#this piece was incredibly experimental as you can probably tell

[kafus]

why dot & episode 41 of pokemon horizons means so much to me as a recovering social recluse

when i got into pokemon horizons i had no idea whatsoever that my favorite character would end up being dot, one of the best handled social recluse characters i've ever seen in a piece of media. pokemon places such a large focus on adventure and travel, meeting new people and pokemon, so really the idea of a respectfully handled social recluse character just didn't seem to fit in with the concept. but now that the environment travels with the characters in the form of an airship, dot was able to be created and my god i love her. as someone who's been a recluse most of my life, even as a child, (i would qualify as a hikikomori and/or NEET at different stages of my life!) who is slowly crawling out of that pit, dot means the world to me.

there's a lot of good episodes that have some level of focus on dot but episode 41 in particular really blew me away and for the sake of my autistic ass desperately wanting to tell people about it i'm going to explain that here in trademark rambling fashion. obviously spoilers ahead - though not just for episode 41, i'm also going to be talking about earlier episodes a little bit. you've been warned!! if you don't want spoilers don't read below the cut ty!!

so episode 41. we meet dot's mother as the viewer who is there to pick up dot from her "trial period" on the brave asagi, learn about how dot ended up on the airship in the first place, and then at the end dot gets to have a showdown against her mother's lycanroc essentially to prove that she wants to, and can, stay permanently on the rising volteccers crew instead of going home. this is a huge turning point in dot's development as a character - at first she was a complete unknown only audible through her bedroom door, irritable to anyone who tried to speak to her, then over the course of the show she's managed to make friends with liko and roy, become a pokemon trainer, enjoy food with other people for seemingly the first time, and even caught tinkatink on her own accord pretty recently. and now this episode allows her to say in her own words that she isn't just on the ship experimentally, or because of murdock, or any other reason - she is choosing to be there and is enjoying learning more about other people and experiencing the outside world. again, this is a huge leap for someone who refused to show her face to the main characters for the first half of the show!

this on its own is already a pretty admirable character arc, one i can relate to, but i am really impressed by & feel seen by the way the writing handles her and that's really apparent in this episode. first i'm going to focus on how the writing and characters in the show respect dot's feelings despite her introversion and reclusion here.

dot's mom (blanca) is introduced to us as incredibly overbearing, to the point of freaking out and sending a bunch of angry stickers when murdock and dot don't immediately respond to her messages. dot's first response to seeing her mom is frustration instead of any level of positive response or excitement, which implies they don't have the best history, even before she actually starts talking about her past. i'm not trying to make this a post about dot's family psychology, maybe another time, but similarly to liko her situation is a bit fucked lmao (though for opposite reasons!)

the thing is - the adults around her are ALSO uncomfortable, in particular murdock, blanca's brother, which conveys a lot about the situation. she's not just some stubborn kid, there's legitimacy to her feelings, because if there wasn't the mature figures in this situation probably wouldn't also be reacting negatively, especially not murdock, dot's other relative here. from incredibly personal experience, it is so easy to wave off the feelings of a child, especially one as "difficult" and reclusive as dot, as just being some sort of phase, but already the writers are directly contrasting murdock, an adult dot is comfortable with who treats her with patience and respect, with blanca, who she evidently is not comfortable with - and they're respecting her feelings by making the adults in the show respect her feelings, too. and they're about to do a whole lot more of contrasting her mother with Everyone and Everything Else!

dot is continued to be understood and respected by the people who know her best in the case of liko and roy choosing to approach her to talk first. dot has run off to her room, where she usually is to get away from people, a very clear sign that she's struggling. liko and roy recognize this and cut blanca off from making the situation worse. which, of course they would, they're her friends and they genuinely care about her and understand how she behaves! they even know how to get her to come out her room without banging on her door and continuously yelling or something like that - direct contrast to them struggling with this much earlier in the show, by the way.

dot is happy to see them and much more willing to talk pretty much immediately, because guess what, they're people who respect her space and her feelings!!!

and once again, when blanca tries to force dot to speak before she's ready to (i mean come on you literally jumped her with this massive thing out of nowhere), liko jumps in and cuts blanca off to defend her and once again respect her feelings in a way that blanca definitely is not.

and finally, when they end up having a pokemon battle with each other...

blanca says this, yet another invalidation of dot's feelings and the way she responds to situations. this line actually made me viscerally uncomfortable, i remember the bitterness and upset i felt when i was a young person and my feelings, especially my frustrations with my parents and the way they handled my introversion, were invalidated on account of my age. "oh, it's just a phase" or "it's just because you're a kid" - just so incredibly frustrating.

and you know what that's followed up with?

dot speaking her fucking mind and kicking her mom's ass baby!!!! get her ass!!! let's GOOO. this part of the episode is so fucking rewarding. it's so good to see this character who has grown so much finally stand up for herself. she still needed a little bit of a push but that's OKAY!! the important part is that she's doing it and the narrative recognizes that! having friends and loved ones to help you out is actually a very essential part of happiness and survival!

and before i delve too far into my personal feelings, i also want to talk about a second thing here; i just find dot's characterization really relatable, like i swear to god there's someone on the writing team who must have been a 12 year old autistic NEET or something. it's literally too fucking on point, it's uncanny, i swear there's times in horizons where dot is just a carbon copy of me when i was a preteen. i mean come on:

dot flopping face down into bed after being overwhelmed in an awkward social situation and being confronted with a situation she's been trying to ignore thus far... the amount of times i have done this in my life, holy shit.

the candidness in which dot speaks about being so interested in the outside world, but being unable to have those experiences for herself as simply a voyeur. the shot of her room being such a disaster because she rarely leaves it and stuff piles up in there, including food junk,

the way she spends all this time alone cultivating skills she's passionate about and then shrugs them off as "just something she likes" when an adult compliments her on her abilities, the contrast between her confidence in what she loves but her complete social awkwardness in talking to anyone about it,

her defining herself on the internet by being a homebody, hell even her cute little freakout about the streamer she likes noticing something she said,

waking up late and missing the activities of other people because her sleep schedule basically doesn't exist while she's at home,

even just her general body language of closing in on herself and holding onto something when she's nervous, hell even her clothing choices which are so obviously meant to be as comfortable as possible for her and easy to take on and off - i could go on forever even just with this episode alone but i think you get the point. i feel so seen by how dot is just in general and it's obvious from both the plot/writing and the way dot is portrayed and animated that the people making this show understand people like me, even the type of person i was as a child, too.

all of this means so much to me because like i said in the intro to this post, i was and still very much am a social recluse. i'm a homebody. even now i still rarely leave my room, i don't eat with family often, i struggle to do things in the "real world". growing up, repeated intrusions into my feelings and my life did not help me, they only made me whiplash further into feeling distant and not listened to by the people around me. they made me want to interact with real life less. finally, as an adult, when people started to give me a bit more space, when the ways i communicate began to be respected a little more, that is when i started making genuinely close and good friendships, that is when i began to venture outside of my room and partake in small joys with people, as a direct result of being given the space and time to do so, to have my own autonomy, to make my own decisions, to be myself. i think it's incredibly easy to see someone curling in onto themself and assume they need a fuckton of intrusive pushing, and sometimes they do need a little push, like how dot's quaxly pushes her to move forward in the moment sometimes, or how liko continuously tried to befriend her, but the important part is that by treading too far over her boundaries it is no longer a productive or respectful way of helping her - it's a balance, and a balance horizons always seems to get right, episode 41 included.

it really means so much to me to see dot's journey into coming out of her shell treated with so much respect by the writing and other characters. so often recluse characters are the butt of the joke, are pushed out of their comfort zones unrealistically fast, or never actually receive the support and growth they need - but horizons strikes the balance of being candid about the type of character dot is and giving respect and space to her feelings so she can grow at her own pace, but still giving her support and little pushes when she needs them, and showing that it's possible to grow and enjoy the real world, even as a recluse. it's refreshing, especially with a character who is a child, and a girl, too! i can count the amount of times i have found a young girl character i relate to at all on one hand, and dot is the best one i've ever seen, personally! horizons has been really inspiring to me to continue to cultivate my connections with others and continue to drag myself out of my shell at my own pace with people who love me, during a really chaotic and transitional part of my life and i really love it for that. i'm glad this episode exists for an infinite multitude of reasons but i really just wanted to talk about this specific aspect for a bit and how it relates back to me as a recovering recluse.

thanks for reading if you got this far jesus christ i talk a lot LOOOL. and i might talk more about my feelings on this episode or dot in general later. i have so much to say about likodot and also about the family dynamics in this show i'm practically eating thru drywall thinking about it rn

[biomic]

watched shinkenger and absolutely adored it, but as someone who grew up watching power rangers samurai it was kinda bizarre to experience. I've seen bits and pieces of other sentai shows and it seems like this is the only time (or one of the only times) its been translated so directly. why do you think that is? they didn't even follow goseiger nearly as directly with Megaforce as far as I can tell

the simplest answer is that samurai was an incredibly rushed production, as saban needed something ready for nickelodeon fast after reaquiring the brand from disney. being on a tight deadline like that doesn't leave much room for experimentation, so it was a lot easier to just translate scripts from shinkenger and burn through as much sentai footage as possible to cut filming time. if i wanted to be charitable i'd cut samurai some slack given the time constraints they were under, but that doesn't exactly account for the production not casting ANY japanese actors on a samurai-themed team, so.

beyond the deadlines though it doesn't help that the executive producer was jonathan tzachor, a lazy hack with absolutely bizarre priorities as a showrunner. he was actively hostile to writers suggesting ideas that wouldn't have even cost the production extra money, like the team playing video games in their spare time. people used to theorize he just "likes sentai so much he doesn't want to deviate from the material", but there's nothing to indicate that that's the case and it's fairly obvious he ran his shows this way because it's quick and cheap above all else

previous seasons like lightspeed rescue, time force, SPD, etc. stuck close to their original source material, because there's only so many times you can retrofit a space opera setting around high school/fantasy-themed seasons, but there was still a creative spark present that showed the production cared about what they were making and didn't want to just do a 1-to-1 copy. there's at least a few reasons why i could theoretically recommend someone watch both timeranger and time force, but i can't think of a single reason why i'd ever tell someone to check out samurai after shinkenger

as for megaforce, they were pretty much forced to change things around given that they were combining two shows into one and being heavily mandated to "make it like MMPR" for the anniversary, which just translated to watering everything down into the blandest possible version of power rangers. also, you know, "angels from heaven who blow shit up" probably doesn't fly on american children's television the way it does in japan (though the world would be a better place if it did)

[blysse-and-blunder]

 in lieu of a commonplace book

10pm sunday, jan 29, 2023

your gentle blogger has entered her next decade of life, thank you to @dying-suffering-french-stalkers and @redstar-winterorbit for the good birthday wishes last week!

reading not a ton if i'm honest, i've been deluged with gift books and library loans while at the same time crashing back into the semester, and the overall effect has been, uh, to freeze my recreational reading a bit. stuck trying to finish things like my audiobook of through the whispering door and ebook of maybe you should talk to somebody (have i talked about this one? it's a memoir of a therapist and reading it is like reading an episode of the gossip podcast, but i can also tell it's giving me occasional useful ideas and perspective on things to think about or ask for in therapy. but i can only take so much of it at once). the gift book i'm most into right now it lindsey ellis' axiom's end, which is a first-contact, aliens are real and the government has been hiding them scifi-- it's quick and readable, lindsey does a great job for a first novel, and i'm loving the alternate-history flavor of it being set in the Bush era and the southern california details i actually appreciate now. also the way the aliens are described, i love the design of them. beautiful and terrifying. but i haven't made progress in a few days.

through the whispering door is perplexing me right now, in that the gentle romance has developed pleasingly (predictably), but there's been a lot of talk about the main character 'having changed' and 'not being the same as he was when he arrived' and i can't actually. point to why or where that happened. this is part of the problem with me and audiobooks, i think, because i don't care enough to go back and re-listen to the parts where i tuned out.... there's been a new heightening of the stakes now that there's a time-limit, and i always like the flavor of an eldritch stag character.

EDIT: finished the monster baru cormorant, still recovering, immediately checked the third one out of the library though the psychic damage this series does to me without warning (dear seth: i'm taking away the word 'clotted' from your lexicon for a bit. also ‘lobotomy’.) is hard to rectify with how smart and good some of the new narrative details are. the introduction of ‘trim’ and its associated reliance on / trust in other people, to a story where the main character's stated weakness is thinking about things from others' perspectives? or anticipating others' reactions? chef's kiss. and the navy full of rugged, determined, salt-weathered women is just very good to me, personally. aminata my incredibly violent beloved. the end of this book was- devastating. not in the same way as the last one: this time i have the kind of fascinated-horrified-sickened-fixated feeling that i get about horror stuff sometimes, and i’d say body horror is what i expect from book three.

watching i got unlucky with weather-based flight cancellations last week, and spending a night in a random detroit hotel room created a great opportunity to check out my university's criterion collection access. for some reason i decided that this was the right moment to experience wong kar wai's in the mood for love (2000), which i have since finished in slightly calmer circumstances. despite knowing that tony leung and maggie cheung were both active in the 90s i somehow totally thought that this movie was like. actually a historic film and not a period piece? probably because of how much the visuals / how it’s shot and colored / the overall design feels so classic, feels like old school film in the best possible way. having now read the wikipedia page for this film i can tell i missed a lot of the actual plot, or rather, thought that there was more experimental / nonlinear story-telling going on than there might actually have been-- but that’s okay, it just means i’ll have to watch it again.

listening i don’t remember when this song first popped up in my spot ify, possibly on a discover weekly playlist a while ago? but it landed for me last week, somehow brand new and meaningful as i was contemplating the musical direction of my next playlist. listening to it with better headphones revealed lots of nice layers, depth and harmony, i like that bass throb under the chorus, it’s produced well and rewards paying attention to the extra stuff-- the contrary motion of the background vocal line in the opening to the chorus is nice.

something something i will get up regardless. currently repeating to myself, all you gotta do now is walk.

playing had the pleasure of hanging out with my Dnd friends on my birthday last week and playing a whole new style of game with them! Y introduced us to gloom, which is very Edward Gorey-core and therefore was delightful, and got our game-design nerds all excited about the cards themselves, and then K skunked us all at anomia. the adrenaline in this one is addictive? it is somehow so fun and yet so infuriating, and I have yet to regret suggesting it to a group or party.

making cleaned my room finally (somewhat) and have a stack of mail to send and cards to answer, now with the help of the beautiful fountain pen my roommates gave me for my birthday! It’s one of these, and while I can try to promise not to become a fountain pen nerd, time will tell…

working on this award letter for a prof is somehow the hardest thing to just fucking finish. I think because I want it to be better than just okay, and am worried that it’ll counteract its own message if it’s not? But also—I have palaeography homework now! and the abstract of a talk to finish, and that talk + associated chapter to outline! not to mention finishing reading and commenting on a friend’s chapters! taking it slow last week was nice and probably needed, but fuck.

[seal-fan]

I know a lot of people are disappointed in how sympathetic to Dream Tommy's ending was. But honestly I think the ending overall was definitely a repudiation of both Dream and Punz! Tommy and Tubbo achieve what they set out to do. It's bittersweet, because the ending provides hope that the situation could have been resolved peacefully, but the intention was always to prevent Dream and Punz from achieving their dream of immortality and immense power. Dream and Punz are killed and can't be revived. They lose.

And why does Dream lose? For one thing, he underestimated Tubbo. The disc finale makes it clear how little regard Dream had for Tubbo, and how he saw people as chess pieces in his pursuit of power. Dream's fatal flaw is that he doesn't really understand or care about most other people. He's self obsessed and above all can't tolerate losing and not having his way, and that results in his perspective being warped. Tommy is important because he resists Dream's authority consistently, and Dream believes that resistance needs to be broken. Tubbo isn't important because he doesn't provide that resistance, or anything that interests Dream personally. But he's wrong! Tubbo is a person with his own motivations, goals and desires just like Dream. And while he isn't a fighter like Dream, he is very talented at redstone technology. Dream doesn't seem to have any idea what's coming and I think this is because he didn't understand Tubbo at all or at least underestimated him very greatly.

Dream also loses because of the flaws in his mentality. He believes that the ends justify the means, so no matter what harm he inflicts to others, it doesn't matter. But the entire core of morality is that when you hurt people that's bad, and when you help people that's good. Obviously things aren't that simple, but by embracing the idea that it's okay to harm people for little reasons like experimentation or intimidation or even fun - depending on how cynically you view Dream's character - you throw away your humanity. And in the end, when you hurt people, it comes back to bite you! Dream is incredibly selfish and horrible to Tommy and Tubbo throughout the story and that directly leads to Tommy being willing to die to stop his plans. Burning bridges is a bad strategy because no matter how smart you think you are it is never possible to control all the variables. Dream and Punz plan to seize power on their own and ignore the motivations and desires of everyone else on the server, but things don't work out that way.

I also wanted to take some time to think about Punz's character because obviously there isn't that much there. But since he's also involved in murder and experimentation in pursuit of immortality, he probably believes Dream is the only person capable of understanding him. He clearly does care about power a LOT, and it makes sense from a self motivated perspective for him to revive Dream, but I also think that from the ending, Punz has grown attached to Dream. He defends their ideology and tells Tommy that he is Dream's friend directly. It's likely that after isolating himself for so long, Punz wanted connection deeply. Even if you try and reject things like society, morality and attachments, as long as you're human you need people to care about. Dream provides that for Punz.

But Dream pretty clearly doesn't care about Punz in the same way! He scribbles George's name on the walls. His motivation is to make things simple again, so he can live together with George and Sapnap. He's left them behind in his pursuit of power but those are still his connections, people he cares about the most. Obviously Sapnap is against Dream but from what Tommy said in the ending, George doesn't talk to Dream anymore either. When Punz asks if he is Dream's friend, Dream is silent. It's an awkward moment, but it makes sense. Punz is following Dream out of loyalty and a sense that Dream is the only person he has. But Dream is motivated out of a sense to return to simpler times, and is simply using messy means to get there which he doesn't seem all that happy about. Punz is what he has, but George is what he wants.

In other words, murder and torture isn't a great foundation for a relationship!

[theclo4ked1]

abnormally large paintbrush aura Sometime before last Sunday (was October 1st), I began a project that involved making a series of twelve 8"x10" oil paintings by using a limited amount of tubes colours; three, to be exact, to make each painting. Not only that, but an added challenge was that at least four of these paintings had to be done exclusively by palette knife, of which I lack a variety of, but nonetheless, I prevailed. Some of them are still life paintings, and the rest are abstract and imaginative. All the paintings are ordered by creation.

These two were made the same day when I initially started. It was a very Summer-themed beginning despite my intentions, more of a coincidence. The tree was the first one created, the first still life, the first done by palette knife -- lotta firsts, alright? It wasn't a bad start, but I definitely kicked it up a notch with the beach sunset beside it. I thoroughly enjoyed using the brush to create and blend the sky and the water. A few of the twelve, that one included, I feel I really tapped into my inner Bob Ross -- an alter ego named "Frob Boss", also coined that same day.

The next week, I made these three during the evening; that orange against a green backdrop and the geometric shapes one was an experimental use of masking tape, which I don't normally do, but that's the motif of this series: experimenting. One of my least favorites, unfortunately. Those two were done with the palette knife btw, and the umbrella was another still life (done by brush that time), I enjoyed doing it and worked late just trying to get some of the shading right.

Then came Sunday afternoon, where the next seven paintings come from. I was on a roll, lemme tell ya:

That cup of Black Tea was sketched (the only one sketched also) either the day before that Sunday or...thinking on it now, it probably was before; I'm remembering the harsh kitchen light on the cup and...yeah, yeah, I was eating a Caesar Salad with chicken (my favorite), so it was probably the night before. YES IT WAS BECAUSE well you don't need any more details--it was sketched Saturday, then painted Sunday. These three paintings were done with the palette knife, and the third one is something to talk about: my uncle, one of the last times we spent time together, told us about an artist whose painting was hung in an exhibition. The painting in question, as described by my uncle, was just pure oil on canvas. This story made me question what people really consider art, but all I could think about was the process ("pro-says") of how that piece came to be: did the artist just splash Linseed Oil on the canvas and said "yes this is my vision"? Or maybe something that seems incredibly simple to do meant something far deeper from the artist/the context that makes the art? In the end, my uncle's story came back to me, so I gave the "Linseed Oil only" a try for myself. What I hope you can see is a simple landscape with a few mountains, and the sun in a sky of clouds. It's very hard to see straightforward, but at an angle, even on a screen, it's just barely visible. Finally, the upside-down forest in the middle is a favorite because it will always remind me of one my favorite Daria episodes, Art Burn, the one where Jane makes all these counterfeit/replica paintings of old and classical artists so she can make money to pay to repair her family's "Naming Gazebo" (later revealed to be all unimportant and not actually what is said on the tin), which results in a continuous creators' block, and negatively affects her ability to make her own unique artwork. One of the moments in the episode, pre-Jane-burnout, is at the art fair, where she had a Van Gogh she hung right-side-up, but painted upside-down, which few people commented on. That moment in the episode came to me while painting the centre tree after I messed up the upper branches.

After reaching my palette knife quota, I joyously switched back to brush for the final paintings. Let it be known: the only brush -- the one brush I used was a Simply Simmons size 12 something-type. The second of my four so-called "landscape paintings" is this dreamy landscape inspired by a memorable game, NiGHTS Into Dreams. The floor-ceiling nature of the level design always stuck out to me as really cool and has become something of a trope in my recent works. The "green-hills-and-tulips-against-the-sky" is just another example. Beside that, the sunset over and Autumn forest was an ambitious one. Another "Frob Boss" moment, but someone thought it was pepperoni sticks, and I'm not sure what those are, but they sound delicious. There's been another dreamscape painting I've wanted to make for a little over a year now. A story for another time...

Alright, the final two. Who dat on tha left? That's me: a self portrait (face reveal lolwut???) I decided to do after looking at my reflection in the night window. It lacks the eyebags I had at the time, but my facial hair is arguably the best part, but you wouldn't know that. Someone commented on how it looked sad. Little did they know, I was just tired. Last but not least, a simple apple. This, of all pieces, was NOT a still life, and I think that says something about me; my visual of apples is so strong likely because I eat them all the damn time, which also means I have to look at them too because I hold them, wash them, cut them, and again, eat them, so naturally, I would have a greater deal of knowledge of how to create an artistic rendering on an apple such as this. Somebody said the apple looked like it was rotting, which wasn't my intention, but I can see how. At the time of painting, I didn't think anything of it, but this apple is probably Honeycrisp, my favorite.

HA-HAHA! HA-HAHA-HAHA! I LIED, THERE'S THIS ONE EXTRA PIECE I MADE! See, I did a miscount and made this thirteenth without paying attention to how many I did up to that point. I could've stopped at the apple if was more attentive before opening more canvas packages. I'll admit, this is the worst one in this series. I think it lacks creativity and heart. As tired as I was, I don't know how I pulled of the last seven. This hot air balloon over the wood(s)...I'm glad I ran out of ideas here, yet I'm also glad I made it so I have something to look back to, as I do with all things of my past; so that I have a story to tell.

Even though I rushed the final eight, I still had a nice time doing this project, and what helped me a ton were the canvases since so small compared to what I used to work with. It gave me some kind of clarity in experimentation. After the twelfth (I think), I came to realize "damn, I never thought about how ranged my painting style is". However, I believe this is only due to acting on impulse rather than a calculated, meticulous piece of artwork. Or maybe that's is what defines someone's art style: acting on impulse and creating something with such uniqueness, it could only be identified as YOU. Thanks for reading!

[literallyjustanerd]

Okay okay I've had ideas bouncing around in my head like ping pong balls since the trailer dropped, and I keep changing my mind SO

Here's where I am right now

I'm excited for where this season is going. This show has had such a good tone so far, the quiet foreboding feeling of everything coming to an end, and I'm hopeful the conclusion will thread the needle of preserving that sombre tone without being too devastating.

If we're talking specifics, I'm excited for:

Crosshair back with his brothers!! They made no attempt to hide this in the trailers which makes me confident that we'll see it in the 3 episode premiere

More exploration of the clone rebellion. This is honestly the most interesting part of the whole show for me, and I am incredibly excited to see where it goes, and maybe even how it ends

Clone X! Look, I've never really liked fake-out deaths as a writing trope, so I would almost have preferred (as tragic as it is) that Tech actually be dead, but after reading @heyclickadee 's very insightful post I think I'm of the opinion that Clone X is likely Tech. These shots are, as the post says, very clearly meant to be Tech speculation bait, and I think for that to end with Clone X not being Tech would be anti-climactic. Which brings me to...

Imperial Tech! Incredibly efficient, horrifyingly competent Imperial Tech! Who knows where Pabu is! Who knows his brothers and all their strategies like the back of his hand! If it happens, it's going to hurt! And I'm excited for it!

Wolffe!!!! Oh god he's going to be so angsty. If I don't get a sad, broken Wolffe thinking about how he shot down his dad Jedi general, I will be so disappointed

What I'm worried for:

There's a frighteningly little amount of Echo in the trailer. Where is my boy and what is he doing. TBB writing team I am in your walls.

Threads will be insufficiently wrapped up. There's a lot of storylines being juggled in this series and at least one of those balls is going to be dropped. But hey, that's what fic is for, right?

An ending that's too "neat" - as much as an "everyone retires to Pabu and lives happily ever after" ending would be comforting, it would not feel authentic to this world at all. Sure, Star Wars as a whole is about hope, but let's face it, that's never applied to the clones without a catch. Tragedy follows these boys everywhere, and the ending of TCW tells you everything you need to know about their fates. I want an ending that's satisfying and feels right for the atmosphere they've created. And, at the risk of sounding masochistic (again), I kinda want that ending to hurt at least a little.

Selfishly, I'm worried we won't see Cody again. Again, I don't need a happily ever after, I just need to know he got to taste freedom from the Empire after going AWOL. You can kill him off, it's fine, I can handle it (I lied) but I just want at least a MENTION of what he did after leaving the Empire.

Other random predictions:

This is it for the clones. This feels like a last hurrah, and I don't see us getting any real clone content after this. I'm sad about that, of course, but I'm a strong believer in quitting while you're ahead with TV shows, and if this series ends on a high note, it'll be a good send-off for the clones

A broad Imperial plan to get rid of all the clones. They'd be seen as a liability as more and more of them turn on the Empire, and I can see a plan to wipe them all out. The clone experimentation on Mount Tantiss opens up a lot of really scary opportunities for some messed-up shit to happen to the clones. I'm both scared and excited to find out where they go with it.

Series ends with a flash forward to Omega in the sequel era. Probably wearing pieces of Hunter's armour, or something inspired by it, or at least something with a skull on it. And I'll cry. She'll probably be fighting for the Resistance and take every opportunity she can to talk about the clones so they're remembered

Someone will die and stay dead. It just feels like that's where it's going. Either it's Echo (I can't see him not following Rex to Seelos) or Wrecker (the finale episode title "The Cavalry Has Arrived" scares me)

This is just what I'm feeling for now and will probably change in 5 minutes, but no matter what happens I'm extremely excited!!

What are all your hopes/fears/predictions for what's coming??? I could talk about this literally forever

ok y’all, it’s been a few days, i think we’ve had time to process and (over)analyze and collect our thoughts.

excitements/worries/overall thoughts on the bad batch season 3 trailer?

anyone is allowed to jump in. this is discussion time ! :)

[superbattrash]

Bruclark Week Day 7: Free Space

Alternative title: The Unspoken Thing

WE DID IIIIIIIIT AND ON TIME TOO. Dear God, remind me to plan stuff like this better next time, alright? Anyway, here’s that merbruce thing I was going to write. It’s loosely based on a piece of art by @katsuyacrimson​ - I’ve been graciously allowed to post the picture with my fic. The art is at the end :)

Bruce’s tail is amazing. It’s an odd mixture of purple and iridescent; so large that the fins could probably cover a small child if Bruce wanted to. Not that he has that kind of control yet obviously, seeing as he’s been a mermaid for less than five minutes at this point. Still, Clark can’t help but stare as Bruce moves the huge tail around experimentally; like he’s trying to get a feel for it despite it being a part of himself. The blues in his tail become visible when he moves it, and they complement his eyes so beautifully. Some are warm, some colder. Some almost violet while others are bright blue, so light they can almost rival Bruce’s eyes in beauty. Almost.

Clark watches as Bruce holds up a hand – his fingertips replaced with sharp little claw-like tips, purple and scale-y just like his tail. So far that’s the only parts of him that have changed but judging from the way his jaw is tightening by the second, it’s more than enough.

He does look rather strange with half the batsuit on and the only exposed parts of him – except his face – being brightly colored. Purple does suit the darkness of the batsuit though, Clark thinks. Not that that’s what he should be focusing on right now, and he is most certainly not going to tell Bruce that that’s what he’s thinking about. He quickly lands on the ground next to Bruce and crouches down. It’s odd, having to sit down to look Bruce in the eyes.

“I’m sorry, I am so sorry,” Clark exclaims for what feels like the hundredths time in the last thirty minutes. He really should have been faster, should have protected Bruce somehow. He’s supposed to be the strong, invulnerable one.

“You’re just as susceptible to magic as the rest of us,” Bruce mutters like that’s an excuse. It sort of is but not a very good one.

“Yes, but-” Clark feels incredibly guilty despite Bruce having thrown himself in front of the beam of his own volition. It doesn’t make him feel any better that Bruce would sacrifice himself for Clark, believe it or not. There’s a reason Superman is on the team. He can handle himself and take a hit.

“Kal, just-” Bruce takes a deep breath and nearly pokes a lens out of his cowl when he tries to pinch the bridge of his nose with his mer-claws. He drops both arms in his lap. Or, where his lap is supposed to be. Is it still called a lap if it’s on a tail? “Shut up.”

“I didn’t see her in time,” Clark explains. He tries to go on but Bruce speaks over him.

“I know, would you just-” Bruce sighs exasperatedly. He’s clearly trying very hard to be patient with Clark, which is nice of him. Too bad it doesn’t make Clark feel any better. “Just go home, alright?”

“I can’t leave you like this,” Clark argues. There is no way he’s leaving Bruce stranded in Metropolis stuck in mermaid form. He wouldn’t leave him even if he still had his own two feet.

“I’ll be fine,” Bruce insists even as he wiggles around to get his tail situated in a way that lets him sit up straight.

Once again, Clark will never voice any of his thoughts out loud. At least not the quieter ones, hiding behind his worry and guilt. It’s just so weird seeing Bruce uncoordinated like this. He’s swaying back and forth like he can’t quite keep his balance.

“How will you even get home?” Clark asks, trying his best not to stare too long at Bruce’s beautiful tail. He’s not doing a very good job of it.

“I’ll figure it out,” Bruce says with an odd shrug. He nearly tilts with the movement. Sitting on a tail is apparently much different than how Bruce usually sits. Which isn’t much when he’s out as Batman.

“Can you even survive outside of water?” Clark bursts out. He knows it’s a stupid question and that he should probably just let Bruce be, but it isn’t in his nature to leave his friends behind. Especially when that friend is Bruce. Clark has never actually had much contact with mermaids but he’s the best Bruce has got right now. Arthur isn’t with them on this mission, which in hindsight is a big mistake, but Hal has already contacted him.  

“Kal,” Bruce says. His voice jolts Clark out of his muddled thoughts.

“What?”

“I’m a mermaid, not an actual fish,” he reminds him. There’s a hint of amusement in Bruce’s voice which is a good sign. He doesn’t usually take the time to laugh at Clark on missions unless he feels safe enough to do so. He shifts on the ground and is back to his usual stern self in less than five seconds though.

“I know,” Clark says. “But-”

“I am talking to you like I’ve always done, Kal,” Bruce says and this time there’s a tinge of annoyance to his voice. “I am still me, just with more-” He looks down at the shimmering purple tail occupying the space where his legs are supposed to be. “Tail,” he ends awkwardly.

“I know.” Clark bites his cheek as he thinks. He doesn’t want to cause Bruce anymore trouble, but he still feels like he needs to help in some way. “What can I do?”

“Just find the witch,” Bruce says.

“I will,” Clark promises with all the conviction he can manage. He’ll look through the entire galaxy if need be. Although he’s pretty sure Diana must’ve caught up to her by now. There’s no way that witch could’ve outrun Wonder Woman.

“I know,” Bruce says and his lips twitch like he wants to smile reassuringly at Clark. It might just be his imagination though.

“Call me if you need me, okay?” Clark says one last time before he stands. He’s not planning on going home until he knows what happened to the witch.

Bruce grunts, which is the closest to a confirmation he’ll give Clark.

--

Four days. It takes four days for someone to reach out to Clark. It’s obviously not Bruce himself who calls, he’s way too stubborn. It wouldn’t be so bad if only he’d had something else to keep his mind occupied but the rest of the League has it covered. Clark caught up with Diana fast enough, but it turned out that the witch did outrun her, which had to be a first for the princess. Not to worry though, Diana has a plan to catch her and sent Clark home. He was of course happy that she knew what to do, but a little disappointed that there’s nothing he can actively do to help her out.

Which is why he’s thrilled to get the call four days later, even if he’s a little concerned that he hasn’t heard anything in from Bruce in four whole days. It’s not like they text every day or anything (well, Clark texts Bruce silly images and updates of his day, which Bruce responds to about half the time), but he’s used to seeing Bruce often. What with his situation he hasn’t even been able to go out as himself, much less as Batman.

Alfred is too dignified to call Clark’s name (the image of Alfred calling “Master Kent” from the balcony makes Clark smile though), despite knowing that Clark would hear him and instead does the rational thing and calls his phone. How Alfred got his number Clark doesn’t know, but he suspects one of the kids might have given it to him. He doesn’t mind, he’s just happy someone called him. He’s been worried sick.

“Master Kent,” Alfred greets him when he arrives at the manor.

“Alfred,” Clark says warmly. It’s always nice being invited into Bruce’s home although he wishes the circumstances were different. He likes it way better when it’s just him, Alfred and Bruce having dinner. Or in reality it’s just Alfred making them dinner and then leaving them to converse amongst themselves. Clark likes spending time with Bruce either way. He’s missed him a lot these past few days. “Good to see you, how are you?”

“I’ve seen better days,” Alfred says honestly but vaguely enough that it feels rude to ask more questions. “And you, sir?”

“I’m alright. Worried about Bruce though. Is he here?” Clark asks despite being able to tell exactly where Bruce is from his heartbeat alone. It’s not like he chooses to listen for it, it’s more habit than anything.

“Very much so,” Alfred nods towards the stairs that lead up to Bruce’s bedroom. “He’s upstairs, sulking.”

“How did you get him up the stairs?” Clark can’t help but ask. He’s not sure who ended up taking Bruce home, but there’s no way he’s crawled up those stairs even if he is ridiculously strong.

“I bribed Master Jason after Master Bruce was knocked unconscious,” Alfred says conversationally. Like it’s a thing that happens often. Clark knows better than to comment on it.

“With what?” Nothing seems to be able to convince Jason to do anything, although if anyone can make Jason do something, it would be Alfred.

“Knocking Master Bruce unconscious,” Alfred says simply.

“Oh.” Yeah, that’ll do it. Clark feels bad for Bruce though. “Is he alright?”

“I wouldn’t call you if all he needed was company, Master Kent. I know you’re a busy man.”

“Oh no, I don’t mind,” Clark is quick to reassure. “I was just wondering what I can do to help.”

“You can make sure he’s still alive in there,” Alfred says and it’s the first time he’s sounded irritated through the whole conversation. Irritated, but also worried.

“What do you mean?” Clark asks.

“He looks like a neanderthal, Master Kent, and he hasn’t come out of his room in several days. He’s not eating, and I doubt he’s able to shower by himself.” Alfred follows him up the stairs.

“Oh, that’s, uh.” Clark doesn’t really know what to say to that. He’s quite sure Bruce wouldn’t want a helping hand taking a shower – much less Clark’s helping hand. There’s this… unspoken thing between them. They’re not supposed to act on it. At least that’s what he’s gathered from Bruce’s grunts and side-glances.

“I cannot carry him myself or I would’ve forced him out already,” Alfred explains. “Never mind the fact that Master Bruce won’t let anyone into his room.”

“Ah, got it.” This Clark can do. This he’s basically made for.

They stop outside Bruce’s bedroom but judging from his heartbeat he hasn’t heard them approaching. He doesn’t sound agitated per se, but there is definitely something off about him.

“He’s locked you out?” Clark asks after he’s jostled the handle.

“Yes.”

“There’s no extra key?” It doesn’t sound like Alfred to give up so easily. Clark knows for a fact that all of Bruce’s children (and Alfred) know how to pick a lock. His own apartment has been the victim of their skills more than once.

“I’m afraid he’s taken them with him. All seven.”

“And?” Clark asks because he knows there’s more to it than that.

“He’s jammed the door from the inside,” Alfred sighs.  

“Ah,” Clark says before looking through the wood to see the chair Bruce has shoved underneath the handle. “Are you very fond of this door?”

“Have at it,” Alfred says with an elegant swoosh of his hand. “But do mind the handle, please. It’s original.”

It’s not exactly hard to break a door when you’ve got Clark’s strength, but the manor does have a very sturdy interior. Clark makes sure to merely knock it off its hinges gently. Or, as gently as one can anyway. He’s pretty sure he’s ruined the chair that was in the way though. Alfred doesn’t seem to mind.

“Best of luck,” he says before leaving Clark to it.

Clark looks around the room. Nothing seems out of place, except for the broken chair and the door in his hands. He rests it gently against the wall; still covering most of the doorway.

“Bruce,” he calls. He knows better than to simply appear by Bruce’s side if he’s barricaded himself in his bedroom. Something must be really wrong.

“What do you want?” Bruce’s speech is slurred and coming from the bathroom. It’s no surprise to him that Clark is here which Clark isn’t sure is a good or bad thing.

“Alfred is worried about you,” he calls out as he approaches the bathroom door. He really hopes he doesn’t have to break this one down. “I am too. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Go away,” Bruce says. There’s movement on the other side of the door; sounds of water moving around. Maybe Bruce has finally decided to try for a shower?

“Bruce, come on,” Clark tries. He doesn’t look through the door in case Bruce really is in the shower but he’s very tempted. Just to make sure Bruce is alright, of course. “Alfred says you’re not eating.”

“I said I’m fine,” comes Bruce’s gruff answer.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Clark says as he makes the decision to ignore Bruce’s personal space. It’s not like it’s the first time anyway. “I’m coming in.”

“Clark, wait, no-”

Clark opens the bathroom door (and is silently glad it wasn’t locked) and steps inside. It smells odd in the room, not unpleasant, but not how it usually smells. Not how Bruce usually smells. Clark looks to the shower but that’s not where Bruce is. He’s in the tub.

And he looks horrible.

No, not horrible, Bruce always looks stunning, but he looks exhausted and like he hasn’t slept in days. Alfred is right; the – from what Clark can tell – four days old stubble on his face is slowly turning into a full-blown beard and it somehow makes him look older than he is when combined with the dark circles under his eyes. There’s water in the tub but barely enough to cover his tail as it lays curled around him. It looks like it’s grown – or spread at the very least. More of Bruce’s waist is covered in scales and he’s even started turning purple near his temples and ears.

“Oh, Bruce,” Clark says, despite knowing how much Bruce hates being pitied. “What happened?”

“It keeps getting worse,” Bruce mutters. He’s keeping his hands under the water, but Clark suspects the scales on his fingers have spread as well.

“And the eating?”

“I can’t hold anything with these damn claws,” he says and finally holds up his hands. It’s not nearly as bad as Clark had anticipated but he can see how it would be tough to hold onto a fork or even a spoon with the slippery scales covering his fingers.

“Why not just ask Alfred to-”

“To what? Feed me?” Bruce interrupts bitterly. “He’s done enough already; I can’t ask him to do that. I can’t ask anyone to do that.”

“Okay, alright, I get it,” Clark says gently but firmly. There’s no reason to push the issue right now. “I’m here now though, so what do you need? What can I do?”

Bruce is quiet for a while and then sighs heavily. Even he’s not stubborn enough to refuse help after what looks like four days in his own tub. His ribs are poking out more than usual and he looks pale where he’s still got human skin.

“I need fresh water, but I can’t turn the knob,” Bruce mutters. “My skin- scales- the tail gets irritated if I’m not in water.”

“Alright, let’s start there,” Clark says.

It takes a little maneuvering, but they manage to move Bruce’s tail from the drain enough that they can let the water out. Bruce can lift the appendix himself now, but it takes a lot of effort, and he looks like he’s about ready to fall over so Clark carefully lifts most of it for him. As soon as the water is out Clark plugs the drain again and opens the faucet.

“Hot or cold?” he asks as he holds a hand under the spray.

“Hot,” Bruce says quietly. He’s huddled together and it makes Clark’s heart ache. Bruce is usually so confident, but he’s been stuck in his bathroom, clearly embarrassed to be seen. How has he even managed to sleep if he’s been in the tub all these days?

Clark fills the tub as much as he dares, making sure it doesn’t splash over the edges even if Bruce moves around.

“Alright,” Clark says as he dries his hands on his pants. “Next up is food. Anything particular you’re in the mood for?”

“Something soft,” Bruce says. He’s scrunching up his nose like the thought of food is making him ill. “My teeth hurt.”

“Your teeth?” Clark stops in the doorway to look at Bruce. He can’t help but x-ray him quickly but there doesn’t seem to be something wrong with his teeth at all. Bruce has excellent teeth. When he looks up again, Bruce is glaring at him. “Right, sorry, something soft, coming right up.”

Alfred is thrilled that Clark not only got Bruce to talk to him but also managed to find a way to make him eat. Something soft is easier said than done but Alfred knows Bruce better than anybody and he’s the fastest cook Clark has ever seen. He’s made a tomato soup by the time they’re finished talking about how Bruce is doing. He hands Clark a small piece of bread as well, because “He can’t survive off liquids, that silly boy.”

It's clear as day that Alfred is worried, but he seems calmer now that Bruce has agreed to eat something. Now the question is how Clark is going to have Bruce actually eat the soup? He takes the tray Alfred has made ready and goes back to the bathroom, where Bruce is resting his chin on the edge of the tub. He looks like he’s about five minutes away from falling asleep, but he bolts upright when Clark enters the room.

“Tomato soup,” he says as he eyes the bowl.

“With bread,” Clark says with a smile as he holds up the small roll. Bruce stares at it like he could eat it straight out of Clark’s hand. Hmm. “Alright, I know you’re going to say no-”

“So don’t say whatever it is you want to say.”

“Shush,” Clark huffs. “I know you’re going to say no, but this is how we’re going to do this, okay? I’ll hold the spoon all you have to do is eat. Are your teeth so bad you can’t swallow?”

“I swallow just fine,” Bruce says and there’s a hint of a smirk on his face that has Clark feel a little faint. It’s that unspoken thing again.

“Alright, okay,” he says and clears his throat. “I’m not going to make you say ahh unless you want me to do the airplane thing.”

“Shut up,” Bruce huffs but obediently opens his mouth when Clark holds the spoon out towards him. He wraps his lips around the spoon and moans.

Clark nearly drops the spoon at the sound. He plays it off as well as he can, but of course Bruce notices. He always notices everything. It’s not like he can blame Bruce for enjoying the first proper meal he’s had in days.

Clark thought it might be odd or awkward to feed Bruce, but they’ve known each other for years and years. They’ve been stuck on alien planets together, fought aliens and super villains. They’ve even had to bandage each other’s wounds, for God’s sake. It’s not like Bruce is eating the soup off of Clark’s naked body.

He really does drop the spoon when that thought runs through his mind.

Bruce sends him a quizzical look but doesn’t comment on it. It’s not like they can’t rinse the spoons off; they’ve got plenty of water nearby. It’s when it comes to the bread that Clark really starts to struggle.

It’s not the whole dipping the bread in what’s left of the soup, it’s the fact that there’s nothing between Clark’s hand and Bruce’s mouth now. He has to breathe through his mouth and pretend like he doesn’t feel his fingers tingle where Bruce’s lips grace them as he bites at the bread. He’s being awfully nice about this whole thing, but Clark suspects he’s just trying to make it as easy on Clark as he can.

There’s no way to explain the flutter in Clark’s stomach those few times Bruce’s tongue accidentally touches his skin. God, he really needs to get it together. When the last piece of bread is gone, he feels both relieved and disappointed. He’s not going to look closer at those feelings right now. First, he has to take care of Bruce.

“Okay,” Clark says, trying very hard to ignore how breathless he sounds. “Next is the beard.”

“What?”

“Alfred isn’t a fan.”

“I’m not surprised,” Bruce shrugs. “It makes me look like my father when was too busy to take proper care of himself.”

“Good to know it’s in your blood,” Clark comments as he puts the bowl and spoon back on the tray. “Now, how do you want to do this?”

“By myself but that’s not really an option,” Bruce grumbles.

“No, it is not,” Clark agrees. “So stop sulking and lean your head back so I can reach your neck.”

It’s not been on Clark’s yearly bingo card that he gets to shave Bruce’s face but he’s not complaining. Or at least he isn’t until he actually has to do it. Even if he hovers in the air, he can’t get the right angle without making Bruce sit in a painful or at the very least awkward position. He can’t very well ask Bruce to leave the tub either even if that would make this easier.

“I can’t really-” he tries. “This isn’t going to work if I can’t- um.”

“Spit it out, Clark,” Bruce says, and Clark does his very best not to look at how his Adam’s apple moves when he speaks. His neck looks so long like this, exposed and vulnerable.

“Can I sit in the tub with you?” Clark asks before he can think too much about it.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s just that I think it’ll be a lot easier seeing as you’re more comfortable in water and there isn’t really room for your tail anywhere else and I can’t really- I can’t reach you properly any other way.” He really hopes he sounds more confident than he feels.

“Hm,” Bruce grunts, which... isn’t a rejection. And then Bruce scoots forward in the tub, making room for Clark to sit behind him.

Clark gapes but only for less than a second. Then he strips off his shirt and pants. At Bruce’s raised eyebrow Clark merely smiles. He’s not going to get naked, but he also doesn’t want to leave in soaking clothes. He steps over the edge of the tub and shuffles around until he can sit comfortably behind Bruce. It’s a good thing his tub is so ginormous.

It’s intimate. Odd but not unpleasant. Clark never thought he’d be able to do this, to be this close to Bruce. There’s obviously a reasonable excuse for it now but he still wouldn’t have thought Bruce would allow him to do this; to help like this.

Clark doesn’t actually shave much, himself. He has his heat vision, and he knows how to use it. There’s been a few times where he’s had to use a razor though and he’s happy for the practice now that he has to hold a blade so close to Bruce’s neck.

Bruce, on his part, doesn’t seem to mind at all. His heartrate is steady, his body calm. There’s no physical sign that he’s reacting to their close proximity which leaves Clark both relieved and a little disappointed. It’s the theme of his feelings today, it seems.

“Is this alright?” he asks, because despite being able to read Bruce’s physical response, he still wants to make sure Bruce is comfortable. Or as comfortable as he can be with Clark pressed up against him.

“Yea,” Bruce says softly. “Yes, it’s- it’s fine.”

There’s slight skip to his heartbeat and Clark frowns slightly. He’s not a lie detector; there are many reasons why people’s hearts skip a beat. Embarrassment, excitement, even rage. There’s no one clear answer to explain it, and yet… Bruce’s heart never skips a beat. It races in the heat of a fight; it slows when he (seldomly) rests, but it doesn’t skip.

There’s no way to comment on it without a) overstepping the boundaries Bruce has set about personal space (the mental kind, the physical can’t really be respected right now) or b) sounding like a creep, so Clark settles back and ignores it. Mostly ignores it.

He lathers up Bruce’s face gently – which he probably could’ve done himself, but there’s no way Clark will let him try if it ends up with those mer-claws piercing his skin. Bruce may have many scars, but he doesn’t need to add facial ones to the collection. He’s got enough everywhere else. Clark bites his lip as he carefully makes sure Bruce’s neck and chin are covered before he moves onto his cheeks. The hairs catch on his skin, but Bruce doesn’t seem to mind the slight pull at his face.

Clark’s hand is steady as he slides the razor over Bruce’s skin. He barely presses down; doesn’t have to with such an expensive razor. He rinses it in the water and mentally makes a note to change it again when they’re done. He wonders if the pool Bruce uses to swim laps would be more comfortable for him. Bruce might need to stay in water for several more days; there has to be a better way to do this; the tub may work for shaving but for sleeping? He’ll have to have someone looking over him constantly.

There’s another skip in Bruce’s heartbeat and then: “I never thought I’d willingly let you this close with a blade.”

“Neither did I if I’m honest,” Clark says. He waits a beat or two, carefully gliding the razor over Bruce’s skin. “I’m glad you did though.”

Bruce turns his head as Clark rinses the razor. His eyes catch Clark’s.

“So am I,” he says quietly. He’s staring at Clark like he’s trying to see through him. His nostrils flare and there’s a faint purple shine in his eyes. Clark wonders if it’s always been there and he’s just never noticed or if this is part of the mer-curse. “I’ll give you a scalp massage as a thank you,” Clark offers just to keep the mood light.

Bruce chuckles and they settle in comfortable silence as Clark works.

He finishes shaving Bruce’s face and neck, careful not to cut him. He rinses the razor once more and then puts it on the edge of the tub. He’s just about to reach for Bruce’s face again with the warm washcloth when Bruce flinches.

Bruce lets out a soft sound and starts shivering. Not even a second later he groans quietly and Clark stops moving all together.

“What? What’s happening? Did I hurt you?” Clark asks worriedly.

“No, I- I don’t know what’s happening,” Bruce mutters but he’s staring down at his tail.

“Happening?” Clark echoes and moves around so he can see what Bruce is talking about. “What- oh.” Clark’s face feels like it’s on fire as he looks at… he’s not even sure what it is he’s looking at, but underneath Bruce’s navel, in the scales of his tail, a small opening has appeared. It seems to be throbbing in time with Bruce’s pulse and it looks wet and warm and-

“Jesus-”

“That, uh,” Clark stutters. “It looks like-”

“I know what it looks like,” Bruce bites and twists away as much as he can when they’re pressed against each other. “Stop staring at it!”

“I’m sorry.” Clark turns his head upwards to stare at the ceiling. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” Bruce hisses. He’s doing some of his breathing exercises, but they don’t seem to be working. After a minute or two Bruce huffs in frustration. “I need you to leave.”

“What?” Clark asks and forgets to keep his head turned. “Why?”

“I just-” Bruce’s nostrils flare again, and he seems to flinch back from Clark as his skin flushes all the way down to his chest. “I need you to not be near me for a while.”

“But Bruce-”

“I’m not-” Bruce interrupts. He closes his eyes and breathes very slowly through his mouth. “I’m not asking you leave the house, okay? Just this room, just for a little while.”

“Oh.” Clark flushes a little at how relieved he feels. “Okay.”

It’s awkward, stepping out of the tub and going back out to Bruce’s bedroom, but mostly because Clark doesn’t know what he did wrong or what’s happening with Bruce.

Bruce keeps his word and calls out for Clark softly fifteen minutes later. He seems to have calmed down and the opening or whatever it was - not that Clark is looking for it! - is gone as well. Clark isn’t an expert in mermaid anatomy and he’s not going to ask Bruce about it after the reaction he had, but he has an inkling. It’s not something he’ll ever bring up unless Bruce does, but… he can keep that thought for himself. That feeling.

Despite their rather awkward and abrupt shower session Bruce is more than willing to let Clark stay at the manor. Clark is pretty sure it’s because he’s horrified to let his children see him like this and now that he’s already let Clark in, it’s easier to accept his help. Either way Clark is happy to stay and help out. Especially as the days pass and they still haven’t heard anything cure-related from Diana.

It seems the curse is worse than they originally thought. The more time goes by the more mermaid Bruce becomes. His teeth are soon too long for him to speak around them properly (it seems that’s why they were hurting); Clark wipes blood off his chin every time he tries because he keeps piercing through his own lip. The scales spread from his fingertips up his hands, all the way to his elbows.

The third day Clark is with him, Bruce stops trying to talk. Clark assumes it’s the teeth but when Bruce opens his mouth to answer a question Alfred asks by pure instinct, he hears why Bruce has stopped talking. Because he can’t. All that gets past his lips are small chirps and low humming. Bruce looks horrified and Alfred looks scared. This can’t be good.

By the fifth day Clark is done waiting. He’ll find Diana and figure out what’s going on. Bruce has to have help. Now. He spends more time under water in the tub than he does above and it’s worrying both to Clark and Bruce’s family. Even Jason has stopped by the manor to poke his head in and stare at Bruce. No rude comment or anything, which says something about how worried he is.

Clark finds Diana fairly easy; she’s at the Watchtower with J’onn and Wally. He’s been too wound up to search properly for her, even with knowing her strong heartbeat, so he has no doubt that he’s wasted time looking for her. He should’ve simply sent her a message, but he’s been too preoccupied keeping track of Bruce’s heartbeat since he left the manor. Clark doesn’t mean to sound accusing but he can see on their faces that he must have spoken rather roughly when greeting them. He swallows and tries again.

“My apologies,” he says. “I just- have we found the witch yet?”

“Yes,” J’onn says. He must sense Clark’s urgency.

“She was half Atlantean,” Diana supplies. “I needed Arthur’s assistance in catching her.”

“And?” Clark presses. “What did you find out?”

“We already sent Batsy the cure, Big Blue,” Wally says helpfully. “Arthur should’ve been by Bruce’s house like an hour ago.”

An hour ago. Clark would slam his head against a wall if he wasn’t sure he would break it before knocking his own brain into a working spot. He thanks them quickly before making the trip back to the manor. Has he really wasted so much time that he missed Arthur’s visit or was he simply too panicked to notice him arriving? He can’t be sure, and he doesn’t have the patience to figure it out. He needs to get back to Bruce.

Clark finds the entirety of the bat family in Bruce’s bedroom. They’re all talking amongst themselves; it’s happy chatter so Clark is hopeful. He enters just as Bruce walks out of the bathroom. Walks. On his two legs.

“Well, that’s better,” Bruce says as he pulls the shirt over his head. His eyes instantly fall on Clark. “How do I look?”

“Incredible,” is the first thing in Clark’s brain and he somehow forgets to catch it before it exits his mouth.

“Huh,” Bruce says with a slight nod of his head. “Does that mean you’re willing to share another bath with me even without my tail?”

“Oh, yuck,” someone says – sounds like Jason, but he’s not supposed to be here, is he?

It may just as well have been Tim or even Dick; Clark can’t focus on anything but Bruce and the words he’s almost certain Bruce just said. It can’t be right though, can it? Did Bruce just invite him into another bath? Being mer must have scrambled his brain. He looks fine though. More than fine, he looks…

“And that is our cue to leave, young sirs,” Alfred says and shoos the others out the door. Were they really all here? Clark feels rude for not greeting them properly.

“I seem to recall you owing me a scalp massage,” Bruce says when the last bat-boy is out of the room.

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault we didn’t get to finish that,” Clark points out. His chest feels light as he looks Bruce over. He really does look his best when he’s clean-shaven and on his own two feet. Although Clark might miss getting to take care of him.

“I promise I won’t pop a mermaid-boner on you this time,” Bruce says with a cocky shrug. He’s trying to cover up the slight blush on his cheeks with a confident attitude and Clark has missed this. Missed him being up and flirty.

“Too bad,” Clark grins because now that Bruce has mentioned it, it’s free territory. It’s not part of the unspoken thing. “It suited you.”

“I thought I told you not to look,” Bruce says as he steps closer.

“I thought I told you to ask for help,” Clark counters.

“I’m asking now.” He’s so close that Clark only has to flex his hand and he’ll be able to touch him. Bruce is well aware of this; it’s clear in his bright eyes. The purple is gone but his eyes are just as beautiful without it.

“Are you?” Clark asks.

“Please,” Bruce breathes so close to his lips. He looks from Clark’s mouth to his eyes, searching for something or saying something, Clark isn’t sure. The signal is clear as day though, he doesn’t have to say it: the unspoken thing now has words. “Help me out of these clothes.”

“You got it.”

[myhoneststudyblr]

my masterpost | my studygram | ask me anything 

[click images for high quality]

[transcript under the cut]

Other advice posts that may be of interest:

All About Procrastination

How To Study When You Really Don’t Want To

Common Study Mistakes

7 Strategies to Improve Concentration

How to Make Your Notes Aesthetic

How to Stop Procrastinating Series

how to improve your handwriting 

examine your handwriting

Everyone's handwriting is different! So the first thing you need to do is look closely at your unique style so you know what you need to work on.

First, write out the alphabet and some sample sentences on a piece of paper. Here are some things you can look for:

Does your handwriting slant in a certain direction?

Is your handwriting fluid and relaxed or controlled?

Is your handwriting joined or printed?

Are there any letters that aren't formed properly?

Are there any letters that look too similar to each other?

Are your letters inconsistent in size?

Circle any letters that aren't quite right so you know which ones to focus on. 

choose the right pen

You should never underestimate the power of a good pen! Having a pen that flows nicely and fits comfortably in your hand can make all the difference to your handwriting! Unfortunately, finding a pen that suits you can take time and lots of experimentation and I can't just tell you what to use!

What should you look for in a good pen?

Does the ink flow smoothly?

What size nib does the pen have? (Some handwriting looks better with a thicker or thinner line width so try out different sixes to see what suits yours!)

Is it a gel, fountain, or ballpoint pen?

Is it thick enough that you can hold the pen in a relaxed grip? (A thicker barrelled pen can help to extend the fingers and loosen a tense grip)

Popular pens

Muji Gel Ink Pens (what I use!)

Pilot G2 Retractable Premium Gel Ink Roller Ball Pen

Pentel EnerGel Deluxe RTX Gel Ink Pen

Uni-ball Jetstream Stick Roller Ball Pen

Zebra Gel Pen Sarasa Clip

Find the right paper

Just as a good pen is important, so is the paper you use! Do you prefer lined, square or dotted paper? Does the pen flow smoothly on the paper? Does ink bleed through the paper? Again, it is about finding what works for you!

experiment with position and rotation of paper

We are generally taught to keep our paper in a vertical position in front of us. If that works for you, great! If not, feel free to experiment with different paper rotations. Keeping the paper at a certain angle can go a long way in helping you to improve your handwriting!

Like most aspects of handwriting, paper rotation is a personal thing, so try lots of different angles to find what fits. Right-handed people should start at the vertical position, and rotate the paper to the left until writing feels easy and comfortable. Left-handed people should start at the vertical position, and rotate the paper to the right.

Padding the Paper

No matter what paper you use, it should always have a few more sheets of paper under it. This allows the pen to write more smoothly and is easier on your hand. It doesn't need a lot, just a couple pages! 

slow down

Anyone who has done an exam knows that having to write really fast can make your handwriting deteriorate. We are often forced by school to write as fast a possible, so much so that for many writing fast becomes a habit to the detriment of our handwriting.

Therefore, it's incredibly important to consciously slow down when trying to improve your handwriting. Take the time to form each letter correctly and ensure the spacing, sizing and slant is consistent. As you practice this neater handwriting and get used to how it flows, you will naturally be able to increase your speed as you become more confident.  

embrace your personal style

Handwriting is a very fluid, personal thing that is always evolving. Your handwriting at this very moment is probably very different to what it was a year ago. Handwriting is not like calligraphy, where you more or less write the same every time. Instead, you’ll have neat days, and you’ll have not-so-neat days! That's perfecting natural!

No matter how your handwriting looks, it is a reflection of you and your personality. So, don’t get too hung up on a radical change that completely alters how you write: instead, focus on making clearly formed letters that are easy to read and neater.

Remember it's not about getting it "perfect", but rather, progressing and improving over time.

practice and persevere

Like anything, handwriting takes time and practice. The more you write using good habits and implementing styles that appeal to you, the better your handwriting will get.

But at the same time, sometimes it will look worse before it gets better, which can be demotivating. Therefore, it is important to persevere and remember that it will improve. You might also not even fully notice the gradual improvement so make sure to look back over your past handwriting to see how far you have come!

Ideas for Practice

Quotes

Song lyrics

Pangrams

Crosswords

Journalling

Snail mail

Shopping lists

School workbooks

Doodle

Thank You!

I hope that this will help you improve your handwriting and that you found this useful!

[soulmate-game]

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

[opinions-about-tiaras]

One of the major problems with trying to do this as a modern person living in a developed country is that we’ve all got the capitalism, and its incredibly, almost impossibly difficult to put ourselves into the mental and social position of people operating in a pre-capitalist society.

The mere act of buying something or of employing skilled labor is, in my understanding, incredibly fraught in a society that has not established free markets in land, labor, and capital. We’re used to damn near anything being for sale. If I want to buy a parcel of land for my new model experimental farm, and I have money, I can probably find something that suits my needs.

This might have been very hard even for someone with considerable financial resources back in the day. You want to buy land? From whom? The smallfolk working it probably don’t own it, they have use rights to it but the land isn’t theirs to sell. The nobleman they pay rent to? That’s part of his fief, and his rights to it are considerably more robust than his renters, but he does homage for that land and may not be able to simply dispose of it. The king? Well, kings are perennially poor and want money, but now you’re asking him to strip land from a nobleman, which usually pisses them off. You buy off the king AND the noble? Well, that could work, but now you’re paying twice, and the king is going to expect homage and a vassalage agreement.

It is probably literally not possible to purchase land as a freehold. A sovereign might be alarmed by the very suggestion, which places that land much further outside his authority than he cares to have it, even if he’s an English sovereign who has allodial title to the whole realm. Your land is going to be encumbered somehow.

And even once you get your hands on the land, the smallfolk living there still have use rights and likely cannot simply be summarily dispossessed. They are also likely to resent you coming in and telling them to change how they’ve always farmed because you have fancy ideas about the three-field system and agricultural optimization you’d like to test. You can offer to support them financially if they agree to your terms even if your farming ideas fail, but now you’re paying more money to more people, again.

Once you’ve jumped through all these exhaustive hoops, you still aren’t done. Now you have to get learned people and engineers out to that land to do things like test your ideas for an irrigation system or for more robust kinds of wheat or better crop rotation methods. Such people are in short supply and high demand, and so charge a premium; they and may not want to trek out into the boonies when they can find more remunerative employment in the cities.

Then you find out that you CAN’T build the irrigation project you’d planned on because the baron in the fiefdom downstream from you gallops up, brandishing an old piece of parchment from a king who has been dead for a hundred years granting his family water rights on the stream you’re diverting. Now you’re embroiled in a lawsuit that might take ages to resolve.

Many of these problems are a lot more manageable if you’re a sovereign, of course, who can wave his hand and get a lot done because of course he’s the king anointed by God. But the larger problem is that our modern economic system, for all of its seeming lumbering bureaucracy and unending regulations and restrictions on commerce that libertarian types like to complain about, is designed to smooth transactions and encourage development. A modern capitalist economy wants you to buy and sell. It wants you to develop land. Part of the entire point of things like property taxes aren’t just to raise revenue, but to goad people; either transform that property into something that generates revenue in excess of your tax burden, or transfer it to someone who will.

Pre-capitalist economies sort of don’t care nearly as much about this. They have other priorities.

And this is just with something like “get your hands on a little land to demonstrate how to improve farming.”

What texts would you recommend to develop the sort of general knowledge needed to write something like your economic development plans? I am currently trying to write a setting which has a few major reformist leaders with big plans, and it would really help to know a bit more about how to come up with a workable economic development plan for a fantasy region - I really admired your work on the subject, and thought you were the person to ask.

This is a great question!

Something I've discussed before wrt economic development, is the need to avoid presentism as much as possible. So I've always taken as a central limiter of my economic development proposals that they have to fit within the boundaries of what was known/technologically feasible during the Late Middle Ages through to the Early Modern period.

In this fashion, I try to avoid the Connecticut Yankeee in King Arthur's Court scenario where all of the sudden steam engines appear hundreds of years early out of nowhere - because we shouldn't be assuming that economic development is some teleological process that has to go through the same stages as Western European economic development did in our timeline. The result is that I got really into reading about the Commercial Revolution and the technologies that drove economic development during that period - hence why I became obsessed about canal-building, because canals were a key technology that the Early Modern nation-state used to create and reshape markets.

So here is a meta-list of books I'd recommend on economic development in the Middle Ages through the Early Modern period:

books about medieval and Renaissance governments.

William Cronon’s Nature’s Metropolis, Lawrence Goodwyn's The Populist Moment, and Will and Wong's Nourish the People on the making and remaking and regulating of agricultural markets.

books about Medieval and Renaissance urban development.

books about medieval guilds.

Robert S. Lopez' Commercial Revolution of the Middle Ages.

Joseph Gies' Merchants and Moneymen: the Commercial Revolution.

Pamela Smith, Paul Findlen ed. Commerce, Science, and Art in Early Modern Europe.

Ralph Davis' A Commercial Revolution.

Anthony Burton's The Canal Pioneers and The Canal Builders.

John Blair ed. Waterways and Canal-Building in Medieval England.

A.E.J Morris, History of Urban Form Before the Industrial Revolution.

[pitaparka]

sex headcanons

note — NSFW. whelp. if anyone wanted proof of me being clinically insane, this is what you could show them. not only has all of my free time been devoted to watching anything with pedro pascal in it, this is also what i think about while watching these anythings. i know there are people out there who have loved him for longer and are even more obsessed than i, so i figured i would share my personal headcanons for the PPCU (pedro pascal cinematic universe, duh). big love for any fans of pedrito - nat

MANDO

- VIRGIN with a capital V

- did you see how he reacted when grogu touched his face? this man has not been touched since he was a child

- he grew up with the mandalorians but he was exposed to suggestive behaviors because, helloooo, bounty hunter

- you have to coax him into it, but it doesn't take much, since he plans on keeping you around long term

- plus, you're so good with the kid

- you provide him a safe space to explore both himself and also your body and he has no idea how lucky he is for it

- doesn't make very much noise, but loves to listen to you

- he won't last long, he’s so sensitive from years of going untouched, but this man's recovery time???

- unparalleled

- he also has the dick of a space porn star and doesn't know it

- but seriously, rice purity score is NOT lower than 90, and most of the boxes he checks are "running-from-the-police" related

- he really wants to be held and have someone run their hands through his hair and kiss his neck and hold his hands is that too much to ask???

EZRA

- his words are where he gets you

- who knew dirty talk could sound so elegant??? and poetic??

- what a tease he is, too

- he pants so heavily right in your ear holy sweet lord

- and loves to laugh during sex

- he doesn't take himself super seriously unless he gets super into it, which has been known to happen from time to time

- safe words have been used between you two, which there's no shame in, but he's so good to you afterward

- he loves aftercare, and being gentle and sweet after a rough session

- asks you what you want and makes you beg for it

- makes you feel like you're in control but really, he's the one in control

- will make you cum before he does

- kinky kinky boy, almost always willing to try what you want him to

- loves to pin you down, but after he loses his arm it becomes a bit harder, so he settles for holding you flush against his chest as you squirm in his strong grip

FRANKIE

- a little soft spoken, but will whisper in your ear in public because he knows it gets you riled up

- will stare you down from across the room with bedroom eyes

- he's got that pilot's precision if you know what i mean aha

- he's honest with you about what he likes and has no qualms about telling you up front

- gives off switch energy, but you're gonna have to really make it worth his while if you want to fuck him

- a very gentle touch, which he would love to be reciprocated

- he aches from years in the service, his back, his knees, his shoulders

- would probably drop dead if you gave him a massage as foreplay

WHISKEY

- what an arrogant piece of shit

- "gorgeous, darlin', sweetheart, sugar"

- he will butter you up like a roll on thanksgiving goddamn

- so straightforward, and very up in your face, but it got you to sleep with him the first time you met him, so you can't say it doesn't work

- not the best with his fingers, but dear lord that tongue does wonders when he's not talking

- is a man on a mission to please you

- will spend an absurd amount of time between your thighs, and loves to feel you try to push him away when you get oversensitive

- loves it when you get feisty

- pull his hair, bite down a little harder than usual, push him down onto the bed or forcefully unbuckle his pants and this man will be putty in your hands

- is SO LOUD, and expects the same from you

- doesn't understand that because you're not screaming to the heavens doesn't mean he's doing a bad job

- associates volume with pleasure which isn't always the case

- that's something you'll have to work on with him, but he's a patient man

JAVIER PEÑA

- keeps condoms and lube on hand at almost all times

- ohhhh boy is this man willing to go at it wherever, whenever, you name it

- will fuck you until he sweats, and keeps going afterward

- and will definitely do you right

- he fucks to feel in control, so good luck trying to take control with this one

- almost tries to distance himself from you at first, but really it scares him that he cares so much

- there's just something about orgasming at the same time as you that just makes his whole week, and your hole weak (ahaha)

- likes to fuck you from behind and fuck you roughly, hands both occupied at the same time, mouth on you, and dick inside you

- very hands on, but can be sweet afterward

- this man kisses like no other you've ever kissed before, he leaves you breathless

MARCUS MORENO

- leads by example wink wink

- will show you what he wants done to him, and is pretty vanilla, but in a good way

- is big on foreplay and also aftercare, probably one of the sweeter ones on the list

- he's almost methodical in his sex, very routine, but willing to deviate for you

- gentle, but deep, languid strokes

- thinks he's quieter than he actually is

- always has a lot on his mind, so he really appreciates it when you can ease some of his tension

- secretly was really experimental in college

- very attentive to your needs and likes to tease

- morning sex is his thing. when he gets home from a long day, he wants to eat and relax and sleep. but in the morning? before anyone is up and before breakfast is even being considered, he likes to wake you up with sweet bruises and roaming hands

MARCUS PIKE

- marcus is the type of man to respect your boundaries fully, keep copies of toys he knows you like at his house, and surprise you at work with flowers and a dirty quickie in the bathroom because you've wanted to try it so badly

- a more traditional way of thinking on sex, and semi-reluctant to do anything involving his ass, but will try it for you if you really want him to

- a very quick learner, this one, and incredibly intuitive

- what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm

- it's almost like he can read your mind, when he uses just the right amount of pressure and uses just the right motion to make you cum for him

- you have no idea how anyone could give this up, let alone break his heart

- his favorite thing is having you ride him, your face buried in his neck as you grind your hips down as he whispers praise in your ear

- marcus isn't super kinky, but i'm sure you can convince him to try something new every once in a while

MAX PHILLIPS

- OFFICE. DESK. SEX.

- "a private word with you in my office, please."

- so very seductive. the hand on the small of your back gets you going and he knows it, but he'll have to be more subtle if he wants to keep you

- another one who will butter you up to get you to sleep with him. he's very obvious about it, so it may or may not work first time. regardless he's up for a challenge

- pays so much attention to your neck. you will have to invest in many turtlenecks if you want to be with max

- big on eye contact, except for the exception of fucking you senseless over his desk

- obviously, a vampire, so he's absolutely magic between your thighs

- is very personable with everyone else, mainly because he's a business major, but he LOVES to make you jealous, this man LIVES off of it

- will one hundred percent expect you to be putty in his arms immediately, and treats it as a competition if you aren't

- he WILL take it personally and will make it a personal goal of his to get you to like him and want to fuck him without using his powers

- a game of cat and mouse

- does not care at all about being loud in the workplace, but he likes to see you struggle to keep quiet, even if everyone else can hear you anyway

MAXWELL LORD

- has suCH a praise kink wow

- his favorite thing is to hear you moan and tell him he’s doing a good job

- a little more vanilla than his counterparts but does like to take control and be a little rough

- a switch sometimes, falls into ruts where he just wants someone to take care of him

- but he WILL NOT ASK FOR IT. his pride won't let him

- at first, he’s not as mindful of you as you’d like him to be

- his sex is fast and unpleasant with hands everywhere and mouths and teeth and touch

- so you sit him down, and show him what you like. very slow and sensual

- you take your time with him, and he eventually starts to do the same with you

OBERYN MARTELL

- remember din's rice purity score? yeah, oberyn's is maybe ten. which is pushing it

- when you meet him, he knows what he likes, and is very particular about it

- he's done his fair share of experimenting, but he's willing to try new things, if there's anything new to be tried

- takes control inside and outside the bedroom

- not afraid to show you your place

- he's the kinky one in the relationship, and he will let you explore his body all you want

- if he doesn't like it he will kindly redirect you, his hands on yours, stroking and tugging and redirecting pressure and placement so that you learn his body in and out

- loves to watch you with his girls and boys. what an exhibitionist this man is

- for most people, they have to choose between quantity or quality in their sex lives. oberyn martell is not most people

- he is a prince, and will not let you forget it, but likes it when you talk back and he has to punish you

PERO TOVAR

- the roughest one on the list, but not the kinkiest

- sex to him when he's at his worst is just a way for him to feel good and relieve stress

- when he's at his best, it's a way for him to make you scream his name

- very possessive about what's his, and if he has to show it in front of everyone else for them to know that he will do it

- this man fucks like a rabbit. how does he find the time??? nobody knows

- his libido is so high. you have no idea how he isn't absolutely spent at the end of a long day of fighting and training and wandering, but he'll fuck you where you lay if you let him and you're too tired to move

- once you accidentally walked in on him stroking himself, and the AUDACITY OF HIM

- he smirked, groaned, and asked you to help him out

- who could resist a man like that

[waka-chan-out]

Just Once

Hanamaki Takahiro x fem!reader

non-canonical timeskip.

word count: 3.5k

content warnings: makki’s pov. honestly this is pretty much just friends to lovers fluff with some healthy smut thrown in at the end. technically unprotected sex but no attention is called to it.

based on this request

Makki was sure you didn’t even realize you were half asleep, so when he shoved your shoulder you nearly jumped across the room.

“What the hell?” you yelped. He laughed and stood.

“Not on my watch! Sit up. Come on. I got you.”

He dragged you into a seated position and grabbed a bright pink energy drink from the fridge. He flopped back down in front of you and held out his hand.

“Drink this.”

You saw what he was holding and snorted.

“Why?”

“So you can stay up with me, stupid. You asked to sleep over. I expect fully conscious best friend bonding time.”

You rolled your eyes but took the can anyway.

“I asked to sleep over, not stay up all night,” you said, popping open the can. You held it up to your lips and took an experimental sip.

“How is it?” he asked. You winced and shook your shoulders.

“It tastes like drugged up cotton candy.” You held it up to your lips, then hesitated. “Am I supposed to feel it as it goes through my veins?”

“You are, actually. It’s great.” He picked up his own drink and nearly spilled it on the carpet before taking a long sip. Using your logic, his was a deliciously metallic green apple flavor.

You moved to set your drink down but Makki caught your hands in his own.

“Oh, no you don’t. Come on. Open.” He sat up to between your knees and tipped the drink back toward your lips. “I can sip. You gotta chug.”

You made a muffled sound in protest but let the liquid fall past your lips anyway, grumpily holding his gaze as you drained a good portion of the can. He set it down beside you and shot you what was supposed to be an innocent smile.

“You’re an idiot,” you said.

“Indeed. Feeling more awake?” he asked. You shrugged.

“I’m sure I will once the heart palpitations set in.”

“I know CPR. You’ll be fine.”

He settled back onto the floor and resumed staring at the ceiling. You had bought him one of those little constellation lights for his last birthday, and since it was freezing outside they were the best possible substitute for stargazing. You laid down next to him, fingers laced on your chest. Quiet music came from your phone in the corner, virtually untouched since you arrived hours earlier. Matsukawa always joked that when you hung out together it was like you entered a void, completely impossible to locate until you were separated, and he was right. With you here, this was the only room that existed. You were floating around in space and would be sucked out into nothing as soon as you tried to leave.

You rolled over and leaned against your hand.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked. Makki didn’t look at you. He didn’t need to.

“Matsukawa,” he said. You scoffed.

“Why? Making a tier list of our friend’s eyebrows?”

“Hair, actually. His curls give him a pretty big advantage.”

“They are nice, I’ll give you that. But not nice enough to make up for his shitty personality.”

It wasn’t nearly as fun ripping into him when he wasn’t there to defend himself, but you both laughed anyway.

Makki considered your words for a moment. In all honesty, Matsukawa would place pretty high on all of those lists. A humor list too. And probably an overall looks list. He was certainly the more popular in high school, and had only come more into his own since graduating.

“You know, I always thought Matsukawa was the better looking of the two of us.” The words slipped out before he could even consider stopping them. He froze and turned to you. To his surprise you were studying his face with the interest he might have expected from a doctor and their patient. When you didn’t respond, he realized he was nervous. Why, he didn’t know, but he really, really needed you to respond.

“I’ve never told anyone that before,” he breathed.

“Issei is handsome,” you said. Well, fuck.

“Good, good. These years of insecurity were warranted. Good to know.”

You smacked his shoulder.

“Shut the fuck up while I speak to you.” He laughed but held his tongue. You continued. “Issei is handsome, but you are too. Just in different ways. Neither is better or worse.”

He stared at you stupidly. “Thanks?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a question! I’m being serious.”

“I can tell. It’s just a funny compliment to get.”

“Well, think about it. The sunrise is beautiful. The sunset is beautiful. Two things can be totally different and equally lovely at the same time.”

He gazed at you, face scrunched and unable to decide between confusion and understanding.

“Do you get it?” you asked

“Yeah, yeah. I think so.” He paused and considered what you said. “So, which am I?” You made a face.

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“It’s your metaphor!”

“You’re sunrise, dummy.” You ruffled his hair. “I thought you’d get that.”

He smiled. He could work with sunrise.

“So, which do you prefer?” he asked. “Sunrise or sunset?” You huffed a laugh and your eyes fell to the carpet, where you had started playing with a loose string.

“I try not to play favorites,” you said. He watched your face carefully. A small smile played on your lips, the same one that always appeared when you were alone with him. “But there’s a reason I don’t drag you outside as the sun is going down.”

He stared at you, and you stared right back. An unexpected but deeply familiar feeling settled in his chest. He didn’t know what to do with it, so he swallowed hard and returned to laying on his back. “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.”

“I know. But for my own sake, thanks.”

Makki could feel your eyes scanning his face, but he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling.

“You know, you’re good looking too,” he said.

“Yeah? You come up with a fancy metaphor for me?”

He snorted and turned onto his side again. Your lips were curled into the prettiest shadow of a smile and he could feel his mouth going dry.

“I’m not good at talking like that. But you’re just so familiar.” He reached out and absentmindedly traced his fingers over the back of your hand. He tried his best to not look at your face, because he could feel his heating up and the warmth was making it hard to think straight. He stilled his hand and laid it on top of yours as was finally able to piece his thoughts together. “You feel like home.”

When he finally looked at you your lips were parted in surprise. He hadn’t expected that reaction. Was what he said been that outlandish? You had been friends forever. Of course he felt like that around you.

“Thank you, Makki,” you said. His mouth twitched into a smirk.

“You don’t need to thank me for being honest.” The repeated phrase forced a laugh out of you, but he couldn’t quite place the look on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

“You just did,” you teased. He rolled his eyes and scooted closer to show he was serious.

“Okay, okay,” you said. “Shoot.”

“Why don’t you call me by my given name?”

You scoffed.

“I don’t know.”

“That’s not true! There has to be a reason.”

“It feels too special. I don’t want to use it like that.”

“You use Mattsun’s!”

“Yeah, well.”

He frowned, amused, and leaned in closer. You wrinkled your nose and tried to back away.

“Well, what?” he asked.

“I don’t know how to explain it! It’s just different. Too intimate.” You said the last part quietly, like you didn’t want him to hear it.

“So why can you use his ‘intimate’ name and not mine?”

“Because it feels different with you.”

“Why?”

You were staring at him, an apprehensive look on your face. He paused, and the new information finally clicked. Oh.

You both hesitated.

“Do you want me to say it or do you get it?” you whispered.

“I think I get it?”

You blew out a frustrated sigh and covered your face with your hands.

“Don’t say it like a question!”

“Fine, fine, fine. I genuinely think I get it but I don’t want to be presumptuous.”

“So you get it but you’re not going to do anything to show me that you get it?”

“See? You get it.”

“Makki!”

“What? You know I can’t turn it off.” He grinned. “It’s like an impulse.”

“You’re an impulsive ass?”

“I am. That’s why we fit so well together. You’re an impulsive ass tamer.”

You let out a surprised laugh.

“And what does that make Issei?”

Makki waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, forget about him. I wanna focus on us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, us. I’m still on this given name bullshit.”

“God,” you groaned. “Can we move on to another topic?”

“Not until I’m sure that I know what I think I know.”

“Hanamaki Takahiro, I am going to end your bloodline.”

He perked up and pointed at your face.

“Ah! You said it! Now just say it on its own.”

“Hanamaki.”

“Fuck! No. Not that one.”

You stared at him seriously.

“Just try it!” he begged. “Then I’ll stop bugging you.”

“Forever?”

“Hell no, just about this.”

You groaned and rubbed your hands over your face. You took a deep breath and set your jaw.

“Just once?” you asked.

“Just once. Unless I want to hear it again.”

“If you’re going to be weird I’m not going to say it!”

“Fine! Fine. I’m shutting up.” He motioned like he was zipping up his lips and handing you the key. You laughed and pretended to take it, closing your hand into a fist and laying it between you.

“Okay.” You took a deep breath. He pretended not to notice the way it faltered on the way out. You looked him seriously in the eye.

“Takahiro.”

Shit.

He expected it to feel silly, so much hype up for something incredibly stupid. But it wasn’t. It felt a little too good to be silly. It felt really good. It felt right.

He held out his hand. Your brows pulled together until he pointed at your hand, then his face. You let out a ridiculous laugh and held two fingers close to his mouth, pretending to unzip his lips again. He caught your hand before you could fully pull it away, cradling it against his face.

“You know, that’s the prettiest anyone has ever said it.” He didn’t register the words that were forming until they were out and he was cringing, waiting for you to tell him to fuck off. Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Don’t be embarrassing.”

“What? The more you say it the less strange it feels for both of us.” He scooted against the ground, bringing his body even closer to yours. “Do it again.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Takahiro.”

Fuck.

You sat in silence. You stared at each other, unwavering and perfectly comfortable, neither of you making any move to turn away. Makki broke the silence with a sharp breath.

“Can I try something?” he asked. You looked apprehensive but he went on. “If I totally misread the situation that’s fine, I won’t be offended. Just, can I?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t care.”

Well, shit. He was suddenly frozen.

You know what? No. You were one of his best friends. If he fucked up, you’d tell him, then you’d laugh about it, and best of all, you’d never ever tell Matsukawa. That was the kind of friend you were. You were perfect. You were his.

He pushed up on his elbow and leaned over you. He could see your eyes widen in surprise, then settle back into something nervous but not apprehensive. He was so close to you. At this distance he could feel every pull of your breath against his face. God, he could do this. If worst came to worst you could laugh about it and return to being best friends. He might die as he did this, but if he was honest, he was more likely going to die if he didn’t.

He reached up and ran a hand through your hair. Then, he cupped the side of your face, leaned in, and ever so gently pressed his lips to yours.

For a moment he panicked because you didn’t move. You were frozen against him, and he had fucked up so horribly he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to laugh it off.

Then you weren’t frozen and there was a hand buried in his hair, and he let out the most relieved sigh of his life.

He swore he could feel you smiling as he finally let himself move, lips shifting against yours like they had always been there. You fit against him so perfectly it almost surprised him, but only almost. You had always been in sync, ready to back him up with a joke or laugh or the end of a snarky comment that he couldn’t quite get out. You were his other half and it only made sense that your lips were made just for each other.

He planted a knee on the ground between your legs and propped himself up above you, shivering when your hands ran down his sides.

Makki knew he was a good kisser, but with the responsive, welcoming way your mouth moved against his, he became painfully aware that he had never experienced a truly great kiss until now. He felt your tongue nudge his lips and he parted them, letting you deepen the kiss. You tasted like the stupid cotton candy energy drink and the sweet, familiar breath of someone that he adored.

Your fingertips danced along his abdomen, then his hipbones, finally coming to rest just slightly dipped under the band of his pajama pants. There was no longer the hesitance of friendship in your hands, and when he cradled the back of your neck, he realized the feeling was affecting him too. You were trembling, and so was he, drunk on the feeling of a familiar but entirely new body. Playful touches couldn’t compare to harsh fingers grasping at whatever skin they could find, eliciting small sighs and dizzying gasps.

He dipped his head down and planted kisses along your jaw. Your hands closed into fists and you tipped your head back, letting his tongue move down to you neck. He might have been leaving hickies. He honestly didn’t know. All he cared about was absorbing as much of you as he could as quickly as possible.

You brought up your knees so he was sandwiched between your legs and he shuddered. He thought the kiss would be enough. Hell, he didn’t even think you’d receive it this enthusiastically. But he could feel that he was turned on, and you were definitely going to be able to tell if he didn’t slow down a little. He brought his lips back to yours and tried to lower the tension, ease up the pace, but then your legs were wrapped tightly around him, forcing him to grind against you.

Oh, fuck.

You grabbed his face on either side and licked into his mouth like you were trying to own him, and jesus he was starting to believe you did. His arms were braced on either side of you, desperately trying to keep him from completely melting, but it wasn’t working at all.

He was distantly aware that he was hard, but he didn’t think about it until one of your hands had left his face to paw at him through his pajamas. He gasped and felt you smile into the kiss, rubbing your palm up his length, nearly able to wrap your hand around him through the thin fabric. He pulled away from your lips and looked at you seriously, or as seriously as he could when his brain was actively trying to vacate his skull.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

You ground your hand harder against him.

“Getting shy on me, Takahiro?”

He let out a shaky breath and shook his head. You stared up at him with a smug smile and he had the urge to kiss it off your face.

“Shut up,” he grumbled. You smiled and pulled him down by the back of his neck.

“Make me.”

He cut off any further comment by connecting your lips, trying to fight off a grin. You managed to maneuver the front of his pajamas down and he gasped as the cool air hit him. He braced himself against the floor with an elbow and you used the moment of surprise to wrap your legs around him and lock his hips against you.

He ground against you once and was met with the sudden, dizzying realization that you weren’t wearing anything under your loose pajama shorts. He filed that information away for later, when he could sit down and ask himself just how many times you had laid beside him like that. One of your hands gripped his hair tighter as he pushed himself against you once more, trying to give you the opportunity to take the lead.

“Jesus,” you said suddenly, reaching down and taking hold of his length. “Just fuck me already.”

That sentence alone could have killed him, but his train of thought was derailed as you lined him up between your legs and held onto his shoulders, begging him to get closer. He readjusted his forearm on the floor above your head and pushed inside of you with one fluid motion.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. He tipped his forehead against your face, trying to regain some semblance of self control as he withdrew and thrust forward again. The way you groaned and dug your fingertips into his back made that nearly impossible.

He set a slow, grinding pace, letting himself swim in your quiet moans before silencing them with a kiss. Your hands moved back to his hair, holding him close as your tongue met his. The motion felt so natural that he barely registered that you had only kissed for the first time a few minutes ago. It felt like you’d been his forever.

You broke the kiss but Makki kept his face pressed against yours.

“Takahiro,” you sighed. “A little faster.”

He nearly lost control of his body as he obeyed, quick breaths leaving his lips involuntarily with every movement. Your moans were driving him crazy. He wanted to taste them, drink in every bit of you until you were shaking beneath him. He captured your lips in a kiss again and shifted a hand between your legs, circling your clit as he continued thrusting into you.

The sound that left your throat was muffled against his lips, but he swore he would never forget it. Your breath was quick against his skin and the kiss became messier with every motion. One of your hands flew around his bicep, like you were trying to anchor yourself as he continued pushing into you.

Fuck, Makki was close. The harder you panted, the tighter your grip on him was, the faster he hurtled toward the edge. You were moaning into his mouth, and his fingers were moving faster between your legs, and his arm was cramping just a little bit from holding himself above you, but then you were breaking the kiss and your back was arching and holy shit.

Makki’s hips stuttered and he let out the most embarrassing, full-bodied groan he was capable of. He had to snap his other arm up to avoid collapsing on top of you. He stopped moving and basked in the little shocked breaths that left your body, even after you had stopped shaking. He rolled off of you and closed his eyes.

“Holy shit,” he said. Laughter cut through his words, but he could tell you were having the same problem as your chest heaved. He could see you rearranging your clothes out of the corner of his eye. You paused while readjusting your shirt.

“Makki, you gave me a hickie,” you said. He shoved your arm.

“You don’t get to call me Makki after I just made you come.”

You laughed loudly and flicked his head. He continued staring at the ceiling until he felt you turn over and lay a hand on his chest. He looked down and you were studying him, an amused expression on your face.

“Think Issei will know something’s up?” you asked.

“Of course,” he said. “He notices everything. But deny till you die, right?” You smiled and he pressed a long kiss to your lips, relishing the feeling of your breath dancing over his skin.

This was the only room in existence. You were the only person in the universe, and yours were the only lips he had ever kissed. Nothing mattered besides you and him, right now, exactly where you were supposed to be.

[glowingbadger]

Can i ask for Sylvain, Ashe or Dima with a reader who it’s their first time? Ty!

Goodness, who to choose ~ Let's just do headcanons for all three :D

Sylvain, Ashe, Dimitri x Reader's first time HCs

NSFW 18+

(briefly implied AFAB reader)

Sylvain:

- Sylvain's an interesting case because he's not likely to ask much about your sexual history before being with you. He's one of those "doesn't care where you've been cause everyone's got a past" types. So he's not likely to even know that it's your first time until either you tell him, or he's got you in bed and he's noticing your reactions and starting to put the pieces together.

- Once he knows he's your first though, he's going to double down his efforts to make sure it's an incredible, unforgettable first. He considers himself an expert (and it's hard to argue with him on this tbh), so he figures it's time to put that expertise to work and make sure you have the most mind-numbing, toe-curling, breath-taking first time possible. It's a matter of pride in his craft, after all, and he wants you to enjoy sex as much as he does~

- You may feel a bit anxious about 'living up' to Sylvain's past partners, but he's an unabashed dirty talker, and has no problem assuring you over and over that you're taking his cock so well, you feel incredible squeezing so tight around him, your moans drive him absolutely mad, and so on. If anything, he may be a bit overwhelming as a first- but if you can take it, you'll be treated to several tentative kink experimentations, multiple positions, and a lover determined to make you cum until you're incoherent.

- I personally don't write this often cause I don't like to glorify or stigmatize virginity or make more of a thing out of it than it is lol, but I think Sylvain definitely could get into a bit of a soft corruption kink with this- so thrilled to be the first one to see you fall apart into pleasure. Being the only person to touch you like this, to be inside of your precious little hole, to hear you cry their name- it fills him with a sort of rush of power and arousal that even he wasn't fully expecting.

Ashe:

- Ashe truly doesn't have strong feelings one way or another about your sexual past, and it's your first time, he'll do his best to make it as comfortable and pleasurable for you as possible. He hasn't had terribly many past partners himself, so he's more invested in getting to understand your mutual chemistry together and falling into a natural rhythm with you.

- Honestly, having your first time with Ashe is just about the ideal scenario. He's more than strong and agile enough to maneuver you into positions that will be pleasurable and easy for you to handle, but is also so caring and openly adoring that you'll never feel rushed or pressured about anything. He checks in with you frequently and is more than happy to adjust to your preferences. He figures there will be time in the future for him to bring up some of his own preferences- right now, all of his focus is on you.

- Ashe definitely wants you to be nice and wet and relaxed for him before even attempting to enter you. He'll cover your body with gentle yet heated kisses, and bury his head between your legs without hesitation. He'll move at a slow pace, the whole evening punctuated with darling "I love yous" and glowing smiles. Fortunately, his fingers are also quite dexterous, so it won't be hard for him to get you soaked for him.

- Out of a bit of anxiety or concern or both, he'll definitely want to spend some time after all is said and done talking about what you liked and didn't like. Though... if this conversation gets a bit too detailed, you'll start to gradually feel his cock stiffening once more. He shifts a little awkwardly and apologizes, but if you're up for it, you could definitely convince him to go another round.

Dimitri:

- Listen. My favorite Dimitri is "no premarital hand holding" Dimitri. Okay, probably not that prude, but still- your first time is likely to be his first time as well. He's anxious, and so in-his-head about it, but in a way, knowing that this is new for both of you is something of a comfort for him. He's glad to know that you can both spend the time to gradually explore one another's bodies and preferences without pre-established expectations.

- There's a wonderful sort of gap-appeal in this immensely powerful man who just wants to cherish you above everything and anyone else- and his reactions as he earns the privilege of your approving moans and tensed muscles are absolutely adorable. Knowing that he's making you feel good is such an intense turn on for him. He's trying to restrain himself, not to rush, but every time you sigh out his name or run your nails down his back, his cock throbs with need.

- The moment he's entirely held inside of you for the first time is an emotional one for him. He briefly pauses to collect himself, then meets your eyes with his own shining with adoration, and kisses you tenderly and sweetly. He asks if it's okay to move, and he starts slow. Soon enough though, he's barely consciously aware of what he's doing, and the two of you are simply moving on instinct together, allowing your passions to take over as you trade deep kisses and whispered praises.

- Definitely the type to say "thank you" once it's over. In general, the afterglow is this sort of antsy, overwhelmed happiness for him, and he's an utter and complete dork about it. He checks to make sure you're okay and he wasn't too rough about eight thousand times. He's also a big cuddler, holding you to his chest and kissing your hair over and over. He cant think of anything of substance to say to you, but he's just so full of his love and appreciation that words seem insufficient anyway.

[triflesandparsnips]

The continuing adventure of

THE SOAP MINI-UPDATE

(I won't do a Big Update until the next full version/batch-- for which the grated soap is even now drying.)

In the time since the above, I have discovered the following:

They keep shrinking as they dry, the wee darlings, but not so much as you'd notice -- it's really just that the stamped designs contract a bit, which is something to consider in future.

The scent is considerably more mellow in this version -- less Spice Cookie (tragically), but more complex overall.

The most fascinating discovery is... it has white bubbles!

I mean, they're tiny and there's still a very light brown lotiony-lather that appears, but! It would seem that the addition of the orrisroot has begat many changes, regardless of what a pain in the ass it was for poor young Thomas to grind it to smithereens.

I know about the bubbles because, being who I am as a person... I have naturally not waited 12 days for them to dry completely and have instead tried using one.

Video 1. Behold! A somewhat reasonable lavender wash ball!

Of particular interest for me, and what is clear from the above video, is that the shape of the wash ball very much determined its use. By which I mean, when I typically lather a bar of soap, I revolve it around my palms to build a lather -- but with the ball, it didn't seem to want produce anything if I used it like that.

Instead, I switched partway through to gripping the soap in one hand and using it to rub at my skin to clean -- much like you might scrub at a piece of laundry, which is what soap was really used for in this period (prior to the development of The Nice Stuff).

All this made it clear to me that while this wash ball is... not ideal as a hand soap, it might very well be great as an exfoliating soap.

So, fuck it, I went ahead and tried that.

Starting shortly after the above video, I transferred the lavender wash ball to my shower and have used it a few times now. I can report the following:

The soap becomes even more bubbly! Not a full-on lather like we may be used to, but hey, I'll take it.

In feel, the ball is scratchy almost to the point of being unuseable... but only almost. It makes an astonishingly reviving body exfoliant.

The scratchy feel (of the god damned orrisroot) is tempered with the incredible silky smoothness of the base Nablus soap -- like scratching an itch and soothing it immediately with a balm.

Shortly after exiting the shower to dry off, an astringent/toning quality seems to activate -- which, as it turns out, is probably from the cloves (...neat).

The scent, though present while using, doesn't linger on the skin (to my knowledge -- no one's said anything, anyway). And so far as I can tell, my towels have not been stained by any brown-ness remaining in the lather.

The little ball, after a few uses, has become more compact and remained solid. It has also, though, revealed more of its Inner Workings.

Figure 1. Less like soap, more like an emergency homemade energy snack from an extremely dedicated Girl Scout leader.

This is a wee man who one must learn to love, I think. I have two more levels of experimentation I want to do on this mostly-historically-accurate wash ball, though, which may yet save it:

the replacement of in-house ground orrisroot with professionally ground orrisroot -- and more than just 1 ounce of it -- to see if I can increase the suds and lower the scratchiness;

the use of an entirely separate process that's sometimes mentioned, which involves reheating the soap and melting it down (so, basically, modern-day rebatching)

After, that, though, I'm going to start playing around with

Slightly More Historically Inaccurate Shenanigans

...specifically, different shapes, smooshing them with this more skin-friendly Wash-balls of Neroly recipe like they're two balls of Play-doh, maybe adding a smidge of coconut oil to boost the myristic acid content and also because I continue to think I'm funny, and so on.

Here endeth, I think, the mini-updates regarding version 2.0 of Stede Bonnet's historically plausible lavender soap. Huzzah.

SOAP MINI-UPDATE:

I'm going to go check on the version 2.0 lavender wash balls.

Will they have undergone a metamorphosis?

Or will they have succumbed to t̶͔̤̪͔̊̐̓͜ẖ̷̒̉̓̎̽̊e̸̪͈͎̓̒̚ ̸̬̖̹̥͜͝b̴̨̡͈͂͛͑̽̓͊ŗ̸̬̹̯̳̠́̏̚ò̸̡̼̼̟͎̑͌͑̑͘w̶̘͕̱͇̒͋͝n̶̹̟͊̉̓̄̓̕ ̴̧̮̘̼̖̳͐̃̚͝ḧ̸͇̩̹̣͖́o̶̖̳̭͔̐́̉ŗ̵̲̉͋̾̄͂͌r̵̨̛̳͚͓̮̐̇̆̉̚ô̴̯̟̹͇̾͒͝͝r̸͓̩̳̉̑͒̒̉̒ ?

I am filled with a terrible foreboding.

[noteguk]

for science | jhs | m

— summary; in which Hoseok hears through the grapevine that you give one of the best blowjobs ever, and he needs to test it to be sure. 

— contents and warnings; blowjob (duh), dirty talk, praising and stupid pet names, cum eating, deepthroating (the oc has no gag reflex), Hoseok finds heaven, kind of crack? Idk don’t take this seriously, college!au, hoseok x reader (with a mention of past Jimin x reader), studying sessions being interrupted in the name of science 

— words; 5,1k

Requested by anon! 

Hoseok could be kind of clueless when it came to some science-related things (and his high school biology teacher could attest to that), but one thing he knew very well was the scientific method. All that hypothesis-testing-stuff, or whatever the hell that was (okay, maybe he didn’t know it that well) had taken him out of some trouble in the past. It helped him see some of his decisions in a more experimental light, avoiding the terrible Olympic-somersault-into-conclusions that had gotten so many of his friends into awkward situations. And it shouldn’t even be said that he took quite a bit of pride in that — it made him feel very intelligent and he would take any stroke to the ego that he could get. 

So, when Jimin got a bit too tipsy and started babbling on about how you gave him the best blowjob of his life, Hoseok was, at the very least, cautiously skeptical. 

“You’re such a drama queen.” Hoseok rolled his eyes before chugging down a bit more of his beer. He was nowhere near as intoxicated as Jimin was, and he wasn’t planning on changing that. It was a Wednesday night, for fuck’s sake. He had to leave some thrill to the end of the week. “It probably was like… alright. Good, even. But the best one ever? Please.” 

“It was so much more than alright, dude.” Jimin threw his head over the couch’s back, looking like he just got washed up on the shore. His hair was a mess of clear strands, exploding on his head like a failed science fair experiment. “It was the best suck of my liiiiife. I wish she didn’t hate me so I could have that again.” 

He scoffed. Hoseok had enough filter left in him to avoid telling Jimin that the reason why you hated him was entirely his fault — what did he expect from three weeks of ghosting? Besides, if the head was that good, he would surely stick around for just a bit longer than two months. “Sure. Like the time that you almost died riding a roller coaster.” 

“Hey. I almost did.” Jimin’s eyes opened, presenting his friend with a dazed-out, unfocused brand of frustration. He was getting tired of not being taken seriously — didn’t Hosoek know that alcohol makes you more honest? He wasn’t making things up. Not when they were as serious as the well-being of his dick, or actual death. “It was some Final Destination bullshit, I’m telling you. Pieces of metal flying and everything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved it off, leaning closer to Jimin so he could take the almost-empty can of beer from his clumsy hands, and placed it on the center table. “I think you’ve had enough alcohol for tonight, man. You have a class at ten tomorrow.” 

“I’m serious, dude,” Jimin pressed on. It was past eleven and Hoseok only wanted to sleep, but the other boy was clearly clueless about the lack of mutual interest in that conversation. “Aren’t you two friends or something?”

“Kind of. It’s weird,” Hoseok answered. You two had lingered in a hazy friendship space for a long time now, and he didn’t know exactly how to explain your relationship. He didn’t really consider you two close by any means, but you weren’t strangers or casual friends either. To be honest, he hadn’t thought too much about it until that very moment. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?” 

Jimin sighed, fumbling against the sofa. Much to Hoseok’s delight, he was starting to get sleepy as well. “You could ask her to suck you off,” he mumbled, “then you can feel it for yourself.” 

He laughed at that, unable to believe what he was hearing. “Jimin, you’re out of your mind if you think that’s not gonna backfire.” 

He blinked heavily. “Hm? Why?” 

Hoseok blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “We aren’t that close, and we haven’t done anything remotely sexual before this. It would be super creepy.”

“That’s not true,” Jimin spoke lazily, as if the words were starting to get hard to find. There was a pause so long after his sentence that Hoseok thought his roommate had fallen asleep. “I know you guys made out like at the beginning of the semester. Taehyung told me so.”

He was going to murder Taehyung. “It wasn’t like that. We were both drunk and it was super awkward afterwards.” Hoseok got up from the couch, leaving Jimin to groan and spread out his legs over the cushions. “Listen, I’m glad you two had fun, and I’m sorry you ruined it. But I’m not gonna ask ____ to suck me off just so I can know if you’re being dramatic or not.” 

Jimin smirked wickedly — or at least tried to, because his lack of facial control wasn’t doing him any favors. “Whatever you say,” he teased, “but I think you’re curious.” 

Truth was: Hoseok was beyond curious. The cogs in his head had started to move, and his brain was evoking lewd images of you so fast that he could barely follow. He would be pretending if he said that he never saw you under that light before, but, after the mess that was your makeout session, he had forced himself to jump into the friendzone before he managed to make things worse. 

Hoseok liked you very much, even if you two weren’t particularly close. He enjoyed spending time with you, he found you funny, smart, and way out of his league. But he wasn’t delusional enough to believe that you would actually say yes to sucking him off, especially so out of the blue. 

“I’m not curious,” Hoseok lied through his teeth, and he wanted to change the subject so much that his head was starting to hurt. “You’re gonna sleep here?” 

“Hm… yes… the couch is very comfortable.” Jimin closed his eyes and adjusted his body on the furniture. His baggy shirt was already halfway through his stomach and his pants had ran up to his waist, but the man didn’t seem to notice. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes, moving towards the door. He needed to get Jimin some blankets, because the other was surely not getting up for the rest of the night. It was bad enough to babysit him for those few hours of intoxication, but infinitely worse to make him chicken soup if he got sick. Been there, done that. “I’m sure the couch is great.”

Jimin’s voice was soft and sleepy when he spoke up again. Hoseok was already in the corridor, and he almost didn’t hear him when he said, “I’m not talking about the couch.” 

Hoseok went to Jimin’s bedroom and grabbed his pillow and the blanket from his undone bed. Meanwhile, scenarios ran wild inside his head, having you as the main star. He didn’t know what was taking over him, but he wasn’t so quick to ignore Jimin’s story. Hoseok was faced with a fantastic scenario of a perfect blowjob, and the idea that it was so close to him was making his pulse quicken. Again: it would be absurd to ask you to do that, regardless of the motive behind it, and he knew that it would be awful for your already-strange friendship. 

No, he could never do that. He would not. 

But like… what if it worked, and you magically accepted his request? And what if, by some wonderful moment, some millennial alignment of planets, Jimin wasn’t actually being hyperbolic and you actually had the ability to give incredible blowjobs? Could he really let it pass without giving it a shot? 

He could see it as a scientific experiment, Hoseok thought, as a way to prove a hypothesis. It couldn’t hurt if he just— 

Oh my god, dude, shut the fuck up and forget about this. 

Coming back to his senses, Hoseok strutted out of his roommate's bedroom and walked toward the living room. By the time he came back with the blanket and the pillow, Jimin was already deep asleep.

~ 

Against his best efforts, that conversation remained stuck to the back of his mind for the next two weeks. Hoseok would find himself going back and forth on the idea of you having some strange, Marvel-worthy superpower when it came to sucking dick and, worst of all, the idea that his skepticism was making him miss out on it. Jimin was exaggerated when it came to, well, pretty much everything, but that didn’t mean that he would be wrong about that specific subject. That would be a logical fallacy, and that was also something that Hoseok knew very well. Bless his late nights on Reddit for that. 

Yet as the days moved along, and his curiosity was slowly turning into desire, he was forced to revisit the infamous night between the two of you, the one that Jimin had so mercilessly mentioned. Thinking back on it, it wasn’t surprising that your overconsumption of alcohol, added to the way that you two had grown close (both physically and mentally) had ended up with Hoseok laying on top of you, kissing the soul out of you and fondling your breasts in the middle of a party. It wasn’t the most dignified moment of either of your lives, but, well, it happened. 

One way or another, the night didn’t move forward. Even if Hoseok already had a tent in his pants, you two were far too intoxicated to consent, and were quick to fall asleep before the situation could escalate. Bottom line: Hoseok woke up with your tit in his hand, a nightmarish hangover, and the decision that the You-Subject would have to stay on hold for some time. 

And on hold it stayed. For an entire semester. And it would’ve remained that way if Jimin’s stupid mouth hadn’t started talking. 

So after two weeks of self-inflicted psychological torture, Hoseok slipped a hangout invitation amidst your texts. If you saw any second intentions behind his “haven’t seen you in awhile, wanna hangout? ;)” you didn’t let it show. The problem was that you weren’t really in the mood to go out, especially since you had a big exam coming up, so Hoseok ended up convincing you that he would stay quiet if you let him go over to your place. 

It was a bit harder not to notice the desperation in his proposal that time, but you ended up agreeing. Your thought process was that the boy would eventually realize that his hangout attempt was ridiculous and that he would leave you to study by yourself, and the two of you would reschedule that odd friendship session to when you weren’t drowning in textbooks. 

The problem was that you had been stupid enough to believe that your friend would actually keep his mouth shut. 

Hoseok was seated on the edge of your bed for so long that he was sure that his asscheeks were permanently imprinted on your sheets. Because he hated himself, he kept eyeing the digital clock to your right, and he was certain that he had spent the last fifty two minutes and thirty three seconds staring at the back of your head and trying to come up with a casual way to ask for a blowjob. 

He had tried a few times already, and each one constituted of him being unable to finish his sentence, instead looking at you like BooBoo The Fool until you turned back around to face your disorganized desk, sighing and trying to concentrate on your work. 

All things considered, he couldn’t actually believe he had escalated Jimin’s sailor tale to that point. He was out of his mind, that was a fact, and he had absolutely no clue how you would react once he (if he) found the words to ask you to sacrifice your mouth for science. 

God, he was an idiot. 

He cleared his throat and got ready to try one more time. “So… I…” 

You sighed heavily and turned around on the chair. “Hobi, this is the fifth time you’re starting a sentence and not finishing it,” you said, annoyed. “Can you tell me what the problem is? I have a test in two days and you promised you wouldn’t interrupt me if you came over.” 

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t like feeling like a kid being scolded, even if he kind of deserved that. Hoseok guessed it would be better to just take off the band-aid before he made an even bigger fool out of himself. “Let me just, like, explain the context of this. Otherwise it’s going to be even more strange.” 

Dropping your pen, you fully swirled the chair around, crossing your hands over your legs. He wasn’t expecting your complete attention anytime soon, and the seriousness in your stare made his courage falter for a second. It was such a stupid idea, you’d just end up hating him like you did Jimin. “As long as you make it quick,” you told him.  

Hoseok hesitated, running one hand through his hair. “Yeah, okay, so… like, a few weeks ago I was talking to Jimin,” he started, watching your face for any signal of an expression — confusion, disgust, anything. But he found nothing. “We were drunk, and he started talking about the time that you two were together. Like, sexually.” 

You blinked, unfazed. “And?”

“And… he told me that you give, like, the best blowjobs in history,” the words left his mouth before he could fully digest them. This time, he got a reaction out of you — a light raise of your eyebrows. “And, no offense, but I didn’t believe him. You know how extra he is about some stuff. Most stuff.” 

There was a moment of silence as you waited for him to go on, but Hoseok was too busy swallowing his thoughts down and feeling like he would collapse at any given moment. You sighed. “So what? You wanted to tell me that you don’t believe in my blowjob abilities? That’s all? Can I go back to studying now?” 

“No, that’s…” Now, things were starting to get complicated. Just take off the band-aid, Hoseok, don’t chicken out now. “I wanted to know if you could show me. Like, if you could suck me off. So I could... confirm that hypothesis.”

Every part of his brain was suddently hyperaware of how fucking stupid he just sounded. He had expected that another thick silence would follow, but his heart almost leaped out of your chest when you started laughing at him — like, full-chest, eyes closing, head rolling back laughing. “Are you serious?” You asked, taking one hand to cover your mouth before, at last, bursting out again. He felt like his ego was being stabbed with a rusty nail. “I can’t believe you, Hoseok. Took you all this time just to ask me if I could suck you off? For science?”

His mouth felt like it was full of cotton and he had to clear his throat before he found the force to answer you. “Yeah, I mean, only if you’re comfortable with it, of course,” he struggled to say, each word morphing into the next. His stomach had frozen up and the flight or fight response was starting to kick in. Had he really been that much of an idiot? When did his cock start dictating his words? “I… I know this is like, super creepy. I’m sorry. We can forget this ever happened and I’ll never talk to you again. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

Suddenly sad, he waited as you settled back on the chair, wiping a small tear from the corner of your eye before you stared at him. There was still a smirk crawling up your lips, and he felt like the world was collapsing all around him  as the silence expanded around the two of you. He looked at the digital clock: it had taken him precisely three minutes to ruin everything. 

He sighed, shoulders falling. “Do you hate me? Why are you so quiet?” 

You bit down on your lip, your eyes narrowing as you took his form in. Hoseok was hot: point blank. He was also nice, and respectful enough to realize that he might have overstepped a few lines with his request — and, even if you couldn’t really understand it, you also weren’t bothered by it. And you certainly didn’t hate him. In a way, you were almost flattered. You would’ve been more if the comment had come from anyone else but your Danny Phantom ex. But that was a different story. 

The entire situation was just too funny to let it go. And, besides, you really wouldn’t mind sucking Hoseok off. It wasn’t as if you had never thought about that before. 

“I’m... considering it,” you told him, watching as his face lit up in a mixture of confusion and joy. He looked like a kid seeing Santa for the first time. “If you promise to shut up and let me study, I’ll do it. And if you agree to never talk about it again.” 

Hoseok blinked profusely, his mind short circuiting. “For real?” 

“Yeah.” You raised from your chair, walking closer to your bed. Hoseok swallowed hard and leaned back, placing his hands on the mattress for support. “But do me a favor: if it’s not that good, don’t tell me. It’ll hurt me.” 

“Yeah, alright.” He swallowed dry, every neuron in his brain trying to grasp what the fuck had just happened. His mind was the Spongebob office being set on fire, and he suddenly didn’t know how to deal with the anticipation booming in his chest. “I’m... not hard yet, though.” 

“It’s okay.” You kneeled in front of him, placing your hands on his inner thighs and slightly pushing them apart. Hoseok quickly got the cue, and opened a bit more so you could comfortably place yourself between them. “Just... relax,” your voice was almost a whisper then, and he felt his soul trying to leave him. That was insane. “Let me take care of you.”  

Your words managed to make him relax a bit, then he tensed all the way back at the feeling of your hands fumbling with his button. His breath hitched as you pulled the zipper down, fingers hooking on the edge of his pants before tugging them down his thighs. 

He felt exposed as his pants fell like a puddle around his ankles, his tongue coming out to wet his lips as you leaned in. Hosoek felt like he was dreaming when you started nibbling at his skin, kissing and licking his inner thighs as you slowly made your way closer to his aching member. 

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he barely got out before sighing, the tingles of your caresses on his skin shooting directly towards his cock, already semi-hard. 

You flicked your eyes up at him, humming against his thigh muscles. You were now so dangerously close to his underwear that he thought he would lose consciousness. “Were you daydreaming about it or something?” You teased. 

Maybe in a different position, he would’ve lied about it. But the truth came out before he could hold it back. “Ever since Jimin told me that, yeah,” he said. 

“Hmm… hope I live up to the expectation, then,” you purred, looking up at him with those doll-like eyes. Hoseok suddenly felt like he was losing his balance, his entire body burning in desire and expectancy. You looked like another one of his horny daydreams, but you were kneeling right there, in arms reach, and he didn’t know how he would deal with what was about to ensue. 

Your mouth was hovering above his clothed cock before he could notice and, delicately, you leaned down to place a kiss on it. The touch was tender, almost numb with the fabric standing between you two, and yet Hoseok shivered, biting down on his lip as one of your hands enveloped his erection. He watched, mesmerized, as you started lazily stroking him through his underwear, leaning your head to the side so you could place heavy kisses on him, at times giving his tip a few kitten licks until it was covered by a thin layer of your saliva. 

The sensation left him on edge, silently begging for more. By the time you moved back so you could undress him, Hoseok was a mess of shallow breaths and heavy swallows; his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as pleasure started to build up at the corners of his perception. Biting back a moan of relief, Hoseok raised his hips as you slowly pulled his underwear downward, allowing for his cock to spring free from its confinement. You had done a good job teasing him, because it was already fully hard when it bounced against his abdomen, red-tipped and leaking. 

His gaze oscillated between your face and his cock, watching for any reaction as you took one hand to his length, squeezing him firmly. “Fuck,” he let out a grunt, his overwhelmed body responding to the smallest of touches. 

You smirked at his reaction, taking a quick glimpse at his devastated features before moving back to what you were doing. Hoseok was so cute, you thought, liking the way he was so responsive. 

A shudder ran up Hoseok’s body when your tongue came out between your lips, placing delicate licks on his base. He loved the feeling of your warm muscle against his hardened member, his mind growing eager as you began tracing a path upwards, flattening your tongue against him. His breathing was ragged by the time that you reached his crown, a hum escaping your throat as you lazily swirled your tongue around his tip, covering him with your saliva. 

You took your time caressing his slit with your mouth, waiting until he was cursing and panting before you finally wrapped your lips around him. At first, you only took his tip in your mouth, sucking so slowly that Hoseok whined and buckled his hips from the bed, trying to make you move faster. 

Wordlessly, you simply placed your palm against his thigh and pressed him back down. Even if that was the last thing he wanted to do, Hoseok accepted your order and settled back against the mattress, grunting as you continued to tease him. 

“Please, put it all in,” he begged, starting to lose his trail of thought. “This is torture.” 

And maybe another day you would have taken a bit more time torturing him, but, that afternoon, you were kind of in a rush to finish studying. So you complied. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck.” His eyes shut and his head was thrown back as you fully sank down on his cock, your tongue flat against him. Before he could stop himself, his hand flew to your hair, yanking at the strands as you moved back up, your hand pumping the parts of him that you couldn’t reach. 

“God, your mouth feels so great…” He moaned, back arching as you reached his tip once again, licking it before sinking back down — you took him just a bit deeper that time, and the motion didn’t pass by unnoticed. He was really starting to believe Jimin, and he wondered if maybe he should’ve been more worried about the entire rollercoaster situation. “Ah, that’s it. Just like that.” 

You moaned around him, the vibrations making him cry out, desperate. Hoseok couldn’t hold himself back from moving closer to the edge of the bed, his other hand clenching your bedsheets between his fingers as you continued to swallow his cock like it belonged in the hot confinement of your mouth. 

“Oh— oh my god, baby,” he grunted, pulling at the strands of your hair. His mind was starting to get hazy, his chest fluttering in a mess of sighs and heavy breaths every time that you sank down on his member; every time you flicked your tongue against his sentitive slit or pumped his base. “That’s really good, you take my cock so well.”

You looked up just to see the mess that Hoseok had turned into. With his mouth parted and eyes glazed over, he looked like he was about to fall apart at any second. He was watching you in complete awe, his eyebrows falling to form a beautiful frown of concentration; tongue coming out to lick his lips. He was so fucked out that you felt yourself getting riled up by his image, a pool of wetness accumulating between your thighs. 

“You look so pretty like this.” He exhaled, unaware of his own words. Hoseok was too busy following your swollen, redden lips as they wrapped around his member, your cheeks hollowing after you sucked him with all that you had. Even the small amount of droll around your mouth was enough to make him throb in your hold, a grunt escaping him. “With these — fuck — those pretty lips around my cock, shit. I could watch you forever.” 

You hummed around his member again at his words, the vibrations shooting directly at his core, where a rising heat had dangerously grown stronger, signaling his upcoming orgasm. Hoseok loved the way you actually looked like you were enjoying yourself, moaning and whimpering around his cock as you took all of him in your mouth, eyes closing every time he throbbed inside you. The eagerness in which you took him in, like you were starving for his cock, was one of the filthiest images that Hoseok had ever seen, and it was one that he knew would haunt his dreams for the years to come. 

When you removed his cock from your mouth with a dirty wet sound, Hoseok was about to complain before he saw you licking down his length, one of your hands holding his cock away from your face as your tongue started to play with his balls. It was an odd feeling, but not an unwelcomed one, and it kept him on edge for a little while longer while you played with him. 

With a timid whimper, you looked up at him as you licked your way back up to his tip. The image was so hot that he almost fainted, a deep moan escaping his throat when you took him back inside your delicious mouth. 

And the truth was clearer than Hoseok had ever expected: Jimin was right. 

“Fuck, babe, how did you get this good?” Hoseok grunted, trying his best to focus on the picture-perfect image of your lips wrapped tightly around his throbbing cock. He could tell that his release was starting to build up at an alarming rate, his thighs growing weaker every time you took him inside you. “Oh my- Ngh! Fuck! Oh my god!” 

Hoseok’s mind was wiped clean when he felt his tip hitting the back of your throat, his hips buckling up as your throat clenched around him. He was pretty sure he was in heaven then — if he focused, he could hear angels singing all around him — , his pleasure overtaking every cell of his body as you continued sucking the soul out of him. 

“Holy fuck, do that again,” he begged, his voice much higher than before. You didn’t need to be asked twice, because, within a second, he was crying out at the feeling of your throat wrapping around his cock one more time; his hands holding tightly to the roots of your hair. The only reason why Hoseok hadn’t started fucking your mouth yet was because he wanted to have you in control, giving him the best head of his life without any interruption. “Fuck, fuck— Baby, you’re so fucking good at this, fuck.”

There was a vague raising of his hips to meet your movements, making him hit the back of your throat again and again, the lewd sounds you were making filling the room. Nothing in his life had ever compared to that instant, he had ever felt a pleasure as great as he did at that point, and he knew it was about to snap. 

“God, I’m gonna cum,” he sobbed, finally closing his eyes and letting the pleasure take over. “Fuck, you’re so good, I’m gonna—“ 

Hoseok filled your mouth with his cum, dripping down your throat when you swallowed around him. His head was spinning and his muscles were trembling, and that time he was unable to hold himself back from thrusting up against your mouth, trying to prolong that divine sensation for as long as he could before, at last, collapsing against the mattress with a final, shaky moan. 

He barely heard you when you got up to your feet, his mind floating above his body as he tried to get himself back together. With the little force that he still had inside him, Hoseok leaned on his elbows and stared at you like you were made of gold. “Fuck, ____.” He breathed out, and the only thing he could say was, “What the fuck?” 

You giggled at his reaction, thumb cleaning a bit of cum that had painted the corner of your mouth. “I appreciate your feedback,” you teased, pointing over your shoulder, to where your desk stood, forgotten. “Now that you have your answer, can I study in peace?” 

“Y-Yeah, sure,” he struggled to say. “I’ll... stay quiet.” 

You smiled brightly. “Thanks!” 

He thought about thanking you right back for giving him the best orgasm of his life, but he thought that would make everything much more pathetic. So he didn’t. 

Hoseok eventually found the motivation within him to put his cock back inside his underwear, clumsily pulling his pants back up. He found himself in the same position he was before everything went down: dumbfounded, staring at the back of your head as you worked on your textbook. The red numbers on the clock told him that just ten minutes had passed, and yet his life had completely changed. 

All that he wanted was to return the favor — it was the fair exchange, after all. Hoseok sat up at the edge of the bed and spoke up, filled by a newfound courage. “Wait. Don’t you want me to take ca—”

“Shut the fuck up, Hoseok.” 

His mouth fell shut and his courage deflated just as quickly. Maybe another time.

[in-tua-deep]

Are you into my hero academia? What about an AU or crossover with tua?

UHHHH I am technically, like, peripherally? I watched some seasons of the show like two or three years ago and since then have simply absorbed all content through osmosis, reading fanfiction that has canon events, and my sister telling me about the arcs of her fav characters lmao

so a crossover hmmm

First of all you'd have to like, establish whether bnha is an alternate universe or just The Future If No Apocalypse with quirks being traced back to the descendants of the kids born without mothers

So let's say it's that - the glowing baby was the "first quirk" but the truth is people had powers before that. But - well, the Umbrella Academy was obviously a marketing gimmick to those in the future! There were even comics based on them

In the future, you might find some of those comics in museum exhibits dedicated to depictions of powers in the pre-quirk era, but they're just fun depictions and much less popular than, oh, DC or MCU comics which are also in the exhibits!

End of s2 doesn't happen I guess in this au?? No sparrow academy at least lmao. So, the Umbrella Academy stop the apocalypse (again) and the Commission threat is? Neutralized? Whatever. They decide to jump back to the future

Five warns them that time travel is a crapshoot, that he has no fucking idea when they'll land beyond some nebulous "future" because Five can at least control the direction if not exactly how long

Also, Five is like. Super tired. Incredibly tired. Homeboy still has a healing gut wound, time traveled twice, has been jumping all over the place, gotten even more injured, experienced paradox psychosis, and managed to undo time all in the space of like, two weeks. There actually more than that but we don't have time to get into how fucking tired Five is from his ~Month of Hell

Like genuinely this is like putting someone almost delirious from lack of sleep in the driver's seat of a car and expecting to get to your destination in one piece

But hey, the siblings are like "do it uwu" and Five has sacrificed everything for them already so why not get behind the wheel again

So Five jumps them, and of course something goes wrong because Five has pushed his powers like a great big rubber band and honestly it was only a matter of time before he lost his grip and it snapped back to hit him

So here be the umbrella academy: spilled out into the future like a cup of bad coffee.

Five probably isn't in too good of shape tbh, like they're hundreds of years in the future (but hey at least confirmation of no apocalypse am I right) in a world full of superpowers and Five is like. bleeding from his ears and nose probably idk

Let's handwave a little bit - Reginald made them all polyglots so the squad all speak varying levels of Japanese. Allison is the best at it, Five is second best but tends to use more archaic words bc he had missions in Japan back when he was with the commission, and Klaus is third best.

(Ben is the worst bc he decided when he was 16-and-dead that he didn't have to do anything regarding lessons and maintenance and hasn't given a shit since - but also he's dead so)

So you have a bunch of weird adults with a bleeding child in like, an alley who have appeared from nowhere

so of course heroes get involved

Anyway, the squad get taken in and Five is conscious but like, barely? And he's not going to let himself get separated from his siblings again fuck-you-officer and there is a lot of confusion

anyway detective tsukauchi ends up getting involved and ends up having to hear this batshit story and be like "...truth." which sends all kinds of people scrambling because fucking time travel? Like yeah, it's been theorized to be a possible quirk but there's no recorded cases of any sort of time travel that is for more than 24 hours let alone hundreds of years

"I'm an adult." Five says sourly, "I just happened to be returned to my 13 year old body when I time traveled one time."

"True." Tsukauchi says, feeling his soul leave his body, but like. absently. the way he does when he's called in at 2am after getting off of work at midnight.

"I'm 58." Five says.

"Lie." Tsukauchi says, because this is a headcanon hill I will die on.

"I'm probably 58, but it was hard to keep track. I'm at least 50." Five corrects.

"True." Tsukauchi sighs like these six (seven? they keep referring to another sibling and Klaus said 'ghost' like that was fine and it registered as true and Tsukauchi is not nearly paid enough for this) are not giving him a migraine by just existing

on the bright side there's like, probably protocols in place for individuals who are Legally Chronologically Adults but thanks to quirks are Not Physically Or Not Mentally Adults with tests to determine if the individual needs a guardian or not

though i'm gonna be honest idk if Five would pass the test bc he literally cannot take care of himself at all, has never paid taxes or understands how to exist legally, and also his emotional maturity is stunted as all hell. also like. we don't actually know how much being in his thirteen-year-old body affects his mental state but yeAH Five is vibing

anyway Tsukauchi probably phones a friend on this bullshit because Time Travel Child alone is probably enough for the Hero Commission to be like "find a way to control and use it or nuke it from orbit" and that's not even touching whatever the fuck Klaus is doing (shit gets real once 'dead men tell no tales' stops being true) let ALONE Allison's whole deal

on the bright side like, at least Vanya isn't getting side-eyed that much bc Big Destructive Quirks aren't exactly unknown? if vanya wanted to i guess quirk suppressors exist for that until extensive training on how to control a super powerful quirk happens

Tsukauchi in the group chat: Aizawa please I am literally begging you to take this bullshit on

Aizawa: in this economy? with my class?

RatGod: lol we'll take them ;3c

Aizawa: no

Anyway they probably end up having to live at UA while Five insists on trying to get them home still and everyone else is like "oh hey we used to be child soldiers as well! (:" and Aizawa is like "i hate everything about this and everything about all of you but also like nedzu is making me interact with you so :/"

nedzu is out here vibing like "lol i just don't want the hero commission to get their little paws on these time traveling fuckers, i think you should make then teaching assistants or something"

honestly the siblings are probably like. figuring out how to function in the bnha universe and getting like, legally registered and stuff while Five ferally refuses bc that's like saying he's giving up on getting them home and he can do this

Recovery girl tries to heal him a little when he arrives and he passes out for two weeks like, immediately bc homeboy is running on fumes and spite at this point

also i think on principle it would be REALLY FUNNY if the squad got to tag along with the class bc like. Five is thirteen and the class are all 15. this does not sound like a large age gap. anyone who has interacted with teenagers know that the class would squint at Five and be like "who is this sassy lost middle schooler."

I feel like when I was a sophomore we were still like "freshman... babie" even though we were literally only one year older.

i think the difference between the umbrella academy and school kids would be pretty funny like. objectively the bnha kids are lowkey child soldiers?? like they're 15 and fighting villains but like, there's all this red tape and laws and stuff but,,, deku still be breaking his limbs in a child fighting ring against equally superpowered children for like. entertainment and sponsorships sooo

but also like Five would be like "oh cool when is the experimentation class"

"the what"

"you know, when your powers are pushed real hard by putting you in different terrible situations while your dad and sibling stand by with clipboards writing down the exact voltage it takes before you can't use your powers anymore when being electrocuted"

"hound dog's office is right there. therapy is available to you at any time. i need you to know this."

all might calls Luther "my boy" like one (1) time and Luther just breaks down crying probably because he is starved for positive attention

klaus and midnight get along like a literal house on fire, aizawa tried his best to keep them apart for as long as possible but god damn

(klaus: your name is shimura nana??

all might: immediately dies choking on blood)

i feel it absolutely necessary to point out that aizawa, present mic, and midnight are all like, 30? and the umbrella academy are all between 29-early 30s? they are PEERS but like. the umbrella academy are more chaotic due to childhood trauma

the umbrella academy probably get offered to like. also train to be heroes. i mean,, there HAS to be some sort of track for people who change careers right?? you don't have to cement your future as a hero when you're 15 i'm sure there must be something and the squad already have experience if they want to go be legal heroes

diego probably does at least?? diego just vibes honestly. diego gets momo to make knives during a team exercise and they just go feral on everyone else and it ends with diego highfiving momo and someone getting way to close to being stabbed for comfort

Five might just be. legally enrolled as an Actual Student? But also i think it's funny to picture the entire squad just. all in the back of the classroom with luther trying to fit into a high school desk as they take notes on the laws of The Future surrounding heroics

every word out of the umbrella academy's mouths just make everyone more concerned on principal but like, five and klaus are probably the worst offenders. Klaus just says whatever comes to mind with no filter and Five doesn't get what people would consider to be abnormal anymore like

Five: yeah our dad bought us when we were babies and experimented on us throughout our childhood in order to make an elite team of child soldiers superheroes, it happens

Todoroki: ...have you heard of quirk marriages?

izuku probably has an aneurism bc he's is the only person who might recognize them from the comics because you know ya boy extensively researched the idea of heroics in pre-quirk eras (batman was an inspiration alright???) and might dredge up a memory of a less popular comic series

Five: I can time travel but it is very hard, which is why we are hundreds of years in the future. And why I look like a child.

Kaminari: so are you a kid or not?

Five, serenely: whatever is most convenient for me at any given moment

Mina: hell yeah game the system

they have a brief lesson on astronomy and Luther raises his hand like "ooh! i was isolated on the moon for four years and did SO MUCH research" and then just gets up and starts infodumping like way too much information on the moon

Izuku sitting there like "damn if quirks hadn't popped up we could have achieved so much in terms of space travel. please tell me more giant man who lived in pre-quirk era."

Vanya finds out about the quirkless and is like "oh mood that genuinely sounds like my childhood, being ordinary in a house full of extraordinary people, and then i found out that i did have powers but only much later in life after i had already been emotionally scarred by the experience"

deku: vanya we have so much in common

iida and uraraka: concerned noises

aizawa: hound dog. therapy with hound dog for all of you.

there's probably some conflict with like, the hero commission wanting to get their hands on the time travelers?? but probably especially five and klaus as a) time travel and b) ghosts (the hc def has bodies they would like to stay buried)

five has a pavlovian reaction to anything with 'commission' in the name and hates them on site, probably plays into his age in order to become a ward of UA or something to protect him from the commission a little bit.

(this makes nedzu Five's legal guardian. aizawa has his resignation papers all prepped in a drawer marked 'in case of emergency' but let's be real, if nedzu wants to take over the world aizawa should probably be on the rat-bear's side of things :/)

five: ah, i do recall the inhumane experimentation that we were subjected to

nedzu, who was experimented on: haha same hat! want me to dig up the location of reginald hargreeves's remains so you can spit on them?

klaus: nah no worries we dumped them out in the courtyard unceremoniously like, a while back. how long ago varies for each of us because of time travel!

luther: you said hound dog's office was down the hall and to the right?

on the bright side, Luther probably feels like. way less self conscious about his body, partially bc of his fighting and all that in the 60s but also bc !! now he genuinely doesn't feel like a freak. no one even gives him a second glance. one of the teachers looks like a slab of cement with a face. gang orca looks Like That. there is literally a student with an entire bird head and goth aesthetic. Luther does not stick out at all

allison and shinso bond over having "villainous" voice-based quirks

allison and shinso having worn muzzles at some point in their youth as punishment 🤝

aizawa probably helps train vanya as well with the whole, being able to erase a world ending quirk safely thing he's got going on which makes for a very nice safety net

i don't think vanya would want to be a hero at the end of things though. maybe the assistant teacher in the music class or something?? all vanya wants is to be able to not end the world

i feel like as time goes by, five brings up trying to get home less and less. part of that is because like,,, genuinely what do they have to go back to?? Allison has Claire, but like. I'm 100% sure the first thing she did in the future was try track down Claire's records and found out Claire was like. fine. became an adult, had a family, probably became the ancestor of the first "quirked" kids who officially popped up after light baby. had a good life, died at an old age etc. etc.

they start settling into the bnha world with like, "we can always hop aboard the five express into where the fuck ever" as a plan Z if things go completely pear shaped (again)

i'mma be real, five himself doesn't give a fuck as long as there is a) no apocalypse and b) his family is alive. Like that's it. His bar is so incredibly low and yet his life keeps fucking trying to limbo under it

i just think it would be funny to have like, Five trying to get along with his "peers" and make friends while the siblings do the same but like, in the staff room

also think it would be funny for five to just walk into the staff room and get coffee occasionally.

a teacher: why is a student in here -

Five, sipping coffee: i'm an adult

nedzu like "what kind of guardian would i be if i didn't teach my new son all the tunnels around ua so he can pop out wherever"

five like "hey new dad can i put stashes of supplies all around ua of weapons, money, food, and other assorted things that might be useful if one needed to fight or make a run for it" and nedzu is like "haha just put your list of what supplies you want in your go bags on my desk and i'll critique it later!"

anyway a bnha/tua crossover would be incredibly chaotic but probably very funny