cartoon Network

There is a fractal wrongness with the "what is a school" line coming from Pearl. To be fair it actually comes from Steven but she's basically repeats it a scene later and reveals her ignorance. Ignoring the fact that it's unrealistic for her to be ignorant or to not have looked it up in a fucking dictionary. There's the fact that that's "what is this thing you humans called love and or kissing?" level writing.

. Pearl is very deliberately kind of the anti girl written for guys sort of character. She's very much a girl written for girls sort of character. And I don't mean aimed at a female audience. I mean she's like the anti Starfire. this extends to hur character design which is all sharp edges along with the very deliberate I'm a lesbian fuck off codifiers that I keep mentioning. And the way they often and continuously show her as complicated is to do stupid shit like this. Make her have a breakdown and or make her ignorant about a human subject but only in a convenient way for a narrative. And when the consequences come they will be softened considerably because we need to be recognizing that she is a mentally ill lesbian who was oppressed and abused

[mykesprit]

Drabble: “Finding Time for Eduardo”

By MykEsprit

Pairing: Hermione/Multi

Rating: T

The offices were still empty, and the corridors – usually bustling with heavy foot traffic – were as silent as the references section of a library in the middle of July. All was quiet at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. After all, only she would be there at six in the morning.

It was Hermione's sanctuary, her favorite place to go to escape the flurry of activity at home.

She lounged on the brown, leather couch in her office and opened her worn, dog-eared copy of Bite Me Thrice, a vampire novel that she liked to dive into whenever she needed a little romance in her life.

Hermione was able to read for ten glorious minutes before the first owl from home arrived. It tapped incessantly on her window, so she got up to receive the urgent note: Have you seen my new Auror robe? The one with the gray lining? Can't find it anywhere. -Harry

She answered the missive (Did you check the back of your closet?) and sent the owl on his way.

She moved to lie back down on the couch, but the fireplace next to her desk suddenly chimed. She sighed and went over to kneel in front of the green fire.

"What is it?" she asked irritably.

"Good morning to you, too," said Draco's floating head.

"What do you need, Draco?"

"We're out of coffee, Granger," he complained.

"And?" she countered.

"And, I need coffee?" he said.

"Okay," she said. "So, go out and get some."

She stood up and closed the grate in front of the fireplace.

Hermione went back to reading and was just at the part of Eduardo's monologue on how sinfully delicious he found Maria to be, when another owl arrived and grabbed her attention. She let the owl inside, and she took three rolled parchments from his legs.

One read: Can you stop by the store on your way home and grab some milk? We're fresh out. -Theo P.S., And coffee! - Draco

Another: Is it ok if Dean and I go to the pub after work? We'll be home in time for supper. Your turn to cook tonight, right? – Seamus

And the third one said: It's not there. -Harry

She sighed, replied, and sent the poor owl back home once again. When she tried to settle back down, she heard movement out in the hallway; the workday had officially started. She reluctantly tucked the book in her purse and started writing up her reports.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione arrived home, her arms full of coffee beans, milk, and enough steak and potatoes to feed seven people.

The television was on, and Draco and Theo sat close to the screen, playing Call of Duty. Dean and Seamus had brought the game consoles to the house when they moved in, and the two Pureblood men were instantly hooked.

"Little help?" she asked.

"Sure, Granger – let me – just – clear this – area…" said Draco, without taking his eyes off the game.

"Yeah," said Theo, without looking over to her, either. "Almost – done –"

Hermione rolled her eyes and headed to the kitchen. She started putting things away and prepped the food for cooking. Ten minutes later, the two young men showed up in the doorway.

"Too late," she said briskly.

They had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Sorry, Granger," Draco said. "Here, let us help you with that."

He and Theo both tried to help her with the potatoes, but after learning her lesson several months ago and almost losing the entire kitchen in a blazing oil fire – courtesy of Draco – she shooed them away.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner was as raucous as always, with five ravenous men to feed. It should have been six, but Neville had forgotten to Owl her saying that he would be stuck at work.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said over the Floo call, an hour after dinner was done. "I lost track of time while I was repotting the Mandrakes."

Hermione shrugged. "It's okay, Neville. I know this time of the school year is busy for you."

"Yeah, about that," he said, apologetically. "I know it's supposed to be my turn tonight, but I've got a ton of papers to grade, so I was thinking of just staying on at Hogwarts. Is that all right?"

She gave him a small smile. "Of course."

"I'll make it up to you, I promise," he said sweetly.

After a few more pleasantries, they ended their call.

She left her study and snuck through the living room, where the rest of her Ministry-assigned husbands were busy shooting at Nazis on the PlayStation. She quietly went to the hallway closet and took something from her purse.

She hurried to her bedroom and closed the door, muffling the boisterous sounds of her gaming husbands. The boys were usually respectful of her personal space, but she locked the door, anyway, in case one of them came looking for help to find a pair of socks or some other easily solved problem.

She sat on the bed with her rescued book in her hand, and she eagerly opened it to the last page she had read.

Eduardo was waiting.

Part of the Half-Baked Hermiones Drabble Collection.

If you want to see this work expanded, reply on this post!

If you want to prompt me, send me an Ask!

If you liked this drabble, please reblog!

[theragamuffininitiative]

Winn Schott - He Protects the Stars (a S1 masterpost, part II)

The first post got too long, so here are episodes 11-20, the full second half, of Season One. :)

Me, rambling about my favorite cape-less hero, in chronological order. This is an appreciation post for anything and everything I can mention and that is all.

(the poor boy, he goes through a lot, and this is about the view of him we get this half. also, that gif is tagged as #winn schott #or is it jeremy and that is a legitimate question all the time.)

Episodic breakdowns under the cut again, enjoy!

This post will be reblogged as I add in episodes from E10 to the season finale.

1x11, Strange Visitor from Another Planet

a really mediocre title for an episode depressingly low in WinnContent

Kara: I miss my best friend, Alex.” We do too, Kara, we do too.

Winn. Awkward Winn. Upset Winn. At least coming to his senses enough to wish her a good day and smile, because even when he’s so unhappy, he’s never gonna stop caring about her the most.

Whenever they don’t actually write something for Winn to be in, but his desk appears in the background, they have his messenger bag slung over his chair so at least you know they haven’t forgotten about him. XD

You can tell he feels bad about shutting Kara down, initiating conversation the next time they see each other. “Space and time,” she offers. That smile he gives as the elevator closes tells you that they are going to be ok. :)

1x12, Bizarro

Another new tag added to the repertoire for this episode: salty cinnamon roll

Winn and Kara repairing their relationship, because heck, Winn will always care about her no matter what and I want to believe Kara will too. #supportive friend(s)

Cat found out from Winn what Kara’s favorite coffee is. I love all three of them so much. Winn doesn’t even use it to try and get back in Kara’s good graces, because he doesn’t like being manipulated and doesn’t manipulate the people he cares about, he just cares for them. Precious sunshine child. Please never change.

So offended by James’ questioning look. “I measured her for her suit!”

Is so observant of the people around him, he knew James was lying last time, and knows Kara is lying now. Also, these two opening scenes with them are actually very well written to break the ice, kudos to the writers for that.

even if the whole date thing is so awkward with James and Winn and Kara and all their recent/future history lol

but back to Winn. Calling James out on all James’ pretenses of “Adam’s great, yeah, who-hoo” - “You’ve never even met him.” XD XD #salty cinnamon roll

Reappearance of Winn’s bag standing in for a scene they didn’t write anything for the character, but need to remind us he does have a job there. *eye roll*

Two years. Two years’ worth of hospital/police records that Winn dug through to find Bizarro. And how long did it take him? Under 24 hours. #genius

I love that Winn is very quick to encourage James to not be the coward he was when it comes to Kara. Like, it’s incredibly awkward how everyone is crushing on her, but Winn putting his own feelings (now that they’ve been healthily addressed) to the side, and again calling James out on his crap as the dude is trying to date Lucy but more interested in Kara.... #supportive friend and #genius and just all around a good guy.

“Leave the bottle!” oh Winn. XD

1x13, For the Girl Who Has Everything

Look, the whole point of this post was to highlight that Winn is a true hero and honestly responsible for a lot of what goes right, it’s not my fault the show decided to focus so heavily on Kara’s love life, but here we go, back on track...almost.

He. Is. So. Concerned. About. His. Friend. that’s it - that’s the episode.

Winn telling the tick story to Cat is the funniest thing, also admirable how he’s the one trying to save Kara’s job like he and James agreed to do together. One thing I don’t think I can add to his Jack of All Trades list is lying. Concealing the truth? Yeah. Lying convincingly? Never.

Cat: “I have been watching you cover for her day after day, putting yourself and your job in jeopardy, and for what?” For a friend. For a person he cares about and would die for in a heartbeat. #supportive friend #hero

*sees an unknown person exactly replicating another and immediately wants to know the science of it* #nerd

“Hey Kara, wake up.” #supportive friend

Here we go! Winn being the one to hypothesize that the satellites being down could be something the invader’s are depending on. #genius #hero

Is the first one to realize Alex succeeded in saving her sister.

And is the only one present enough to talk to his friend and console her as she is jarred awake. #hero

With the gang, making sure she 1) could come back 2) save her job and 3) have a clean home to walk into and not be left alone. And being the one to crack jokes and make everyone smile. #supportive friend

Making sure that they are, truly, friends again. Yes. Good.

1x14, Truth, Justice, and the American Way

Not important, but the whole opening exchange between Kara and Winn is adorable and I love these two nerds’ friendship.

The arrival of Soiubhgsn

just pointing out the bag is standing in for Winn again while Cat is asking about Lord and Kara eavesdrops. #where is the boy

Aside: James is really good in this episode, more of that would not hurt.

More of Winn would be better though.

1x15, Solitude

#messenger bag (I don’t think that’s actually kind of bag, but it’s been doing a lot of stand-ins for Winn, and may I say, its acting ability is a s.e.v.e.r.e. downgrade)

“Toyman Jr.” never ever needs to be a thing

It takes Winn approximately two seconds to take Indigo’s traffic light remark and figure out what she’s doing, and then out of every single traffic light in the city, somehow finds the one with the most collateral damage and pinpoints it in time to decisively send Supergirl there and save lives. #genius #hero

-also, possibly is the one who hacks the traffic lights back to working order??? seeing as that’s the last incident and Kara isn’t in a panic to go save anyone else???

#cardigan hobbit

“He’s been mumbling to himself like that for over an hour, isn’t that the first sign of-” “Genius. Yes.” Thank you, Kara.

I appreciate the nerd vibes of Winn’s candy and popcorn, but heck. There are two coffees, a soda, and FIVE energy drinks. This guy is running on fumes, please someone fix him an actual meal???

Yes, let’s have the villain choke one of the characters, toss them across the room, and then have them jump up just fine and offer a snappy one-liner, because obviously they need zero time to recover from that. #protect him

Assisting Soudfgndf and listening to her when she opens up to him. #the most empathetic character on television

Really wants to help the DEO but checks with his friend first.

“You realize I’m learning an alien coding language in the time it takes to watch an episode of Doctor Who.” #genius

Not only helps the DEO reach the same conclusion as James, Kara, Lucy, and Clark’s information gets, but saves himself and the day by stopping Indigo by recreating a computer virus he accidentally made two years previously. #genius #hero

stands up to/comforts/??? Siobhan - we’ll get to her later.

1x16, Falling

Winn “computer droid” Schott Jr

“You are literally impervious to bullets and I’m worried about your safety right now”

Siobhan gets fired, Winn is again the only one to try and help (I promise I’ll address their relationship). #the most empathetic character on television

Winn and James’ concern for Kara, yes good.

Um, excuse me, but that is Winn putting a calming hand on James’ shoulder when he starts yelling at Lord. #supportive friend #priorities

The panic on many levels when he shouts “She killed Ms. Grant?!”

So, like, everyone remembers that Kara’s “best friend in the whole world” was very worried about her, even if he doesn’t appear at all in the last half of the episode, right? #where is the boy

1x17, Manhunter

Jack-of-all-trades #7: Assistant to Miss Grant. Open with Winn for the first time, if I recall correctly, being in on the whole group staff meeting in Cat’s office for breaking news coverage. Cat recognizes Winn as a valuable person to have around after recent events. Also, he has to remind her Kara isn’t there. XD (James helps, reluctantly.)

He is so supportive and encouraging to Siobhan?? Even when he knows she’s wrong?? And at the same time is getting her off Kara’s back??? #supportive friend and #the most empathetic character on television

Aside: Space Dad J’onn and Alex are good in this episode.

The way he stumbles to add “Jr” to his full name. Poor kid. #daddy issues is a tag I should have been using during “Childish Things”, but, well, that’s the entire episode.

Winn and Kara’s first meeting is a lovely moment. Platonic or romantic, if you don’t believe in love at first sight, you’ve never seen the way Winn looks after Kara as she breaks away for her interview. They are destined to be best friends.

Okay, but Kara’s shirt having snaps instead of buttons so she can easily become Supergirl in a second’s notice? That wardrobe design has Winn written all over it and you won’t convince me otherwise.

“Obsessive study of Kara for the past two years.” Cat doesn’t miss a thing.

Look at how disappointed he is, unhappy to tell Siobhan he found her out, and saddened that she would do that. #the most empathetic character on television

Someone please just keep this boy and his friends away from rooftops it never ever ever ends well and it’s going to give him a fear complex. #protect him

And his trying to help Siobhan. Again, always, never giving up on people and forever caring too much.

1x18, World’s Finest

His concern for both Kara and Siobhan is admirable, also, the times he and Kara get their best friends moments are always my favorite. She needs someone to confide in and he’s always there. #supportive friend

Ok. So. Winn and Siobhan never even had an actual date. Their entire relationship was built on her using him for her own ends whenever she needed something. Comfort, distraction, information, she got what she needed and invested nothing. It’s made very clear that she never cared about him. Now, on Winn’s side, it’s obvious he’s trying to move on from Kara in a healthy way. He just... finds absolutely the wrong person to be his girlfriend.

I CANNOT SAY ENOUGH ABOUT THE WHOLE ICECREAM SCENE WITH BARRY. THIS IS QUITE POSSIBLE THE BEST SCENE IN THE ENTIRE SHOW. THE COMEDIC GENIUS, THE COLORING FROM WARDROBE, THE CAMERA MOVEMENTS, AND ESPECIALLY WINN AND BARRY’S INTERACTIONS. #BLESSED

Noticed Winn’s little point at the powered on computer like he’s offended someone has been messing with his stuff. XD #nerd

Aside: I hope Barry paid for the ice cream???

Dynamic Duo (TM). MORE OF THEM PLEASE.

Winn is enjoying James being the jealous odd man out for a change, and I kind of love it, I think he’s earned that much in the very least. ;) #salty cinnamon roll

Being the one to try and stop Crazy Eyes Silver Banshee, not by force, but by simply putting himself in her way and trying to reason with her, offering her help, caring for her. #hero

1x19, Myriad

Winn doesn’t get a lot of screen time in the two-part season finale, but there’s some good content in there even so:

Thank you, CW, for going one step further in the wrong direction from #messenger bag to actually hiring an extra to play Winn at his desk who doesn’t even look anything like him.

Scary little Myriad-controlled smile.

Friendly reminder that Mr. Schott Jr. reeeeeeaaallyy Does NOT Like Heights, and that Myriad (with Indigo, who may or may not remember the computer geek who threw off her groove last time) is used to make him be the one to jump off a building for a change. Also, friendly reminder that Winn was aware of what was going on while under Myriad’s influence. If he wasn’t scared of heights before, he would be now anyway. #protect him

#”nice socks winn”

Not sure why Kara isn’t concerned that her two friends who were just forced to jump off a building are now nowhere to be seen??

that’s literally all the Winn we get in this episode, folks.

1x20, Better Angels

Jack-of-all-trades #8: just, like, really good??? I’m sorry, I don’t know how to word this, but Winn is literally the first person shown to snap out of Myriad’s control: first by Supergirl saying the enemy has attacked his freewill and individuality, and then completely when he remembers his friend Kara, who is saying “you let me be who I’m meant to be.” The others don’t break Myriad’s hold until Kara reminds them of their own strength and ultimately calls them to action. #hero

James being awkward and Winn gracefully (if dorkily) backing off. #supportive friend

Winn gets in on the staff meeting again. He doesn’t even have to be called in specially, or need an ulterior reason for being there, he just joins the rest of the crew because he has a place there now.

Taking medicine for the headache that’s left after Myriad. #protect him

“A Guide to Caring for Your Superhero Best Friend” by Winn Schott Jr: Step 1) learn to immediately recognize when something is trouble your super friend. Step 2) ask if she’s alright. Step 3) offer her food, this has been proven to be helpful in the past. 4) try cheering her up with a joke. Step 5) listen to her when she decides to spill her guts to you. #supportive friend #the most empathetic character on television

*****STEP 6, love her very much and be very concerned when she gives a pretty speech and then leaves.

The .2 seconds we see of Winn while Myriad is at 70-90% kill me. Absolutely kill me. Everyone else is clutching their heads and faces, the pain of the attack overwhelming them. Obviously the pain is affecting our boy too, but the look on his face is not so much pain as it is sheer terror. Winn is five minutes away from dying, and he is in pain, and terrified and please someone protect him, he did not ask for any of this. (Kudos to Jeremy’s acting)

I’m hoping somebody gave our hero lots of aspirin and hugs.

Winn’s smile and laugh at the end family celebration (yes. they. are. all. family.) is LIFE.

That’s it for Season One!

Season Two, we get Agent Schott. :D :D And lots more impressive hero work for our resident genius, jack-of-all-trades, precious sunshine child. ;)

[firesong-writes69]

My New York Comic Con Experience (Or the time I called in Gay to Class)

Whew. Thank you all for your well wishes and excited messages the other day, cheering me on as I traveled to the NY panel! I was a mess but talking with you all helped keep me sane for the most part. I have So. Much. To. Tell. You! 

(Prepare for a really long, rambling mess of a post, but by now you all are used to the things I upload on this blog, haha! :p) 

So, here goes. I spent the night before packing for the day, and I suppose I over-packed, bringing two water bottles and a whole sandwich for lunch. And a packet of gum. And like, a dozen protein bars. I read online that it’s always good to bring your own food to these types of conventions because it can get EXPENSIVE. Not to mention, for those of you who have social anxiety like I do, waiting on line with a bunch of other hungry people is nerve-wracking. But at least I got to share the protein bars with my traveling buddies, so that was nice. 

I’m only ten minutes away from New York by train, and a round trip ticket costs $8 dollars. I’m glad I took the train and not the bus because when I looked out onto the main route to NY, there was bumper-to-bumper traffic. Having been born in New Jersey I’m used to this, but I know for someone who came from the South it would have been hard to handle. Pro tip for traveling on trains: always ask the train conductor before getting on if it goes to your appropriate stop. Beware of express trains, sometimes they completely miss it. Also, don’t stand in the middle of the hallway between the door and the next car while the train is moving, it’s fucking terrifying bro. 

So there I am, ready to go with my fully-packed backpack and on my way. I pull out my phone and decided to tell you all that I’m almost there, typing “New York Comic Con: Or Bust!!!” and guess who fucking reblogs it. @hotladypants had me shook for the entire ride. It was great. 

It wasn’t hard to find my way to the Javits Center because I just followed the crowd of people in cosplay, and made it there on time. Whenever you go to a big convention, don’t be shy to ask the people in uniform questions. They’ll help you if you’re feeling lost/overwhelmed. There’s also a quiet room at Comic Con to hang out in if you need a break--which is smart. I was told that it’s going to be an hour wait before the Javits Center opens so I relaxed on line, talking with the people around me and admiring how cool everyone looked in their costumes. A family of Pikachu’s walked past, Max and Chloe from Life is Strange blessed me with their awesome selves, a young family from Texas dressed up as Star Wars characters (the mom was Rey, the kid was Yoda, and the grandmother was Kylo-Ren, I WISH I TOOK PICTURES) and a couple dressed up as workers from the company Cinnabon. But I had a good time waiting. The kid taught me about Star Wars, when I painfully admitted that I haven’t seen a single movie, but he was gracious and told me what a lightsaber was. 

When I finally made it onto the main floor, my mouth dropped open at the GIANT ASS RWBY POSTER HANGING. Like, holy fuck. it looked glorious. I then contacted @nootvanlis and asked her if she was there, and I excitedly hurried down to 1A24, where the panel was, and met her! I can confirm she’s a beautiful person and so nice. I introduced myself as “mynameisnikki” and she recognized me, haha! :’) Hanging out with her was @princesshollis, who is also super rad. I had a fun time talking with them both and we all shared stories as we waited to get in. 

There were two panels going on before Carmilla’s, so I don’t remember much of them. I took a cat nap. Is anyone a fan of the movie Die Hard? :/ 

When creampuffs started to pour into the room I started to grow nervous and excited. There was so much energy and love in that room and I couldn’t help but look at everyone with awe, struggling to believe that like, holy fuck... this was going to happen. This was happening. I made it. 

Why didn’t anyone tell me that your heart was going to stop when you saw Elise and Natasha for the first time? That you felt like you couldn’t breathe? That you see your life flashing before your eyes, you are suddenly blinded by how beautiful they both are? I swear I fell over on my chair the moment they ran in, holding hands, and I was already crying. Did anyone else notice the halo surrounding them both or was it just me? I was probably so hyped I was hallucinating. 

I was sitting in the front row next to Gabi and Linds, and I didn’t fully register that I was in Natasha’s direct line of sight until AFTER the panel. I was so in shock by both of their beauty that I couldn’t remember where I was. Or how to speak English. They usually have that affect on people, right? Like I’m not the only one? 

I wish someone told me that trying to stay calm during a panel was easier said than done. My hand had a mind of its own, shaking like a fucking leaf, and I felt bad because I needed someone to hold it the whole time! I now finally know what everyone’s talking about when Elise and Natasha have their “moment”. The way they look at each other. Smile at each other, like no one else is in the room. “Oh, there are other people here.” Says Natasha, and the noise that came out of my mouth WAS NOT HUMAN. MY EYES WERE BLESSED. 

Another wild thing that happened was I think Natasha noticed I was on the verge of either falling onto the floor and dying or crying of laughter, and I caught her staring at me for a solid two minutes. Feebly, I gave her a weak smile and something between a wave/thumb up, AND SHE FUCKING WIGGLED HER EYEBROWS AT ME. LIKE BABE. YOU KNOW I’M ABOUT TO HAVE A PANIC ATTACK WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT. GAAAH. 

When it came time for audience Q and A’s, I’m not sure what came over me. All I knew was that I wanted to say something, anything, and if I didn’t I would never forgive myself. So I ran over to the mic so fast, which I am certain I time traveled because no way do I ever move that fast in real life. I’m glad I had my folder in my hand and I was ready to give them my present. 

There was so much I wanted to say. I wanted to say, “Thank you, Carmilla. Thank you for giving me a home.” BUT I ENDED UP RAMBLING ABOUT HOW GAY I AM LIKE AN IDIOT. WHY DIDN’T ANYONE TELL ME THAT ASKING A QUESTION TO YOUR FAVORITE HUMANS WAS LIKE GOING FOR A JOB INTERVIEW??? Oh my god, now all of you are going to see how I fumbled at the panel. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to take up so much time, honest! I’m just glad I remembered about the gift I wanted to give and anxiously blurted out, “I have something to give you!” And Elise excited said, “Yeah, we’ll take your art!” I think I peed myself. And I think I repeatedly said, “Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m going to cry.” But I don’t remember, it’s all just a giant blur in my head right now XD Natasha was so excited to have it, guys. She told me, “I’m looking forward to reading this. Thank you so much! Come to the meet and greet later so I can talk to you, okay?” 

.... 

..... 

Natasha is a fucking gift. A GIFT. 

I walk back to my seat in a daze, and everyone is cheering, and I just turn to Gabi and repeatedly asked, “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?”  and, “DID I JUST DO THAT.” 

I was a mess. A hot, blubbering mess. But it was... oh my god, it was honestly the greatest experience of my life. I waited on line for the meet n greet, still an emotional mess, but everyone was so warm and welcoming and comforted me, which I appreciated so much! I felt like I seemed more calm and collected when I finally went up to them and said, “I’M SORRY I DON’T HAVE A COHERENT MIND RIGHT NOW BUT I LOVE YOU BOTH SO MUCH SORRY FOR BEING A MESS BEFORE.” And Natasha assured me that everything was fine, and she said, “Thank you for sharing your story with us. That was very brave.” And you want to know what I fucking said? 

“Yeah, no. That’s totally cool man.” 

.... *repeatedly slaps head* 

If anyone needs me, I’ll be over in the corner. Crying in gay. Wearing my pride flag. Wishing that I could relive yesterday over and over. Thank you, Carmilla. Thank you for everything. 

[occasionallygrovyle]

Blog organization: A guide

Mama bird here, gonna give ya a rundown on how to make ur bloggos 👍👍 so y’all can gain more traffic and love for all ya lovely blogs and mons.

Been doing this pokemon blogging business for 4 years, been here and back, so lemme give ya the 411 on how to make them blogs sparkle n shine

Pokeask/daily blogs should be focused on exactly that: interactions and the such. OOC should be limited to munday memes and the such. I know some folks prefer to keep ooc meme prompts to weekends and munday, I’m more neutral on that. Do what you like, just tag it accordingly so people can blacklist if they don’t want to see meme content. Use a meme tag. I myself have a personal tumblr where I reblog all sorts of stuff, cuz tbh when I look at a blog I want to see stuff relating to the theme of the blog, not random ooc reblogs (been seeing a blog reblogging animals relating to their muse under a specific tag, I’d say that’s perf fine since it’s related, and there’s a tag that can be blacklisted if folks don’t wanna see it!).

But Yonder I want to talk to other people and jab about the stuff I like! How do I talk to others if I’m gonna clog up daily/ask content here? Fam I feel you. I talk bout myself all the time lmao. On my twitter, and in discord chats! Got twitter a year ago, It’s a perfect platform to get to know others better, and you can do memes there too! Nowadays when people talk to me via IM I redirect them to my twitter cuz it’s just easier for me. The formatting of twitter just makes it easier to start convos b/c everyone’s pretty much constantly making new convo starters you can respond to whenever. This is more of a personal note but I don’t really show my personality much here on my blogs so by looking through my twitter peeps’ll be able to better judge if we’ll get along!

Speaking of tagging: Abuse the tagging system! Got an ooc post? Tag it ooc! Got an art post? Use an art tag (you don’t have to, that’s getting fairly specific, but I do)! For example: I use the tag #out of park for my ooc posts. And specific mons are tagged as is too! So if someone wants to dig up a specific response they can via a species tag like #pangoro or w/e.

As a side note when people search up tags on tumblr, only the first 5 tags of any given post are put into those tumblr searches. If you want people to find your art tagged under #pkmnart or w/e, be sure it’s one of the first 5 tags in your post! This’ll make sure your content will be seen by more people who otherwise wouldn’t have seen it.

Have all info on a muse easily accessible (aka, a ref)! If I can’t find it within 5 clicks or so (this is relating to user interfaces in general on the web), I’m probably not gonna bother to dig around for it. Got other things to do fam, job, college, commissions, adult life n all that jazz. And we all know social media gives us terribly short attention spans lmao.

Clean up outdated material. Done with that meme you did a few days ago? Delete the prompt so it’s not cluttering your content. If you really wanna save those meme responses, make them into a private post, or compile them all in a draft and delete the original posts. It breaks my heart when I see a lovely blog, but I gotta dig through 10 meme prompts to see any actual content. I usually don’t follow a blog back if I see that.

This is a huge pet peeve of mine but Trim Ya Posts!! See this?

I’ll instantly unfollow if I see this. If you’re going to reblog something like this please, I implore you to 1) use ya personal blog homie, this really shouldn’t be on an ask/daily blog. 2) tag as #long post so that blacklist extension can do it’s magic. This extends to untrimmed rps. Xkit has extensions that allow for deleting the older replies in threads, so when you reblog something your followers aren’t seeing the same starter post for the 20th time.

What if I can’t get Xkit? Well, usually in that case the best alternative is to draw/make the reply and put a [previous post] link either above or below your reply! Trust me, your followers will thank you for it.

Some other tips:

Don’t use super bright colors for blog headers and themes. If them colors make my eyes hurt I’m avoiding it like the plague.  https://coolors.co/ is a great color palette generating site! How we perceive color varies from person to person but generally super saturated colors should be avoided for blog headers.

Don’t reblog 4 memes at once. It’s a bit much, at least to me;;

If someone’s taking requests and is asking for a reblogged ref, reply to the original post instead of making a giant thread of ref pics

People might be tearing into each other for w/e reason on your dash but honestly even if the people involved made it public don’t get mixed into it if it doesn’t involve you. Be mature and know when to mind your own business. 

Adding to this: talk about issues privately. Not everyone needs to know your beef with so-and-so unless they’re a threat to minors or they’re doing something undeniably nasty, ect.

Don’t gossip. Dude. You may not think so but we can tell who you’re vauging about. Just. Stop. Vent to a friend in private or something. 

Dumb anon bugging you? Just. Block em hun. Take a breather, they have no power over you. Just reply with  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ and move on. 

Communicate. If something someone does bugs you, talk to them privately. Vauging and gossiping does nothing to solve the problem except make it incredibly hard to discern what’s truth and what’s not in a situation.

Don’t force a friendship by saying “can we be friends?” It makes things incredibly awkward. You don’t become a friend with someone via request. The best friends I’ve made on here? I don’t even remember when or how we started talking, it just happened naturally.

Generally, peeps have an internet alias that isn’t their muse’s name. For example, my name is not Grovyle. My name is Yonder, and I don’t wish to be addressed as Grovyle as she is one of many fictional fabrications I have. She’s not my identity, not by a long-shot. I’ll only resort to using the muse/url I know them by to address someone if I literally have no other way to distinguish them in a chat.

Oneliners and incoherent sentence structure (not on part of the muse’s personalty but rather the person’s writing) on a regular basis in a response tend to make it very hard for people to reply or maintain interest. Though generally this applies more to text-based blogs where text is what people are coming to the blog for.

Ur all wonderful n I know many of you are new to this and I want you all to enjoy blogging and avoid the mistakes I made when I was a wee blogger back in 2013. Feel free to ask for clarification, I write this in an attempt to help things be more streamlined and easier for everyone in this community! And of course, I’m sure plenty of this is subjective on my part. 

Love y’all!