#„Its so sad that there are no force users my age

[roseraintears]

So apperantly the new Rey movie is called „New beginning“

Which makes me think about Baylan and his mission to find a „new beginning

Could Rey be going to Peridea in that movie?

Will she finish what Baylan started by ending the conflict between light and dark but in a less extreme way?

[dilf-docs]

I'm Happy Where The Devils Are

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: something something about forbidden things; you never learn, not until the heart you gave returns to you in shreds, bleeding out of love. what's left when you've given all of your heaven away? hell.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (but this time it's sad not hot or both idk), smut, p. in v., virgin!reader, (forced??) creampie, fingering, riding, oral (f. receiving), corruption kink, reader has no daddy issues ++her dad is lovely nor mommy issues like me but a secret third thing, ANGST IN CAPITAL, situationship��, jumping very late to this trend or series IDK hope someone still lurks around this neighbourhood, joel has no kids and is unmarried cause i need him to be BITTER, in short this is very AU canon divergence at max coded

word count: 7,629 words

side note: IF U SAW IT POSTED BEFORE NO U DIDN'T IT WAS A HONEST MISTAKE (clicked publish instead of save draft) OKAY i just searched thru my top 2024 songs by spotify for some inspo and well!!!!!! my yet to be dilf RM's (or joon as i, his wife, loves to call him endearingly) song called heaven popped up! those are the vibes if u wanna give it a listen (PLS DO OKAY HE RANKED TOP KOREAN ALBUM THIS YEAR AND I SEE I'M GETTING OFF THE HOOK BUT HE DESERVES IT RAHH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH) and yk i said it's got the miller vibe going on: ANGST™ okay stopping my rambling and letting y'all enjoy (or suffer, idk anymore: as u see, i have a thing for sad complicated old man and suffering myself, because i could've choose any other idea but here goes user dilf-docs the angst whore choosing to suffer again lolz)

part: I / II

It was winter when he first touched you.

Joel Miller: a name you've learned to pronounce like it was spoken on a different language that only you knew.

You've known him for years, a familiar face that stands in corners and only laughs when spoken to, begrundingly, like it's rather a favor than something of his amusement. A guy who would drop by your house until you learned his name like he'd learn the games you'd force him to play. A friend of your dad, who moved back to town and has haunted your house since he stepped a foot inside, tainting the walls with his pine phantom.

Joel's a face you've seen age as much as he's seen you grow out of your pigtails and child-like wonder: and perhaps that's why it's wrong.

It is all so wrong: the way your gaze lingers a bit too long over his tired and bitter expresion, looking for those flickers of softeness that appear when your dad calls him. Old friend, filled with affection, and Joel can't deny the only man who hasn't left his side a smile that he hopes is enough to express what he can't; he's not good with words.

It is all so wrong: how the sheets stick to your body while you scream his name, the sound drowning against your pillow, your body leaking with the secret of an unspoken desire that gets harder to hide with each passing day.

But you can't help it: one day the feelings started to blossom and the admiration left for the crush to harvest until it fully bloomed in your chest. Its petals have asfixiated you ever since.

On winter, you returned to town, like a vice. You always came back for the holidays, a silver of hope that shouldn't exist. You felt it in the air, impregnated with a heartbreak so cutting, it was hard to remember when the winter carried the happiness it should've; all that's left was the cold, harsh feeling.

"Y/n!" your dad embraces your body on a hug as warm as a fireplace, "you're home"

He passes you around the people over, because that's how he always is: joyful, the house full with guests that don't stop at family, but feel as close as those of blood. She came! he loudly yet proudly announces your homecoming, adding small sprinkles of how's college and how smart his little girl is (a nickname he can't let go of, not caring if you were ten then and now just above twenty), not caring if your face is as red as christmas easters.

"You have to stop, dad" you plead with annoyance, but a small smile betrays you, "no one wants to hear how I'm top of my class again, for the millionth time"

"Well, it's my house" he jokes, "so they better get used to it" he then looks around the room, as if he's forgetting something, "ah, someone I must bore with your stories is missing..."

He talks to some more people around and you have to plaster a smile and salute faces you can't recognize, but as on cue, the door flings open, some people near the entrance greeting a face you've yet to see and recognize. Your father gets there first, the smile that spreads across his face making your stomach tie in knots.

"Joel's here!" he delivers with excitement, unaware of how your polite smile falters.

"Joel's here" you repeat, grief laced within your words. Grief of what? You don't know, but you do know a part of you dies the more you look at Joel Miller the way you're not supposed to.

"Come say hi" your father insists, happy in his ignorance, despite your paced walk and stiff demeanor.

And walking your way is him, the man who owns your heart without knowing.

His hair is still as soft as ever, more tints of grey sprinkled through it. Your fingers itch to trace it, so you keep your fists closed until the red nails dig into the tight white flesh. He has more wrinkles, pronounced when his brows furrow at the sight of you.

"I know she's grown a lot, but I hope you still recognize her" your dad says with affection, "isn't she beautiful, my y/n? Grown into a whole lady"

Your heart hammers against your chest as Joel looks you up and down, but there is no emotion across his face.

"It's only been a year, but sure, she has" as stoic as ever, but it's enough to make your nerves wreck. You can't believe how much a simple stare and a few words can get to you.

But you were always like this: weak. Back then, at kindergarten grounds, when making a friend seemed the hardest task. Now, at university, when you wonder if something is wrong with you that always makes you the last option to choose.

Maybe that's why Joel, a man so strong in appearance and character, never liked you: that all those memories were a dream, and he just did it as an extension of his affection for your dad.

You'll never forget that dinner last year, on these same days, when for the first time, both your parents left you alone with Joel, their guest for the night. There was a storm outside, and it was almost funny how the brash wind against the window mimicked your steady heart. You didn't know he was coming, but when you did, you put on your best dress on purpose and dusted a makeup palette a friend gave you, yet he didn't even look your way.

"Do you hate me, Joel?" you asked in a whispered breathe, the cold silence as answer.

It's contradictory, really: your love grows where his hate does. More like hate, it's a disregard so cruel, you can't help but wonder if there's something wrong with you, making you attached to an older man that only seems to have apathy for you. Because one thing is attraction, but other is the deep adoration where you'd die if he were to ask you.

It's your fault, really, for turning his life into folklore. You still remember sitting on your father's lap as he talked your ear off, full of stories that Joel, always by his side, would quietly laugh, the fireplace casting shadow over a man who seemed to overpower the darkness that now is palpable on his gaze. He'd said your dad was making him greater than he really was, pinching your cheeks as he called you sugar, reasoning you were so sweet.

But since last year, something shifted: he started avoiding you, like he resented you.

And you never understood why. So every season you've searched in his eyes for a sign, anything, that can make you go back to that speacial relationship you had, missing him like a little kid. It's been a year, and you feel, if possible, more at loss than before.

Back to now, it's almost midnight, and most of the guests have gone already. You've tried to look cool in the eyes of those who are still there, conversation flowing easily through your eggnog-tinted tongue, yet you know it's all pretend.

"Excuse me" you can't take it anymore, the air suffocating you in anxiousness.

"Where are you going?" questions your mom, stopping you in your tracks before going up the stairs.

You turn around and feign a smile, "Up to my room"

"Are you okay?" your dad asks with worry.

"Yeah, just tired" you lie with ease, and the miles you've driven back it up.

"If you need anything, just tell" she says.

When you fall against the mattress, all the weight settles in. You close your eyes and count to ten, breathing in and breathing out.

The door creaks, so you get up as you open your eyes. "Dad" you start, knowing he's all about giving you talks, "Not now, please-"

"M' not y'r daddy"

You shiver despite the closed windows.

"Joel!" you jump, straightening yourself, "did dad send you?"

He doesn't respond, looking at you through brown warm eyes that reveal nothing. The pit in your stomach grows along awkward silence.

"It's cold outside, isn't it?" you attempt to make conversation, hating the silence. But you fail: he's still here, and regardless of his indifference, he doesn't leave.

Maybe it's the bit of alcohol from before, but you're standing over until you get close to his resting figure against the doorframe, the darkness of your room leaving his face, now barely lit by the light outside in the hallway. Joel's so close you can hear his breathing, and it surprises you the way it drags like a cigarette.

You feel confident for the first time, defiant even, tired of it all, like if it was his fault you loved him. You're sick of him viewing you like a naive kid who knows no better.

"Joel, why are you here?"

The lavender gets under his nose, his skin on fire. He looks at you again, but this time, the brown in his eyes darkens.

"Joel...?" you ask on a shaky breath.

Before you can register, there's warmth against your cheek. His fingers graze your face with an unspoken yearning on his fingertips, as he gently grabs your chin.

Your breath hitches, hand traveling to feel his on your face, to see if it's real and not a dream.

"Joel, what are you doing?"

He backs up, like your touch burns. And then looks at you, as if you're a stone on his shoe: just like all those boys back at the city, who have rejected you. You feel small, like crying.

"M' sorry" and walks out of your room, his scent up your nose. His limping figure walks down the hallway that now looks longer. You don't realize how long you've stared until you hear your father ask downstairs where was he.

It's like he was never there.

It was spring when he first kissed you.

It's funny how you still came back home after such disastrous holidays.

Joel stayed for the rest of the holidays, including Christmas and New Years, and when he hugged you in the living room full of guests, you had to pretend his fingers hadn't hold you differently before. You both lied your way out, and when you left, for the first time, you felt relieved, which is why it took some convincing from your father to make you return for spring.

"You couldn't miss this" he insists, "it's the best time to visit the cabin"

And you have to agree: a small cabin by the lake that your parents bought when they first moved in to town, a place you spent most of your childhood. Your father taught you how to fish there, and ever since, even as you moved away for college, you came back to do so, a tradition kept intact despite the years.

Your mom looks at you from the rear view mirror. "He wouldn't stop talking about it, afraid you wouldn't join us this year" your dad hushes her, embarrased, "oh! Don't act like you didn't"

Truth is, you'd still come: you miss the green tickling your bare feet, the cold water, and the sun kissing your skin as you lay outside. It's a lie you don't wait all year to leave the cold city and embrace the blooming spring.

"I wouldn't miss it for anything, dad" you lay against the car's door, closing your eyes as you smile. He doesn't say anything, yet with the way your mom giggles, you know he probably got teary or something―your sappy old man.

The car stops, the cabin in front of you. You feel like crying, so many memories flooding you. Alright, you're being sappy just like your dad, but it's been a hard semester and you missed your family.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you something" he says as you get out. The small denim short rides up as you stretch, your legs numb from the trip.

"Yeah?"

A car honks from behind. You jump, loosing balance as you trip. "Ow!" you land on the grass, embarrasingly so.

"C'mere" you look up, the sun blinding his face. "Lemme help ya', sugar"

The nickname feels like a slap to your face, so you stay there stupid, body stiff as you raise up, Joel's face flooding your field of vision.

"That's what I forgot to tell you" your dad laughs, "or who"

You're not laughing. Joel Miller is here and it's ruines your trip.

"Well, you should've" you took his hand just for the show, because you know your mom is observant. If there was an electric rush, you must've imagined it, just as the way his hands fall to his sides, twitching.

Over the next couple of days, you try to ignore him as much as you can, pretending your spring hasn't changed: fishing, laying down, sun and baths.

"Hey"

Your sun glasses rest on your nose as you raise from your spot, laying on a towel on the grass as you sunbathe.

"What'd want, Joel?" your tone is icy, contrasting the warmer climate.

"M' going to the lake" he mumbles, then stays silent. It's almost as if he's waiting for you to answer.

"Okay?" you lay down again, "have fun"

"Y'r dad said you'd teach me" he raises a fishing row.

You groan in annoyance, getting up from your spot, "why doesn't he do it?"

"Said y'r the best" then coughs, "besides, I think him and your momma needed some time alone..."

You walk past, shoulder brushing against his. You've never been this childish before, but your anger fuels your emotions: rage when you see him and remember how the warm of his touch turned cold in seconds.

You arrive at the small dock, sitting on the rather hot wood. You don't flinch, trying to prove nothing. Joel sits next to you and makes a face at the burning sensation.

"What?" you mock, venom dripping from your tone, "can't handle some heat?"

He just scoffs, passing the row to you with a little more force than necessary.

Your petty revenge is splashing his shirt, damping the cotton with the lake's water.

"I'm sorry" you apologize, feigning an innocent tone, "wanted to freshen up"

"Thought ya could handle the heat" Joel grumbles.

Then he curses under his breath, taking the shirt off and tossing it to the side.

You take in now shirtless body, admiring the strong muscles, broad shoulders and sturdy back. He sits next to you, his belly pushing just above the seam of his shorts. You recoil, almost as if heat radiated off his body, your cheeks burning. Your hands tremble as you hold the row, and it takes every strength of you to not succumb to the dangerous view; it's all too tempting.

"Y'r gonna teach me or what?" he breaks your train of thoughts, his voice so low, as if you were a little animal he was trying not to scare off, "just gonna stare? Ain't y'r daddy taught ya some manners?"

A current shoots through your body and looses itself in the middle of your legs.

You divert your gaze, ashamed. "Don't know what you're talking about"

"Liar" but it's so soft, it sounds more like an observation than an accusation.

"Drop it, Joel" you focus on the water but you know your mind is elsewhere.

"Sugar..."

You feel like throwing up. Why after ignoring you is he calling you like he used to? When he was your favorite person in the world and you were his. He used to hold you close, but now acts like your touch is poisoned. Joel confuses you too much; he's got you feeling like screaming at the sky.

"I said drop it, Joel" you seethe, "you may be old, but you're not deaf"

"And you may be young" his fingers remove the glasses from your face, your wary eyes in exhibit, "but y'r too bold"

They stay there, on your face, his rough fingertips touching your soft sun-kissed skin.

You don't know why you do it, but you do.

You get up, your legs on his face. Until then, you don't realize how close you two were.

"I'm not bold, Joel" you whisper, "I'm scared"

And then you jump.

The world reduces to a blur, body as light as a feather. The sensation of falling is familiar and you don't know why.

It's barely a second, like a blink.

The cold water hitting your body brings you back to reality.

You can't see, it's all dark. But you feel free: you may be underwater, but over him.

You feel like you got the upper hand, but then the water starts moving and a huge splash next to you makes you look back.

Joel jumped too.

"What are you doing?!" you shout.

What are you doing to me? What do you want from me? What will you do to me?

"Takin' a splash" he answers, like it's obvious.

"You know what I meant" your tone is rather spiteful.

"And you had'a teach me" he's again in front of you, barely inches away, "so I guess we're both dissapointed we didn't get what we wanted"

There's water dripping from his hair, falling to his face. Water drops adorn his eyelashes, warm eyes deeper than ever, and you feel like drowning even as your body floats.

"And what do you want?" you challenge, the question implying only so much.

His lips clash into yours, hungry like a wolf. Your hands immediately grip his neck for support as his tongue forcefully gets inside of you, water droplets filling your taste buds. You gasp for air, all of your body pressed against his.

"That answer y'r question?" tone defiant, as if he's also a player on this game that's just started.

You just don't know yet how much you've got to loose.

It was summer when he became yours.

You'd never anticipated coming back home as much as now.

The lingering feeling of his scruffy beard against yours, back pressed against the walls of the shed at midnight while he devoured your lips in a hungry kiss has stayed with you since you left the cabin, trapped in the salt air. Now you're coming back for more, butterflies in the low of your belly as you remember his words:

"When y'get back, I'll have ya' a surprise"

You park at your house, searching for the keys under the rug, but they aren't there. You knock to no answer, so you call your dad and mom, only for both of the calls to go directly to voicemail. Yes, you came a day earlier than planned, but your parents are always home the week you arrive, so something must be going on.

Before you worry, a voice behind you says:

"Ain't nobody inside. Y'r folks went out"

It's Joel, looking as good as the last day you saw him. Just to taste him again, you were complaint on every single of his requirements, one being no contact. He claimed he didn't want to distract you back at college, and you didn't ask any more questions, afraid you'd press a wrong button and loose what felt like a dream.

"Really?" you walk out of your porch to where he is, resisting the urge to kiss him in the middle of your neighbourhood's street.

"Hmh" he nods, "said they ain't comin' back soon"

"They told you so?" you question, "why do I feel you had something to do with it?"

"Ain't do shit" he crosses his arms, the t-shirt sleeves making his arm muscles more prominent. He then coughs, "just recommended y'r dad a nice restaurant outside town. Maybe they'll be later than night, traffic is kinda packed at late"

You smile, "Joel?"

He doesn't look at you, "yes?"

You fail to suppress a giggle, "did you just get rid of my parents?"

"No" he answers, stern. "Now" he looks around, all doors closed, "why don't 'cha come inside? Sun is hittin' hard"

He's a terrible liar.

As soon as you enter his house, you can't believe you've never been there before, visits usually in your house.

It's exactly what you expected: a simple and sober decoration that hides a welcoming feeling somewhere. There's something else you notice: the lack of pictures.

"Make yourself comfortable" he says, coughing, looking akward all of a sudden. You want to laugh and coo his now insecure demeanor, shy in your present. If he seemed sure before, he doesn't anymore. "I''ll get ya' some water"

"Joel?" your voice comes out low, equalling a purr. His cock twitches in his pants at the way you call him.

"Yes?" he swallows, adam's apple bobbing.

"I hope you didn't bring me into your house just for a glass" then you sit on the couch, the small short you're wearing riding up your thighs. "Besides, I'm not thirsty"

He doesn't move, almost as if he's lost the ability to react; in a trance.

"What do you want?" voice deep, like he'd give you anything you ask.

"Have you forgot already, old man?" you quip. "You promised me something" even if your voice is steady, your fingers tremble when you start un-buttoning your shirt, "and I'm waiting for it"

If he could drool like a dog, he would. He slowly gets closer to you, until he's towering over your sitting figure.

"Ya' think it's funny tempting me like that, sugar? Playing with an old fuck as me like that?"

You whimper, resolve melting quickly. "N-no" you feel ashamed, hand ready to button yourself again until his hand grabs yours, stopping you from doing so.

"I'm sorry, sugar" he raises your body swiftly, making you stand up. "Actions have consequences, and I'm gonna teach ya' some"

When his lips land on yours, you feel you've reached heaven again. His mouth easily know your roads, traveling to every spot he can to deepen the kiss. He eats you out like he's starved, sweat starting to pool in your foreheads. He grabs you by the waist, pulling your closer if possible, your chest clashing against his pecs. His heart hammers against you, and that's all you hear aside your raggedy breaths and famished clashing. You grab his hair again, feeling the soft texture under your fingers. Joel moans against your lips when you bite his, something a friend told you to do, and it's proven to work.

"Where'd you learn that, huh?" you taste like strawberries, the proof on his now coated shiny lips and your disheveled gloss. His grip turns stronger, "thought ya' were innocent, little vixen"

"I still am" you avoid his gaze, and even if his hold falters, when you look again into his eyes, there's a flame burning in them. "But I want you to have it, Joel"

"Sugar-" starts, condescending.

"Don't" you immediatly cut him off. "I'm an adult, I know what I want"

"I just want ya' to be sure" but his cock is already hard, "don't want ya' to regret it"

"I could never regret you, Joel" you whisper.

He picks up your body, that despite the years, is still as strong as ever. He goes up the stairs, looking at you so lovingly, you feel like anything is possible.

Maybe this is how it feels like.

He softly drops you onto the mattress, that dips under your weight. You place yourself against the bed head, and when Joel gets in, it creaks.

"I'm gonna make ya' feel so good, sugar. I promise" he slurs, "Now be a good girl and open up for me"

Your part your legs, and he's taking down your shorts until your lingerine is exposed. With wandering fingers, he traces your inner thights, delighted at the way you squirm under his touch. He then travels to your pussy, the clothe the only thing separating him from your bare cunt.

"Has anyone eat ya' down here before?" he can smell your arousal, seeing the wet spot in the middle of your panties. He's salivating at the fresh meal. You deny, embarrased, but he seems content at that, "those dumb college boys haven't treated you right? Then lemme show y'how a real man's supposed to eat ya'"

He strips you off your panties, landing somewhere on the floor. You shudder at the sudden breeze on your bare core.

"Already drippin' for me?" he softly laughs, "we ain't even started"

He dives down, the rough of his facial hair sending tickles through your body. He gives a small lick at first, as if testing. When you let out a small moan, he feels invencible. He keeps the ministrations going, more cute sounds escaping your lips. He wants to hear more of them, addicted to the sound, heat pooling when he remembers he's the one causing them.

"Liking it, sugar?" he stops to ask, his voice provoking more vibrations that hit your core in a pleasant way.

"D-don't stop" you plead in the middle of a whine.

He eats you like a madman. Slurping and sloshing sounds bounce off the walls, your hands gripping his greying locks tightly as his face pushes further into your puffy heat, sucking on the sensitive clit. With his filthy mouth, he takes on of the lips on his mouth, robbing a loud groan out of you.

"Your pussy, God" his breath fans against it, "tastes so good, sugar, sweet like you" he licks more, making it get wetter. You didn't know you had that in you, nothing compared to when you tried to touch yourself back at your dorm, too ashamed to try anything else.

He groans against your heat, sending another wave of pleasure through your body.

He then gets up, showing you his thick digits like one shows something new to a baby, "guess what?" you have no idea, and your innocent doe eye'd gaze makes him squirm at the thought of being the first to touch untainted territories (in many ways).

"M' gonna finger you baby, okay? I promise's gonna feel good" Joel assures as he slowly inserts one of his fingers. You arch your back as you felt his fingers in your warm walls. He then puts another, thick fingers in and out of your pussy, your arousal dripping down his wrist. You squirm and whine, thighs shaking at the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. There's a weird tension happening down there. "J-Joel" you pant, "I feel-" 

"Let it go, sugar" he doesn't stop, "I'm here for ya' and y'r sweet cunt"

Liquid soon gushes out. "Fuck" he curses. You shy away and looking everywhere but his eyes. 

"Feels good?" you nodded incoherently, "wanna feel even better?"

He gets rid of his pants, the silhoutte hard under his underwear. You gulp, afraid you might not take it.

"Joel..." you call his name, hesitant. Fuck, he's so horny he could care less if he's too big for your first.

"We'll go slow" he leans forward to kiss your forehead, "I know'll take it"

"O-okay" you're still not sure and a bit afraid, but you want him, so you surrender to him.

You feel something heavy go inside your folds. You look down to see his enormous cock sliding in between your tight walls, the skin glistening in your slick,round tip leaking with his precum.

"Tell me" he's soft on you, despite what you're doing, "I'll stop if it hurts"

It does. It burns: how your cunt tries to adapt to his girth, stretching in a painful but delicious feeling.

"N-no" your voice comes out strained, drops of blood falling into the sheets, "keep going"

"Such a greedy thing are ya'?" Joel laughs, truly laughs, the rich sound coming deep from his chest, "what would daddy say?"

"Shut up" you bite, holding onto his shoulders for stability. Please, don't let me fall.

Half way in, he pulls out before diving back in, helping you adjust to his size slowly. Your eyes are trained on the way his cock disappears inside your leaking pussy.

"Should'I keep goin'?" he asks.

"K-keep going" you say softly, and with that, he gently starts inching into you.

"Good girl" he coos.

His cock stretches out your virgin hole perfectly, like it was meant for him. He feels himself melting at the sight of you, something to worry about later. Not now, when your breath hitches as he fills you up. Your cunt fit snug around his length, like you were made for him.

Joel drops his head on your shoulder as he fully entered you, tired, his energy not as much as when he was young. Beads of summer sweat shimmer in your bodies, as not only that but the feeling of your pussy wrapped around his dick make you warm.

Joel takes in a moment to see the mess he's made of you: parted lips, shut eyes, nails digging on his neck. You were deep in pleasure: because of him. His dick twitches at that, and inside of you, it makes you whimper.

"M' gonna start movin', 'kay? Tell me if it's too much"

His weight presses over your body before starting to pull out and push back in. The thrusts start slow, soon picking up a rhytmic pace. Joel grips your hips with his rough big hands, to then start fucking into you.

"Mhm" you whine.

"Mhm, what? Use your words, sugar"

"I-it feels so good, Joel" despite the pain, despite the doubts, the haze is so envolving, he's made of you a moaning mess, drunk in pleasure; the feeling of him inside of you has you seeing stars.

"Y-you feel good too, baby" he pants, your pussy gushing at each thrust. He starts going harder, making you scream.

"Who you belong to, sugar?" his hot breath pours in your ear, "say it"

"You, Joel" you whisper the answer like a sacred oath, "Just you. I'm all yours"

Before you can say anything else, his dick touches a spot within you. Such a sweet spot, that has you moaning and feeling something unlike anything you've experienced before: it washes over you as you clamp down on him. You hear yourself cry, voice barely recognizable. Your vision goes blurry, then mind blank.

Joel groans with your pretty cries of pleasure, watching the way your cunt milks his cock, drooling with your juice.

"Such a nice girl for me, sugar. Did so well" he whispers, and a dark tought crosses his mind. He feels dirty, taking advantage of your age and naivety, your figure still half-gone, "think you want me, all of me?"

You nod, still out of your mind, and before you can process the real meaning of his words, hot stripes of his seed plaster your walls, coating each inch of you. Joel presses his lips into yours to shut your moans, kissing you hard.

"You good?" you can only nod, still in shock, the events dawning over you. "Don't worry, I'll buy ya' a pill before your folks come back"

The sun shines outside; there's still time. You just wonder how much.

It was autumn when he said I love you.

Yellow and orange leaves fall in the roads not taken as you've fallen for Joel.

Ever since summer, you've been waiting for the next time to see him: sleeping with him being the last thought, touching yourself to his voice on your mind, drawing hearts in the bylines of your notes. His figure, first a dream, then a fleeting hope and now a high you need to feel once again, because you can't let go of the way he fucked you, your cries of pleasure, how your walls stretched for him and the way he held you that afternoon and the next nights you escaped your house, crossing the street under the moonlight, hiding as a criminal.

But you'd do anything to feel him, his heart beating against your chest like it was yours to bear. You need to see him, so you're doing the most stupid choice of your life.

There's a pause after you knock, and then Joel opens his door.

"Sugar!" he looks surprised, then angry and finally scared. "The fuck you doin' here? Ain't you supposed to come 'til winter?"

"I couldn't wait" you whine in desperation, clinging onto him like a koala. You'd searched for something, anything, that smelled like him back at the city, but even his flannel shirt you'd stolen had started to loose its smell.

He looks around, "do your-"

"No" you pause, "they don't know I'm here"

He curses under his breath, realizing just how much you're deep in this. He's fucked: fucked because he'll comply even if he knows this has to stop.

"I have the keys" you pick the dirt under your nails, a nervous habit of yours, "for the cabin"

Joel remembers last spring, how he ate you inside the walls of the shed, wishing for more. More came the next summer, and now you're hear again, looking at with with that look he hates: like you'd burn the world just to keep him warm.

"How'd you do that?"

"Took them last summer" you reveal your plan all along, "just in case" yet you had already made your mind before leaving town.

"Damn it, sugar" he's speechless, "you're fucking crazy"

You giggle despite the uneasiness creeping up, "just for you, Joel"

He takes you to the cabin on his car, yours already there. And you'd walked to his house? You have indeed, lost your mind.

"What're we supposed to do?" he thinks out loud.

You groan, "I don't know, Joel. But I didn't drive miles just for you to stand there"

He can't lie and say he hasn't thought about you: your lashes, soft when closed; the way his room still smelled like you even after two weeks of your parting, or how the sun seemed to highlight all your perfect spots. He even thinks of you on his bathroom while he grabs his dick, fucking himself to the memorized song of your moans and uneven breaths as he pulled in and out of you.

"Then get inside" he's demanding, and your panties wet at the tone and the voice you missed so much, "it's cold out'ere"

As soon as you close the door, he's grabbing your face with force, that it almost seems like two people fighting, not two who missed each other.

"Joel" you mumble, breathless.

"Missed ya' so much, sugar" he confesses against your lips. A trail of saliva hangs; silver of hope. "It was killin' me"

"I missed you too, Joel" you deepen the kiss, tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. "Couldn't stop thinking about you"

"Yeah?" he sits on the living room's couch, creaking under the sudden weight. "Tell me what that pretty head of yours was thinkin'"

"You" in a heartbeat, and you see his gaze go from dark to something else, lurking behind; you're scared to find out what it is.

Joel motions you to come over. You take your shoes and pants off, siting on his lap.

"Yeah-?" his voice falters, "tell me what"

"How our names sound together, how pretty you are..." you wander. "I also thought about you, all of you, inside of me"

"Watch that filthy mout of yours, sugar" he chastises but there's no anger behind his reprimand, "one summer bouncing on my cock an' y'r already a needy slut"

You whine at his words, rubbing yourself against his tight.

"D-don't" he undoes his belt and jeans, leaving only his underwear. Your desperate fingers pull them down, revealing his already pulsating cock, "don't tease this ole' man and just do the real thing"

He lets you use him, his hips rocking forwards despite his creaking bones, your swollen clit dragging against his pelvis. He sees your face, how you bite your lip as you test your needs, fucking yourself while you ride him. He lets you because: one, he's old and tired, and two, he wants to see you until he's memorized every small detail of your face. He lets you edge yourself close, crying as you feel it coming, but then he plants his feet onto the wooden floor, his boots making a hollow sound that echoes through the walls, the only other sound aside your cries, and thrusts his length up into you.

You yelp at the sudden sensation of his cock inside of you again.

"Think I'd let ya' have it all?" he mocks, "need to fuck y'r pretty pussy too; gotta have it for myself. Would ya' let me?"

You can't deny him anything.

"Yes, Joel" his hands immediatly grab your hips with a pressure so strong, you fear there'll soon be a bruise there. His cock buries fully within you. The air fills with a strong scent, just your moans and his grunts bouncing off the walls, soon warming up from the cold, the crease of his eyebrow pronounced as he realeases, coating your folds with his cum.

"God, sugar" he sounds a bit embarrased, "look at you, makin' me cum so fast"

But he's too enamoured by the sight of you on top of him, still riding him despite his quick orgasm, so he cups your face gently, the beads of sweat on your forehead falling into his hand. He feels more alive than ever, like his life has just started. Oh, he can picture it: coming home to the smell of your food, kissing the absence of the day off your mouth, to then bend you over the counter. He wants so much more, but he knows it can't be, yet, he's far too gone to even think about turning around.

You lift your hips until his cock slips out of you, using your fingers to bring it back. His cum clings to your folds as you sink back down, hips barely lifting you back up before you keep him buried inside of you. He loves watching you slide down his length, slipping in and out of your puffy cunt as his cock softens. It pushes his cum back into your cunt, sticky over your clit as it drips to your thighs.

You did bring a pill this time, so you don't care of the mess his thick flood of cum that dribbles out of you has made on your pussy and his clothes.

"Fuck" you let out, sex-filled mind speaking up. "Don't ever leave me again"

"I won't" he answers hastily, then regrets it. But you don't know that.

Instead, numbness takes over your body, the events of last hours finally draining your body. Sleep settles in, and you nest your head on Joel's sweaty shoulder.

"Lemme take you to bed" you hear his half-drowned voice, carrying your body to the main bedroom.

Joel Miller was always a mystery to you: a man who seemed impossible to break, his world hiding behind a permanent scowl. It felt like his heart was locked, seemingly unbreakable, but where he was rough, his edges had softened for you.

He places you over the bed softly, dipping next to you. Joel's strong arms embrace you, pulling your tired figure closer. His face hides in your neck and his soft belly pushes against the curve of your back, all while he presses a soft kiss to it.

"I think I love you" he murmurs to no one in particular.

But you hear.

It was winter again, when he broke your heart.

Before the holidays, you'd drop by every other weekend. Cancelling plans, waiting for his call. For his grave voice to say Come over, and you'd speed up the brakes with an urgency only he had taught you.

You'd find yourself in the cabin, loosing track of time that rushed like a bottle of wine. Kissing until your mouth was swollen and the only thing that satisfied your hunger was his lips, fucking until sunrise and his bones ached. He'd then offer a tired smile, and you'd sing a soft tune in front of the fireplace while cuddling.

They say home is where the heart is. And it felt like one.

It was during one of those escapades that you showed up with your newest adquisition: a small cursive J just above your thigh, hiding under the plaid of your skirt.

It was your first fight. He shouted at you like he had never before, scolding you like a father would to a naive kid, the hatred you hadn't seen since he touched you that night a year ago, resurfacing.

"We're loosing ourselves" his voice cracked, sounding defeated. But then he'd suck the skin around it until it turned red.

The back and forth became the only thing keeping you alive, the need for his touch as addictive and destructive as a drug.

Which is why Christmas hadn't felt this jolly since being a kid.

You're back, and as you hug your dad and mom, you scour the place for his face: the one you've grown to yearn and love.

Your dad exchanges a glance with your mother and then looks at you weirdly before answering.

"He isn't coming; I thought you knew"

You don't care about the future explanations or the calls of your name, storming off and crossing the street to his place.

"Joel!" you shout, knocking desperately, "open the door!"

When you don't get an answer, you search for the spare key hiding under a pot in the porch. As you make your way inside, you spot Joel sitting in front of the fireplace, his eyes lost in the fire.

"Joel" you softly call his name. At that, he snaps, standing up. His eyes glow with the flames, circling in doubt.

"Sugar?" like he didn't expect you to actually search him on his absence, "what'd doing here?"

"I could ask you the same" you laugh, sardonically. "Don't know how I'll explain running off like that, so thanks, by the way"

"M' sorry"

The words fall heavy in the air, suddenly thick. Something tells you he isn't apologizing exactly for that.

There's something like guilt and fear simmering in his eyes. You think about all those times in the cabin, spring and autumn, and you're reminded of those three words he's said and you haven't. The realization hits you, and you're quick to reach him, grabbing his hand.

"Joel?" you call again. "I- I need to tell you something"

"So do I" but he sounds reluctant, "you go first"

"I don't know what's happening" your lip quivers, eyes glossy. God, he feels terrible, "but I want you to know that I love you"

He gasps, like you've slapped him across the face.

"No" he starts, pushing you away. He lets go of your hand, and the sudden cold hits you.

"I thought I still had time..." his shoulders slump in defeat, "guess I'm wrong"

"What do you mean?" anger and sadness flood your words.

"You can't love me" the words cut through you, and you're sick.

Sick of your rusting wheels that only move when he tells you to. Because that force, the dominance, Joel Miller seems to carry over the rest of the people, doesn't cut as deep as it cuts through you.

It's almost done with a benevolent authority, like he knows of said power and doesn't want to abuse it.

So now he's ordering you to stop loving him, like this year has meant nothing. Nothing.

"Love, funny word" your words carry rage, "do you even know what that means?" you try to hold back the tears in vain, "you don't, yet you say them so freely, like they mean nothing to you" he makes a surprised face, and you savour the pain reflected on his face, alike of yours. "Yes, I heard you, Joel. Y-you made me the happiest girl on the planet, but now I realize you're so full of shit"

You turn around, trying not to see his face, because you know that the more you look at him, the more seconds you add and the harder it would be to erase the memories you'll have to burn.

"Did you ever love me, Joel?" it pains you to whisper out loud.

"I love you, sugar" his voice is horse, like something had cut through it. "That's why I'm doing this"

"Are you, Joel?" you sigh, "if you loved me, wouldn't you want me to stay?"

"This won't end well" it's his answer, trying to reason, "I don't want to hold you back"

Coward. Asshole. Idiot.

Your tone is icy like the storm outside, "but it's already ended"

He's about to speak but you cut him off.

You can only smile. "I've given you everything and you took it. I really thought you were giving me your everything, but I realize now, that I know what you are. You don't need to hide it" he looks at you like it is you who's hurted him the most, "you're hard to love, Joel. But I tried"

He'll regret it. You know and you want to: you want him to feel the empty days blur with one another, that he remembers late at night what you had and he ended, so when he feels alone, the ghost of your free love haunts him with the happy days and sweet taste of your lips. Just then, he'll understand what your year of loving really meant.

You leave his house empty, a knife twisted in your heart. He's the only one who's got the key, and you know it will be long until anyone else can break it open.

But it's okay: if being with Joel was heaven, you'll happily burn in the flames of what's left.

[felassan]

What's all this about Solas speaking in iambic pentameter? English isn't my first language so I never noticed anything odd about the way he talks, but your blog is the first time I've seen it mentioned by anyone

hello! ◕‿◕ Solas sometimes speaks in a specific pattern or rhythm. It sometimes gets described as or compared by people to iambic pentameter. (which is a type of rhythm common in traditional English poetry. Shakespeare used it in his sonnets and plays.) Though, I'm not sure that it's actually literally that or always that. The main point is that at those times, he's speaking particularly poetically, with a specific poetic rhythm in his speech. (Like where the stress on syllables is and the 'beats' in his speech.) Occasionally, the Inquisitor's dialogue line[s] in response to him are the same.

When Trick Weekes wrote Solas in DA:I, they wrote some of his key scenes to KD Lang's cover of the song Hallelujah on a loop. They talked about some of their process and the reasons for the use of this technique in terms of Solas' characterization in this DA:I-era blog post:

Trick Weekes: "When Solas talks about things that he saw in the Fade, things that speak to a distant past, I needed him to sound ever so slightly otherworldly and wistful – someone remembering a dream with a sense of both sadness and inevitability. If you follow [that link] and look at some of Solas’s lines, you may notice a familiar rhythm come out. It would have been forcing it to give lines the same rhyme scheme, but giving the words the meter captured some of that wistfulness and made Solas sound ever so slightly otherworldly. (In the rare cases the player got into the same rhythm, there was always an approval bump from Solas. For that brief period, it was like the player was thinking like he did.) I used this a few times over the game, and I love what it did to his voice. Also, Cori (who edited Solas) is exceedingly kind for putting up with my request that changes to those lines keep this surreptitious rhythm."

[source]

An example of when it happens in DA:I is:

"I've journeyed deep into the Fade // in ancient ruins and battlefields // to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash // to reenact the bloody past // in ancient wars both famous and forgotten. Every great war // has its heroes. // I'm just curious // what kind you'll be."

Compare this with the song's lyrics:

"I heard there was a secret chord // That David played, and it pleased the Lord // You don't really care for music, do ya? Well it goes like this: The fourth, the fifth // The minor fall, the major lift // The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah // Hallelujah"

An example from Trespasser is:

"I lay in dark and dreaming sleep [I heard there was a secret chord] while countless wars and ages passed [That David played, and it pleased the Lord] I woke still weak a year before I joined you. [You don't really care for music, do ya?]" etc.

Recent mentions of this are:

Q. Will Solas still occasionally or dramatically speak in iambic pentameter? A. “Massive kudos to Patrick, who always writes Solas so well. Again, Solas is a returning character. It’s the same Solas you know and love (or hate depending on who you are). The same writer. So I think the answer is yeah, it’s Solas.” – John Epler

[source: BioWare dev Discord Q&A on June 14th]

User: "you really went off with solas. but the iambic pentameter makes writing fanfic dialogue for him so treacherous..." Trick Weekes: "It doesn't always have to be in the cadence! Just when he's deeply feeling The Old Days! He's written in standard prose 99% of the time!"

[source]

I think he does it a bit in the gameplay reveal video [Veil ripping scene with Varric] too. hope this helps :>

[msg refs this post]

[For the developer Q&A from June 14th on Discord: Notes are here, re-watch link is here]

[gojo-enthusiast]

Suguru Geto — In Love With a Cult Leader

Masterlist <3

One of the longest ones I have written >_<

MDI- 18+, smut, sadness, degradation, fluff, sad sad sad, I’m sorryyyyy—

You saw the two young girls, bruised and scared, fearing what their fortune was about to become, Mimiko & Nanako the two twin girls. You just so happened to be cleaning the rooms of the building the girls were imprisoned in, scrapping up the change you were given to feed your mother and father, who beat you just as badly. You watched as the young man who stood taller then the men beside him killed each and every person in that village, the anger gleaming in his eyes, you hid behind the door, fearing you were next. You had given the twins food any chance you could, Mimiko sticking her hand out to yours, to hold it. She sensed your fear of what was happening. The tall man, known at Suguru Geto, stood over your shaking body, noticing how the small 5 year old child was holding your hand through the bars of the cell. “Get up.” He scolded, he could kill you in seconds, he sensed zero cursed energy from you, waving away, deciding to put an end to you. “No please.” Nanako cried. “She gave us food, and cleaned our cuts.” Mimiko cried, “Please spare her.” The two girls said in union. Suguru Geto staring down at you, “What could you possibly do to be worthy of life, you monkey.” He growled. “W-well, I can clean, and I can cook, and I-I’m very good with kids, I-I had brother’s and sisters before they got sick and passed.” You shook, trying to look the tall man in the eyes. “Please.” The girls pleaded with the young Jujutsu sorcerer. Geto waving his hand, smiling at the girls, a sense of relief washed over, “Let’s get you girls out of here, it’s dangerous here.” He smiled, helping you stand, and helping the girls stand as well. The young girls held onto your hand, and Suguru grasped onto your hand as he walked. This was the official start of your new life as a servant of a man who became wanted for genocide.

6 months later

Suguru finding a secluded home out in the rural lands, he found a home for the 4 of you to live, while he built his empire as a cult leader. The girls were thriving, learning about their cursed technique and the difference between curse users, jujutsu sorcerers, and monkeys also known as you.

“I don’t like calling Mama a monkey.” Nanako said, “A non curse user.” Geto corrected, wanting to please the child and her worries of her new mother, he knew you were not at fault for not being able to have any cursed technique, but he somehow always took his hate out on you, with the way he spoke about people of your kind.

As you resided in the home with the curse users, you begin to see curses you had never seen before. Having fear when they would taunt you, one particular night, one would tickle your feet at the edge of the bed, and run its tongue up and down your legs, beginning to rape you with its tongue. You cried out quietly, you were gentle, quiet, you knew not to bother the great Suguru Geto. “Why must you silently cry, rather than ask for my hand?” Geto grumbled, sucking the curse up, swallowing it whole. “T-thank you.” You cried quietly, your body shaking from the forced orgasm of a curse. You felt so vulnerable in the way you night robe was open, and you were disheveled. “Come with me.” Geto ordered, you stood up, wobbly legged, following the tall young man. You followed him into his bedroom, he opened the door for you, “You shall sleep in here from now on, so I can protect the weaker one of the home, I would hate for the one who cooks our dinners, to be gobbled up by a mere curse.”He chuckled, it was a taunt at you. But you were thankful he was willing to protect you despite your limitations.

2 year later

The two twin girls now the age of 7 and a half, they were growing tremendously, you and Suguru now being 19 years of age. “Mama” Mimiko mustered out, “Yes my beautiful girl?” You smiled, “Are you and Geto-sama in love? My friend has a mama and a daddy and they love each other.” She giggled. “I-“ You nearly choked. “Girl’s are you ready for your lessons?” Geto smiled, interrupting the conversation that had left you speechless. Suguru had never once even touched you, even though you had slept in his bed every night since 2 years prior. You were his loyal servant, cleaning up the blood of the people he would kill, scrubbing blood from his robes and kimono, with zero complaints. You were as innocent as a butterfly, yet you were given the duty that made you fear the man respectfully.

The day had come to an end, Geto spent the day with the girls, and meeting with other curse users, preaching his belief of a new world with only curse users. You felt your heart twinge, what if it came to a day, where he could not make an exception, and kill you along with the other non cursed users. As you looked at the clock, you knew he was going to be coming back home from his temple anytime soon. Drawing him a bath, with a fresh pair of night clothes, and a towel. You laid them out delicately for him to easily grab and use. “Good evening.” Geto smiled, appearing behind you quietly. You hadn’t noticed how long his hair had grown. “I am tired today, please bathe me.” He quietly said, removing his Kimono which looked like was free of blood today. “Of course, Geto-San.” You quietly muttered. “Suguru. Only you can call me that though. But only when we are alone.” Geto said, dipping his aching body into the bath.

“Ah, I sensed Satoru today, he must have been near. I wonder how he has to be doing?” Suguru questions to himself, letting the hot water sooth his aching muscles. “I am going to rinse your hair.” You said. “Mmhmm.” He hummed. You washed him, feeling your heart pound as you watched his hard cock throb under the water. “Theres no way he would actually make me touch it, would he?” You thought to yourself. “Ignore it, I will take care of it.” Suguru sighed, lightly jerking himself, while you washed his hair. “I-I can help, I-If y-you need.” You shyly said, you didn’t know where that came from, you rinsed the soap from Suguru’s hair, watching his mouth open lightly, his breath getting heavier, as he jerked himself under the water. “You want to?” Geto peered into your eyes, looking so innocent and yet so needy. You made it in your head, that your only means of living was to fulfill the needs of Suguru Geto. You nodded your head, getting on your knees, dipping your arm down in the bath, Geto grabbed your small delicate hands, guiding it to his large member, you wrapped your small hand around it, mimicking the movement he was doing, his breath hitched, “Fuck— yes, just like that.” He groaned, throwing his head back. This was probably the most vulnerable you had seen the long black haired man. You felt his groin twitch, releasing a milky liquid. His muscled relaxing and feeling his chest lightly heave up and down. “Please let me finish up in here alone. Thank you for assisting me.” He waved off, as you glanced at him one more time before walking out, you noticed his cheeks that had turned a bright red. “He’s embarrassed.” You thought to yourself. Finding it cute how the man blushed.

2 year later

Nothing happened between you and Suguru Geto, the most that you would do, is jerk him off and then leave when he was finished. You felt your body begin to grow hot for the man, being 21 now, and seeing the way he was changing, his arms being more defined, and his stature growing bigger, he stood over you like a tree, even the way his voice had grown more calloused, and almost a purr when he would speak to you, but when he spoke to anyone else, it was a kind and gentle sensai. One night as you lied in your bedroom that you did not share with Suguru, your hands wondered around your body, you dipped your fingers into your throbbing heat, this wasn’t the first, nor the second, probably more than the 20th time, you had fantasized about Suguru and how he would touch you. But they were simply only fantasies, there was no way he would ever make love to a monkey like you, at least that would be what you would tell yourself. “Y/n!” Suguru shouted from the halls of the home. You jerked up, your orgasm had already begin to subside, you hid your hands behind your back, as he barged into your room. “Why are you in here?” Geto says in an almost angry hiss. “I just wanted to lay down quietly for a little bit, I apologize Geto-San.” You bow your head. Geto smelled your arousal from across the room, “What were you doing?” He questioned, itching closer to you. “N-nothing, I was only lying down.” You stammer. You had brought your robe down before he came into the room, but your underwear was on the side of the bed. “Is that so?” He pushed an eyebrow up. “I smell your lust from here.” He whispered into your ear, flicking your robe open. “Ah!” You screech out, covering your mouth, not realizing the hand you used was the same one where your juices were dripping from. “Mmm I see you have already accomplished your goal.” He says with a smirk, grabbing your hand, and staring at you. “I- I am sorry Geto-San.” You nervously get out, “Suguru.” He whispers into your ear, then placing your hand closer to his face, flicking his tongue around your digits. “Geto-San!” You say, trying to pull your hand away. “Would you much rather I lick where you got these delicious juices from?” Suguru questions, eyeing you. “I could never ask for that!” You say, embarrassed, the redness in your cheeks were practically on fire. “Let us head to our bedroom.” He lifts you up bridal style. “I must confess my passion for you, I regretfully can no longer care to keep it hidden from you.” He says, latching his lips onto yours, you never knew how much you wanted this, and how much you craved for his attention, his affection, his acceptance, until this very moment.

Suguru placed you on the bed gently, grabbing a hair tie. “Dinner was splendid, but this my dear, this is my dessert.” Suguru groaned, opening your legs wide, spreading them. “Geto-“ You went to say, “Suguru, I do not want to hear you say Geto-San again. Am I clear?” He said with a dominate tone. “Yes, S-Suguru.” You said, biting your lip. “Good girl.” He said into your cunt, causing you to moan out loud. “I-I’m sorry.” You cover your mouth. “Did you just moan at my praise?” He smirked, “I-“ you said, not knowing what to even say. “Do I not praise you enough? I praise you for your food, cleaning, the way you take care of the girls. I must not praise you enough when it comes to you and I.” He says, spreading your folds, and beginning to lap his tongue over your already sensitive clit. “Su-Sugu.” You moan, you had moaned that pet name for years now, naturally coming out as he gave you this new found feeling. “Hmm? You taste exquisite.” Geto groaned into your cunt. “Oh yes.” You moaned, feeling your legs twitch. “S-so so so good.” You mumbled, moaning quietly. “The girls are gone, I want to hear you.” Geto said, licking faster, and inserting one of his thick fingers into you. “Ahh— slow slow.” You moaned, this sensation was new, you didn’t know how to feel, nor what to say. “Do you fantasize of me doing this to you?” Suguru questions, adding a second finger, stretching you slowly. “Yes yes yes.” You moan. “I think of you Suguru.” You whimper out. “I am but a lowly monkey, I am not worthy of your affection.” You moan out, you needed more, you needed him. You had fallen madly in love with the cult leader, then man who would call you monkey, or throw his robes at you to wash, the same man, who watched you scrub blood off the floor the first year of living with him and the girls.

“You will become my bride, you will carry my children, give me a child, give me your life.” Geto groaned, humping into the mattress. “Mmhmm, all yours.” You moaned. Suguru pulled himself on top of you, smashing his lips, passionately kissing you, licking all inside your mouth, sucking on your tongue. “Suck my tongue.” Suguru said, you did as you were told, as you did so, the man moaned into your mouth. You hadn’t even realize his robe was discarded now, and he was bare in front of you. You ran your hands all around his biceps, and abs. “Please Sugu, make love to me. I want to be yours til we depart from this world.” You cried out, tears sliding down your face.

“Y/n?” Geto quietly said, You began to cry, feeling his fingers rub your clit slowly. “Listen to me.” He said, looking into your eyes.

You nodded, feeling the pit of your stomach burn, it wanted to release so badly, but the pace he was going was far to slow, he knew what he was doing, he wanted you to listen to him, before he ruined your innocence.

“I will die one day, I will die trying to fulfill a dream of mine. When I pass, you will live a life making sure our children protect the weak, protect people like you. Please do not let my children follow in my footsteps, I do not want you nor the ones I love to die, live a long life my love.” He said, tears pulling out of his eyes. You had never realized how Suguru felt towards you, all the moments he forced you to do things you hated, you thought it was simply because he hated you, when in reality, it was him trying to push you away. But love had a way of being stronger in the end.

“I’m going to fill you my dear.” Suguru groaned, grabbing onto his length and lining himself up. “Hold onto me.” He said, you did as he said, you felt the tip push in, the stretch burning. “Ah-“ You hiccuped out, you were not prepared for such a night. “Suguru, I love you.” You cried into the crook of his neck, as his length pushed further into you. “My bride, I love you.” He said, pushing the rest of his inches into you, feeling something snap inside. “Give me many children.” He groaned, slowly thrusting so you could grow comfortable with his size. “S-so big.” You moaned and cried. It felt painfully good, you didn’t know how to describe this feeling, but it was a feeling you never wanted to forget.

The night consisted of the two of you going at it like to animals in heat, he filled your cunt with his seed, pushing it back in with his cock. “Let me fill you once more.” He groaned, he was obsessed with this feeling, he couldn’t believe how amazing you felt. “I love you, I love you.” You moaned. Your body was covered in his love marks, all around your neck, to your chest. You knew the girls would ask, but nothing mattered, you were Suguru’s and he was yours.

9 months later

“Mama— when is my brother’s going to be born!” Nanako giggled. “Soon.” Suguru patted her head, smiling down at the excited girls, who watched their adopted mother swollen with two twin boys. “I must admit, I will be putting another child in you when those come into the world, seeing you like this, make me want to ravish you.” Suguru whispered into your ear. Your cheeks burned, feeling the girls staring at you in confusion.

Suguru only dressed you in the finest Kimono’s, you were a queen in his eyes, building you and the girls a bigger home, “Raise my children in this home, for the rest of your days.” He had told you.

Years went on, and you were blessed to birth four of his children. You knew that one day soon, you would become a widowed mother, but you pushed the thought into the back of your head, as you stared at the beautiful children you both had created. “I declared war today.” Suguru said, rubbing your slowly growing belly, with his fifth child. “The girls told me.” You responded delicately. Suguru sometimes couldn’t believe how calm you were about the life you decided to live, the life where you never once tried to flee from.

“We have two four year olds, a three year old, two year old, and now I am having another child. I do not recall a time I was not filled with a child of yours.” You giggled, changing the topic. “We definitely have our hands full, make sure the girls help you dear.” Suguru kisses your belly. Tears well up in your eyes, you felt a burst of anger and sadness. “I wish you could have chosen the kids and I.” You cry. Suguru knew there was nothing he would say to ease the pain, so he rubbed your arm, and kissed you as you cried into his arms.

December 24th, 2017

It had been a decade now since Suguru had saved you and the twins, you watched the twin girls get dressed and complain to their adopted father how they wanted sushi when all of this was over.

“Girls, please be careful. I need my girls to come back safely.” You held onto them, kissing their foreheads. “Yes mama! Mama when we get back, can you make us homemade Mochi?” Mimiko squealed. “Yes my dear.” You smiled. You were 27 now, your husband the same age. “You ready girls?” Suguru smiled, he was in his finest Kimono. He had the gleam in his eyes, passion, he was going to win, he knew it. “When I arrive home, we will live in a new world my wife.” He smiled. You could only smile, tears trickled down your face. “I love you Suguru.” You smile, kissing his cheek. “I love you y/n.” He said quietly, watching your heart break. “Kiss the children goodbye Suguru.” You whispered. “Wait. Can we get a photo of all of us before you guys go, this is a special day after all.” You smiled, trying to push through the unspeakable event that was about to unfold. “Yes, let’s do that.” Suguru smiles. Setting up the camera, you 8 stood proudly close to each other, smiling. Before you knew it, they were gone, and you were at home with your children, staring at the photos that you took. One of them was Suguru turning to look at you smiling, his smile was the biggest in that photo, he looked like he had the whole world in the palm of his hands… it only pained you to see how happy and bright he was, but you knew in time, you would look back and smile at the graciousness and love from the criminal.

“Daddy isn’t coming home.” You cried, rubbing your belly.

He was not coming home.

“Y’n Geto?” The white haired, blue eyed man who was at your door said. “You must be Satoru Gojo. My husband has told me a lot about you.” You smile, opening the door for the Jujutsu Sorcerer. “Good things, I would hope.” He smiled, “Yes of course.” You laughed. Shutting the door. Your four kids went running to the white haired man, “GOOD MORNING!” They four bowed, the two year old near tripping. “Okay kids, come on and lets go to the play room, mama needs to speak with Gojo-Sensei. Can you say it was nice to meet you?” You say, “NICE TO MEET YOU!” They say in their child like manner, while they run off to their play room. “You have your hands full. I sense another on the way.” He says, “You’re like Suguru too, can you sense the cursed energy as well?” You question. Satoru nods.

“Please sit.” You point to the chair. “Please excuse the mess in the living room, my kids love to throw their toys everywhere. My husband is usually here to help me.” You nervously giggle, the lump in your throat forming. You knew your husband was dead, but no one outright told you, but you knew if Satoru Gojo came to your home, Suguru was dead.

“Suguru is gone.” Satoru finally speaks out. “I figured much.” You choke out, the tears trickling down your face. “I spoke with him before his passing.” Satoru began, clearing his throat, he looked just as hurt as you. After all, that was his best friend. “Suguru is a selfish man.” You muttered out, “Leaving me with 5 kids, to carry on his name, carry on his cursed energy, and to help me carry on in life without him. He was so passionate in what he believed, no one could have changed his mind, not even me.” You choked out, feeling your body ache at the sobs coming out of your mouth.

“He is selfish, yet so selfless. In his last moments, he asked me a favor.” Satoru bowed his head. “He asked me to take you and the children in, train the children to protect and learn the ways of Jujutsu. It’s funny isn’t it, the man who hated the life of a sorcerer, wants his children to follow in those foot steps?” Satoru chuckled. “That is Suguru.” You smiled, wiping your tears. “I’m not leaving my home, I want to stay here.” You said, “I respect that, once the kids reach 15 we will discuss further on their participation in coming into Jujutsu High.” Satoru smiled. You nodded your head. “Please is there anything I can do to ease your burden, I will take care of you. I’m sure Suguru handled your financial assets before his departure, but what can I do?” Satoru grabbed your hand, squeezing lightly. “Thank you.” You smiled. “I cannot manage the outside work, and sometimes I find it difficult to cook while watching the children. I would appreciate assistance.” You smiled. “I can do that.” He said with a nod.

Time passed, you had given birth to your fifth child, your first little girl. Suguru desperately craved for a little girl, and of course he was not here to see it.

“Gojo-Sensei was sealed…” Yuta Okkotsu tells you, “how?” You croak out. “Please sit.” Yuta says, trying to calm you down.

After the death of Suguru, Satoru had taken the burden of helping you, and introducing you to Yuta, who was essentially his right hand. You were not always very fond of Satoru due to his childish behavior, but your children loved it. It became charming. As you sit down, Yuta kneels in front of you, “A curse by the name Kenjaku has taken over Suguru Geto’s body. Gojo-Sensei did not properly dispose of the body, he became to soft in the end.” Yuta sighs. “M-My husband is—“ you cover your mouth. “He is not alive, but his body is, his body is being used by Kenjaku.” Yuta says again. You fall apart, all the memories washing over you, as Yuta shows you the footage of Shibuya and the man known as Kenjaku, who had taken over your husband body. “B-but my husband, there’s no way he’s alive?” You cry out. Yuta opened his mouth, then closed it. There was nothing he could say, except no. And he knew you didn’t want to hear that. “I have something else to tell you, which will be a lot.” Yuta looks at you, “Mimiko and Nanako were killed by the king of curses— Ryomen Sukuna. Unfortunately the only thing I was able to recover was their bracelets.” He said, handing you the bracelets that were speckled in their blood. “NO!” You cried out, your heart had shattered to a million pieces, your husband, your daughters, gone. They weren’t coming back. Now Satoru, the strongest of them all was sealed, you felt your heart ache, and your eyes flutter shut as everything turned black. You had fallen asleep, fainted at the shock of everything.

You woke up to the kids all eating dinner at the table, Yuta sensed your awakening. He ran over to you, saying— “I fed your newborn, luckily there was bottles in the fridge.” He smiled gently. He did not know how to talk to you, he only knew that you were broken, your life was destroyed, yet you had your 5 kids to care for, while you grieved your husband and two girls. You picked up the photo that was framed, the last photo you all took. The one where Suguru stared at you and smiled. “Yuta, please care for my kids. Take them away from here.” You weakly smiled. Yuta knew exactly what you meant, and he couldn’t stop you either. It was the end of the night, one of the drivers pull up to the house, and your kids are packed and ready to go. You kissed all your kids, and said you would see them soon. Yuta bowed down at you, “You are the strongest, tell your husband we will care for the children from here.” Yuta smiled, walking out the door, with the newborn in his arms.

This was your end, or maybe your beginning, you didn’t know, you just knew you missed your husband and girls, and nothing could ease your heart much longer. Picking up the cursed tool, you grabbed the photo, holding it in your hand, tearing pooling in your eyes, as you stuck the cursed tool into your heart. You felt your eyes close, then a moment later there you were— the field of grass which Suguru and you would lay out, it was just behind the house, Suguru was wearing a white Kimono, and you were in your silk one you had ended your life in. your husbands hair swaying in the wind, smiling. “I told you to not come so soon, you were supposed to stay with the kids.” he said with a head tilt. “I suppose Okkotsu took care of it. I’m glad the kid took them and not Satoru, Satoru is a fool after all.” He chuckles. You see your two daughters waving at you. “Mama! We missed you.” They smile, pulling you into a hug. You stood there as the girls smiled and hugged you. “We’re all back together again.” Nanako smiled. Your husband walked up to you, “My wife has had it hard hasn’t she?” He questions, grabbing your hand. “I am pleased to share my life again with you, I just wish it wasn’t so soon, but I suppose now we can spend our lives together in peace. Maybe we will even be worthy of being reincarnated and brought back together.” He smiles, pulling you into a hug.

“Sugu— where you go, I go. I never want to live a life that you’re not in it. Take me wherever you go.” You smiled and cried into the arms of the ghost, the angel, the man who was redeemed as innocent and forgiven for his crimes. The lords and Gods forgave the blood that he shed, and now you will spend the rest of your life, human and spirit, as Suguru Geto’s wife.

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #8, Kerubim.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO's site, by simply googling it.

A bit of context: this is an article, from the series called "Wheel of Destiny," which focuses on small character studies of various ecaflip characters from the World of Twelve. I won't be doing all of them, just the ones that interest me.

It is my decision to start with this in particular, because of the relatively small size of the article, to test out this... reading liveblogs thing. I hope it goes well, and isn't too boring.

I hate Eca so much it's unreal, just so you know.

To make it more obvious which parts are me, and which parts are the article, while you're skimming the post, I turned on my computer's night mode for making screenshots.

...My sincerest apologies to tumblr's dark mode users, though. I'm sure this is a nightmare for you.

And this is what I was talking about in the previous posts, where I said that, canonically, Kerubim's friendship with Bashi started before the Quest of Two Mornings in Episode 3, Strich Hunt.

Very sad to disappoint, but there does not actually seem to be a Croc Ness monster in the Dofus MMO.

Yet another confirmation of the temple being situated in Amakna. (Besides my own geographical estimations while watching the show, and it literally being there in the Dofus MMO.)

It's a long ass way between the temple, and the swamp, but it is realistically doable for two kids, especially if they have a carriage. (Which Kerubim, being the guy responsible for feeding Ecaflip, does have access too.)

"Five-Cat Monte" is a reference to "Three-Card Monte" which is a real thing.

Glad to know Bashi is also very normal and sane as a kid. Also, very glad that older kids, who give lessons, react to things like this by essentially going "Sure, go die I guess."

God, they are so fucking stupid. Anyway, they are talking about some real landmarks here, all of which are also around Amakna, and seem to be pretty accurate to the in-game geography.

...It feels nice to be right.

...I suppose that, despite its faults, the orphan temple actually gives a shit about its disciples not dying. Color me surprised? Eh, I'm mostly joking. It would be very weird if they didn't.

I will spoil things ahead for you: Ecaflip used magic to make Kerubim look like Atcham.

Bashi's reaction to Atcham being "AAAAH NOT THAT FUCKING CREEPY KID AGAIN 😨". The way he pretty much says, "a ghost?? NO. SOMETHING SCARIER. YOUR WEIRD FUCKING BROTHER."

It all implies., So much. It implies so much. I'm still not over it.

Pictured: my vision of how Bashi reacted to Atcham, when Kerubim (against his will, unwillingly, and deeply embarrassed) was forced to introduce them to one another.

I like to think that before they began to hate one another, Kerubim's relationship with Atcham was similar to what he had with Patafiks. Except instead of copying him, Atcham would, idk. Threaten to kill himself if he got any friend other than him? Threaten to kill his friends?

Something insane and jealousy-based like that.

I may be that guy who's very critical of Kerubim, and constantly going "Atcham's sad implied backstory this, Atcham's sad implied backstory that," but you don't get reactions like that by simply being extremely bullied.

You get reactions like that by being That Heavily Bullied Kid With 20 Mental Illnesses Who Attacks People With Sharp Objects.

Pictured: my rough theory of whatever the fuck happened between Kerubim and Atcham in the orphanage.

It is a funny image... that quickly wraps around back to being sad, once you think about little orphan Atcham, who people fucking hate for being a bingus, who has nobody except for his equally-orphaned brother (who doesn't look weird, can actually make friends, and leave him alone, if he wants to. Which he does.) and how at such a young age he got desperate enough to resort to what seems to be violence to protect himself.

Which got him absolutely no help. And also made people look down on him even further.

I think the funniest part of it all is that Atcham as an adult has:

1. The knowledge that hating Kerubim is literally not productive and a weird fucking coping mechanism.

Yet he keeps doing that.

2. A sort of moral compass that's all about protecting and respecting those in the same shit situation as him. (Even if they insult him. He hates that, but he's mature enough to uh.... just shave people against their will about it.)

While Kerubim is like. Still struggling with even saying that he doesn't even hate his brother. Somehow, he's the more emotionally constipated one.

So normal of them.

Anyway,

I think here we can see a bit of the internal growth Kerubim has had, from the time when he was a child, to adulthood.

Joris cannot picture Kerubim being ashamed, or disgusted, by Atcham, despite this article showing him doing exactly that.

It is the reason why I think one of the factors that contributed to Kerubim adopting, and keeping, Joris, was his guilt over whatever Atcham went through, despite how much he likes to say that he doesn't like Atcham.

Joris is different from other kids: small, weird, probably bald. And in any other situation, it's likely he'd develop a complex about it, except his dialogue in the movie specifically implies that Kerubim has put in conscious parenting effort into preventing exactly that.

While it's obvious that Kerubim loves Joris, there are many flaws in his parenting. So him putting a petabyte worth of effort and research into one single aspect of it is... very telling.

Now for a bit of a reach/headcanon: Who's to say that the reason Joris doesn't have many friends, is not Kerubim trying to isolate him from any potential source of shame or trauma? This part, as I've said, is purely speculation/headcanon — but it is an interesting thought.

And Atcham, who was there, and experienced shit like this from Kerubim, is still swayed by Joris's words.

What I think happened between them is that Kerubim, who yearns for societal approval, is afraid of being like Atcham, who is often ostracized and disliked by people for his looks. Besides this, I think Atcham, who was Going Through Horrors, was clingy.

For these reasons, he pushed Atcham away, and it is this betrayal, coupled with Kerubim's advantages in the form of not looking weird and being Ecaflip's favorite, that made Atcham fucking detest him.

What it all means is that Joris isn't necessarily wrong: Kerubim wouldn't hurt Atcham (at least, not unless it's self defense), and what he did was just... trying to save his own skin as kid.

Which isn't exactly malicious.

And I guess Atcham agrees with Joris on Kerubim's incapability of doing harm to him on purpose. Otherwise, he would never be convinced to change his mind.

There is probably a reason for why Kerubim would rather live in a forest, than go back to the temple looking like Atcham. And as I've said, I don't think it's a happy one.

Now think about Atcham doing this his whole life and get sad. Like I just did.

I think that, of all the things, it's most disgusting that whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham was happening under the watch of Ecaflip, and perhaps even because of him.

I wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate their hatred for each other for fun. Or because he wanted Kerubim all alone, to himself.

I also find it interesting, the way Ecaflip says "once more" here. Implies that it used to be a normal thing for him. I suppose my guesses of Kerubim being disliked by other kids due to Atcham may have some merit.

And god, it makes me so, so sad.

He cares enough to intervene when Kerubim is about to die, which goes against his own rules, but not when it's about his kids' life being fucking awful.

...Maybe Oropo was right.

Do we know if Ecaflip's emotions are even genuine? He is the narrator of this story, after all, and he could be lying. He puts Kerubim in danger many times. Many. Just for fun and his own amusement.

I will take Ecaflip's narration as a straight-forward one, — that he really is feeling these things, but it still reads as manipulation, even if he is doing it for "Kerubim's sake". He's not a good father and never will be one, and these are very cruel lessons.

I will be real, their relationship disgusts me to my heart <3 Amen.

And now we know why Kerubim is... like that. And why his parenting is so overbearingly sweet, controlling, and obsessed with making sure Joris knows he adores him and adores him back.

Perhaps, despite everything, Atcham was the luckier one for not having Ecaflip's "love" the way Kerubim did, but honestly, I feel both of them had it equally shitty.

A true "would you rather sit on an anthill or sit on a cactus" choice.

[whyse7vn]

DONE -

[ seokjin x reader ]

jin: 😘🥰😘😝😈

y/n: i just woke up can you give me a minute before you start being weird

jin: 😫

y/n: ew

jin: feeling very romantical rn

y/n: romantical?

jin: ur hot i could punch you

on the lips

with MY lips

y/n: you just have a way with words

jin: ikr 😍

y/n: it’s not a good way

jin: i’m choosing to ignore you

because i’m in a good mood rn

y/n: lucky me ig!

jin: the luckiest

y/n: what do you want

it’s 8 am

jin: rise and shine pretty

i saw ur insta post

y/n: ???

the one from two days ago?

jin: 2 days ago 3 days ago 1 hour ago it doesn’t matter

what matters is that you want me so bad

like so bad

i can tell

the way ur looking at me in that photo its telling me

“jin baby pls come here i need you rn 😩😫”

i can hear it

y/n: you got to lay off the crack im telling you

jin: CRACK????

ARE YOU INSANE????????/!:!

y/n: there is no logical way to explain what you’ve just said to me if you didn’t do some type of drug

jin: don’t speak to me

not in person not through text and

ESPECIALLY not through insta posts

y/n: :(

jin: don’t frown at me

y/n: why not :(

jin: you have no right to be sad in this situation

you literally accused me of doing drugs

y/n: you said my photo talked to you

i think that was a pretty fair accusation

jin: you literally should be so grateful rn i said i wanted to kiss you…

ON THE MOUTH AS WELL

and i said you were hot

ME kim seokjin said YOU were hot

PEOPLE BE SO UNGRATEFUL THESE DAYS OMG?

y/n: sorry

jin: i don’t belive you

y/n: cuz i was lying

jin: GO AWAY

y/n: i won’t

i miss you

jin: it’s too late to miss me

y/n: are you dying or something?

jin: what?

y/n: is the age isn’t it?

jin: excuse me?????

you sound like jimin rn and i’m telling you that’s a IMMEDIATE turn off

wait

you wouldn’t right

tell me you didn’t

…

you’ve been spending time with jimin

haven’t you..

y/n: he’s the bff wydm

jin: oh my god somebody shoot me

y/n: drama queen 🥱

jin: we are OVER

DONE I TELL YOU

DONE

D

O

N

E

y/n: i’m crying so many tears rn

jin: CRY HARDER

WE HAD ONE RULE IN THIS RELATIONSHIP

AND THAT RULE WAS STAY FAR FAR FAR FAR FAR FAR AWAY FROM PARK JIMIN

y/n: that is a ridiculous rule

i literally work with him?

jin: if you loved me you would of made it work

y/n: if you loved me you would be at home rn

why are you out so early?

cheating perhaps??

jin: you caught me!!!

it’s time i tell you the truth anyways…

y/n: you’ve been seeing tae behind my back haven’t you…

jin: now i know ur out of ur mind

you must be a heavy drug user

y/n: ig we both are…

jin: me and you are NOT the same

y/n: what’s that supposed to mean 😣?

jin: EXACTLY what i said

look at you

and look at me

y/n: i see no difference

we both are fucking tae?

what separates us seokjin?

lmk

jin: ARE YOU ILL?

I WOULD NEVER EVER IN MY LIFE PICK THAT THING

ITS ENOUGH IM FORCED TO STAND NEXT TO THAT FREAK OF A MAN

BUT FUCK HIM???

OMH MY GOD SHOOT ME NOW SHOOT ME NOWWWWWW

y/n: so it’s okay that i’m fucking him?

jin: like i said WE are done

IDC

do what you want

you betrayed me

i have no love left for you

y/n: good to know

jin: don’t tell me ur mad at me rn…

y/n: i’m not

jin: omg you so are

y/n: am not

jin: i love you

y/n: but we’re done?

jin: i take it back

i can’t breathe without you

y/n: ur too clingy for my liking

jin: i’ll crawl into your skin and live there

y/n: ew and ow

jin: love hurts

y/n: will you be in my skin when i make my weekly visits to tae?

jin: you are BLOCKED

…

THIS IS SO BAD PLS DONT HATE ME PLS THJS WAS A DRAFT OMGSHSHSH

[xx-slug-xx]

This is kind of late, but about your post regarding people in the proship community who exclusively ship ONLY "problematic" pairings: FWIW, in my experience these types of people have turned out to just be antis who are trying to ~ InFiLtRaTe ~ proship spaces (their sad attempts to screenshot things to either share with their puritanical little fascist anti friends, or gather "evidence" for callout posts) most of the time. I'd say around 90% of cases are this, based on what myself and many of my other friends have seen firsthand.

But for the record, it might be worth noting that there's some cases where this is completely genuine and it's entirely legitimate. I have a friend who really enjoys the big sister/little brother genre specifically (so, they don't really engage with big brother/little sister stuff) so all of their favorite ships just happen to be "incest ships" by virtue of that. They certainly didn't pick and choose exclusively incest ships on purpose, if that makes sense? And it follows that if a person is a very big fan of lolisho, then all of their ships have a high chance of being age gap ships or minor/minor ships, just as a side effect. I very much doubt that anyone who takes genuine enjoyment from their ships that happen to be "problematic" went out of their way to select problematic things on purpose.

You’ve made a pretty good point anon! And I’ve had a few people share some similar things too about that post!

I can’t really explain why, but I can usually tell when it’s a bait account made by an anti or not. And again, I can’t explain why, and its not always accurate. But the vibe is off putting in some strange way when it’s a clear bait account. But I do run accost the ones who aren’t bait, and the vibe is different. It feels too forced when antis do it. When it’s genuine, it’s more natural.

A few people explained that a good reason why there’s so many genuine blogs that are like this is due to it being something like a side blog where the user feels safe expressing their more “problematic” ships. Which is absolutely valid imo. Antis are vile and I’m not surprised that people are “secret proshippers”. But it honestly doesn’t solve the bigger problem at hand. I think more people should be publicly proship and comship so that we can all stand for our beliefs. Justice doesn’t come from sitting in silence. Revolution doesn’t come from hiding in the shadows (though, let’s be real here, fandom is not all that comparable to issues in the real world, but I hope you get my analogy regardless lol). I really think that there’s a good reason so many people are secretly proship, but at the same time, it doesn’t really solve much :/

Plus, like you said, a lot of it comes down to coincidence too! If people like something in fiction, then they have a right to express themselves. If someone is drawn more towards a certain type of pairing, then they still have that right! Doesn’t really matter if it “problematic” or not!

[starsrshiney]

Clear Card arc with Deku when?

Assuming that this is in response to my cardcaptor sakura/ MHA crossover idea. . .

Clear Card spoilers, from what I understand happened in the manga via the wiki anyway. Yes this is more anime based but the Clear Card anime stopped halfway through so all I have is the manga story line.

Actually I just checked the CCS wiki and its a good thing I did because my knowledge only went up to Exchange. I thought Clear Card ended with the time rewind. Also letting you know, my MHA knowledge is basically up to the Culture Festival arc and then it gets spotty because the show went more to the action hero route than the school shenanigans route and my interest kinda faded.

Basically what I'm saying is no hero war happened in this verse.

My idea was that the clear cards, released separately and later than the Sakura cards, start appearing some time after Izuku captures Dream. DreamCopy!Sakura senses that the clear cards have been released (or maybe Dreaming is the Clear Cards' messenger?) and teaches Izuku how to switch his key between its star magic form and its dream magic form in order to catch them.

The incantation to catch them would probably be a mix of the clow card's incantation 'return to the form you were meant to be, [clow card]/[name]' (which he'd been using, just swap clow with sakura) and the clear cards' incantation 'force without master, heed the call of the staff of dreams and become my power' as Izuku is not making the clear cards like Sakura was, just catching them. "Heed the call of the staff of dreams and return to the form you were meant to be, clear card/[name]" ?

Speaking of the word master though, another bit I had thought of for this verse is that Sakura never planned for Izuku to be a master of the cards like she was, just an approved user. When Izuku catches them all, he's not going to try and convert them under his power.

(Sakura and company had, via magic and mundane means, located the star she gets her magic from and determined its lifespan. The cards are not at risk of losing the magic they get from it even after she passed.)

Basically, the Clear Cards aren't their own arc, just an extra added into Izuku capturing the cards.

And, of course, Clear Card Shenanigans.

Action activating UA's test robots and going through the entire school. Gen Ed/ Management wondering how the hell the Hero class dealt with these as an exam, Support trying to shut them off.

Exchange causing quirk swaps.

Labyrinth/ Snooze causing the students mental pain because they already went through this with Maze/ Sleep.

I'm actually sad that Rewind got used as a base for Remind, because we lost the potential for MHA characters rewound to elementary age shenanigans. Or teachers to high school age. Or All Might to having his organs again.

But then again, Remind and Kurogiri. Yes I know that backstory I said my knowledge was spotty not nonexistent.

Repair is every teachers new favorite card.

Struggle also does harassing thing that Fight, Power, Arrow, and Shot did.

Transfer is made of teleportation shenanigans. Its like Move but strong enough to actually move people around.

[d8tl55c]

im having trouble assigning one metric like age, weight, vitals, emotional state, etc. to memory usage because it's such a computer-y concept- maybe a combination of several of those things?

when you're talking about memory... uh... it's not really...

it's weird- UM- heRE's HOw RAM WORKS:

.

in general* there's two ways to handle data:

slow to access, but i can store a lot of data basically forever, or super fast, but i can only store a little, temporarily.

RAM (Random Access Memory) is the second option. it's a physically different chip from the long-term-big-storage one, and it is designed to multitask many, many file accesses/calculations/other processes at once. video games, modeling/editing/animation software, and web browsers commonly eat up a lot of RAM (a LOT: check out Flash up there at the top easily munching 300 thousand K* for the simplest possible animation) *we are going to pretend it's that simple because trying to research this further made the later sections of RUSH-E start blasting in my head :) (further reading that looks correct probably about things that are and aren't the "active private working set" (column displayed by default in Task Manager -> Details and the animation))

(here's 3 windows of 18 tabs of OperaGX as an example)

so it's not really the runtime of the program ("im not sure if their memory usage is reliant on how long they've been existing..."), but what its function is, that foreshadows its required RAM.

"...or how. complex they were drawn." <- this one should work. since they're all separate programs, they each have to handle their own graphics, and would use a type of RAM to keep up their silky smooth framerates and procedural animations.

and there's the. THOUGHTS. SENTIENCE. that they all have, of course. i can only assume they use computer working memory (a bit more RAM) like humans use our working memory, and permanent save files stored elsewhere for long-term stuff, because there is no other reference for how a functioning person-program works.

that doesn't explain why orange's number is so different from RYGB... and even when a program doesn't display anything or have feelings the RAM usage shown in Task Manager changes a lot... but in IV it stays exactly the same throughout for every single program..... (i was about to be excited if trying to end TheSecondComing.exe spiked his metrics or something but nothing happens *sad nerd face*) .....so im pretty sure not much was intended on Alan's part by assigning any of these RAM usage values, except for cinematic reasons: giving TheSecondComing.exe much less than the StickFigure[Color].exes forces c!Alan to search for it, realize it has a weird name, and zoom in all dramatic on it for the Description reveal, all because it's further down the list. :P

.

but if i were forced to speculate anyway-

id guess that the StickFigure[Color].exes use more RAM because they come from a game. maybe they're carrying around the game scripts that are responsible for waiting for user inputs. TheSecondComing.exe was never designed to be controlled, so would lack user input listeners by default. why does RYGB have different individual RAM usages? heck if i know- the discrepancies are small enough i think it's just. normal fluctuations. since they're doing different stuff and are variations on the same program, they'd likely stay near each other in RAM requirements, but trade places with who's using the most constantly.

is that all? uhhhh well all i know about getting user input is it can get complicated. suppose it might be 13,516 K complicated.

the only other thing i thought of is TSC.exe could hide suspiciously high RAM usage by stealing from Flash's allocated space. but i dont know if that's a real thing, even for worms. -> if it is, the story goes that, like Minecraft performance can increase by allocating more RAM for it, Flash probably has a big chunk set aside for processing animation-related stuff. TSC.exe, related/attached to Flash, may have access to this chunk, using some of Flash's resources instead of clocking more usage for itself on the Task Manager. the remaining 3,012 K may therefore be impossible to hide or outsource, and would account for... idk, the minimum RAM required to maintain a sapient stick figure? <- again, fully riffing and playing pretend with my touys there though. NOT sure if any of that section is anything. but it would be neat \o/

.

(side note: i tried to look back and see if avast! describes TCO's memory usage, but that metric doesn't show up :T and i dont think there was time to check TDL's or anyone else's in III or V)

.

SO WHAT IS IT HUH?

aaaaaaaaauuuu

it's not clear what the differences mean. it likely does not mean anything at all canonically (cinematic reasons). but i can confidently say that the Memory value probably corresponds to an individual stick figure's current: physical state (stored position, limb arrangements, collisions), display data (color, frame generation, frame display), emotional state (neutral vs intense), mental state (how hard they are thinking), extra features (game data, other attachments to parent programs), independence (is or isn't using memory through another program), and probably other things simultaneously.

i went and collected those numbers

however... it seems this metric we were discussing wasn't related to file size after all, it was memory usage.

i do not know enough about memory to immediately recognize the implications of this information but still cool to know and weird and interesting that they're so different 👉👉 handing to you for safekeeping

OHHHHHHHH !!!!!! i didnt even see the memory tab i really thought it was their file weight lol. man i really wonder what i can do with it. seems like red is consuming too much memory LOL

im not sure if their memory usage is reliant on how long they've been existing or how. complex they were drawn. its interesting to think about. we keeping it fr

[stanurines1mp]

His Fault

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader (she/her)

type: pure angst

an: i know this isn't aot and on wattpad, its posted in my aot book but whatever. anyways, here's my first oneshot of Toru and uh, it's just pain, isn't it. have fun reading lmfao. im more focused on a Satoru fanfic rn tho. follow my Tumblr for more content tho. same user as here. any requests, let me know :)

warnings: manga spoilers for Gojo's past arc, death, mentions of blood, pure painful angst. pretty sure that's it but let me know if i missed any :)

~~~

Satoru knew it was his fault the first time he lost you. He had so many chances, so many opportunities to make you permanently his but not once did he take it.

Satoru remembered the day he met you. It was just a typical day for him. He didn't expect that day to be the day he met you. The day he met such a sweet angel.

That was another thing. Never did he expect to have fallen for someone like you.

Someone normal.

Because he, Satoru Gojo, the world's most powerful sorcerer (or at least he will be), fell in love with a normal schoolgirl.

Your father owned a cafe and on the evenings after school, you'd often visit him to assist him in anything he needed. But most of the time, you would take a table, the furthest one from everyone else, and begin doing your work.

You liked the surrounding of the cafe. There weren't too many people that it was hectic and packed, but there weren't too few people that it became sad for your father's business. It was just the perfect amount of customers.

You weren't really a people person but you do enjoy people watching. You found it quite interesting looking at the customers coming in and out of the shop.

And you certainly found them interesting.

On that one day, you were busy finishing up your homework.

Seated at the furthest table from everyone to avoid being a disturbance to the business, papers and books were sprawled out on the table, a cup of tea and a plate of Danish pastry accompanying you.

You heard the bell letting out a short ring, an indication that a new customer had arrived. Every time the bell sounded, your head would perk up from the pile of papers to see the figures arriving. That day, you saw two tall boys, probably around your age, coming in.

They wore top matching jackets, their pants the same color but of a different style. The boy with the messy white hair had slim tight pants while the boy with the dark hair had baggy style pants.

The white-haired boy wore a pair of sunglasses, covering your field of vision from seeing his eyes. The dark-haired boy had long hair, half of it tied up in a bun. His eyes were small, slightly overshadowed by his bangs.

Even from that view, you could tell they were both very handsome. They had lean, tall figures, slim and slender. Although, the white-haired boy was taller than the other one.

There was something rather intriguing about them. Like a magnetic force, causing you to almost get captured by their essence.

Going by your nature, you turned your head back to your work, trying to finish it as soon as you can. But going against your nature, you couldn't help but lose focus on your work, instead, you were hung up on the two figures.

"Let's get the cheesecake, some macarons- Oh! Strudels! Let's get peach, apple? Yeah, let's get the apple. Hmm, that chocolate roll looks good. We'll get that, too," the white-haired one excitedly pointed. "You?"

"I'll just take some of yours," he gently let out.

"Okay, then. Oh, strawberry shortcake! I love those. Let's get one," the boy giggled while clapping excitedly.

You could imagine the shocked look on your father's face when the man declined his desserts to be boxed as a to-go. The imagined sight of your father made you want to giggle. You had to suppress yourself from bursting into a fit of laughter as to not gain attention to yourself.

After paying, the boys made their way to find a table. You prayed and prayed that they would sit at a table a little further away from you.

But the universe was not on your side that day because they chose to sit at the table right next to yours. You tried ignoring their presence but God, what the fuck was up with them and why the fuck can't you focus on this stupid work?

"You sure you don't want anything else, Suguru?" The white-haired teen asked.

"Yeah, I'm still full," the other boy replied.

The white-haired boy had a voice more teasing and giggly compared to the dark-haired boy. Either way, you found yourself unable to continue your work.

To pair with your empty plate that once held a pastry, you emptied your cup by taking a long sip of your tea. You let out a sigh of frustration before standing up, the empty plate and cup in your hands.

As you stood up to walk towards the counter, you felt two pairs of eyes boring onto your figure, following your movements. You tried your best to ignore it, hoping it was only just your imagination. You contemplated whether or not to grab a little bit more food since your work was far from done.

"Honey, can you send these to those boys over there?" Your father asked, showing you a tray full of desserts.

"Alright," you nodded, putting down your empty plate in exchange for the tray.

God, oh God, why?

Nevertheless, you brought the tray, making your way to the table of teens. A smile was formed on your complexion for hospitality as you gracefully walked to the boys.

Upon your arrival, the white-haired teen excitedly perked up, a wide smile on his pale complexion. He excitedly clapped as you placed the plates in between the two boys. The light-haired boy had taken off his sunglasses, allowing you a view of his pair of eyes.

And oh Lord, you had never seen blue eyes as beautiful as his.

"I thought you were a customer," the dark-haired teen spoke. You assumed his name was Suguru based on before.

"Oh no, my father owns the shop," you kindly explained with a sweet tone.

"Lucky," the white-haired boy said.

After that day, you found your days being filled with their presence. For a whole week, day after day after day, they keep coming back. And each time, they'd take the table nearest to you.

Until finally, they built up their courage to ask you for your name and proper introductions were made.

Satoru was honestly surprised with himself at how he behaved in getting to know you. Normally, Satoru had no struggle when it came to charming girls. With his good looks and witty personality, it came easy to him.

But with you, he found himself shying away.

Especially when he learned the truth of his best friend.

At the point when Satoru knew Suguru's secret, the three of you had been friends for more than a year. You were part of their friend group too, now.

Since you were just a normal person, curses and the Jujutsu world were something of the unknown to you. At first, they weren't sure if they should tell you but even so, they would easily exorcise any curses that dared neared you.

When they finally told you the truth, it took quite some time for you to believe them. Because seriously, curses and magic? Sounded like a bullshit prank Satoru would pull.

But when you were truly convinced of it, things started to make more sense. And your friendship with them only grew stronger.

But alongside friendship, something else grew.

You found yourself looking forward to the day after school when you'd be at the cafe and soon, both Satoru and Suguru would walk in, taking their seats by your table.

You found yourself loving how Satoru would shower you with flirtatious compliments, often leaving you to be a blushing mess.

But you knew not to get too attached to a non-existent deeper meaning of his actions. Because you've seen the way girls act around him and vice versa.

Satoru was a player and though you have fantasized about being with him, you knew he didn't feel the same for you.

But Suguru was a different case.

He was always a gentleman, with his sweet voice and caring actions. It wasn't that Satoru was a bad guy, it was just that he never looked at you the same way you always looked at him.

Or so you thought.

Because ever since he stepped foot in your father's cafe, all Satoru could think about was getting to know you. He had no idea what it was but there was something about you that pulled his attention.

It wasn't just that he thought you were extremely beautiful, it was more than that. Because of that strange feeling, Satoru didn't immediately hit on you like he would with anyone else.

He wanted to actually get to know you. And when he did get to know you, Satoru was sure he was head over fucking heels in love with you.

And Satoru never wondered about his self-worth. But you always made him question himself.

Was he good enough of a man to be with you?

He finally realized that even if he wasn't good enough, he would do whatever he could to be the best for you. To be the man you deserved. He was ready to confess, to let you know the feelings he'd kept secret from you and Suguru.

But then Suguru's own secret became truth to him.

"Can I tell you something?" Suguru once asked Satoru in the middle of the night when the outside world had gone to sleep but he couldn't because his mind was kept awake with thoughts of you.

The same could be said for Satoru but Suguru held no knowledge of that.

"What's up?"

"I'm in love with Y/N," Suguru confessed to his best friend.

At that moment, Satoru experienced his first heartbreak.

His best friend was in love with the girl he loved.

And the worst thing was that Suguru was a much better man than Satoru ever could be.

Satoru loved his best friend but he sometimes found himself envious of Suguru. Suguru was kind and basically just fucking perfect.

Suguru was the blueprint of the man you deserved in life. He could give you the type of life you wanted. A family, white picket fence, loving home life.

Compared to Suguru, Gojo knew he was incomparable when it came to your love.

So for years, Satoru watched as his two best friends fell in love with each other.

That was the first time Satoru lost you.

When he took too long to realize that he was willing to be the best version of himself for you. It took him too long to realize that you were the girl of his dreams. It took him too long and now, he lost you.

When Suguru first told you the truth about his feelings, you weren't truly sure what you felt. Of course, you knew he was a good person and he would treat you well. And it wasn't that you didn't feel the same. It was just that you also felt the same for Satoru.

But again, you knew Satoru could never reciprocate.

So why would you waste someone as good as Suguru for a person who could never love you?

You and Suguru had so many great days, lasting years. You loved him just as he loved you. You both always tried your best not to exclude Satoru because he was still your best friend alongside Suguru.

Satoru tried his best to let go of his feelings for you. He always reminded himself that you were with Suguru.

Of course, Gojo would never do anything to ruin your relationship with Geto. Because he saw how happy you were with Geto.

You always wore a smile when you'd greet them both, a quick peck on the lips for Geto and a quick tight hug for Satoru.

But even though your greeting hugs were quick, they were warm, always leaving your scent lingering on his shirt.

And Satoru adored it. He adored you.

Satoru knew that that was his fault.

And he knew what happened next was also his fault.

It started when Geto and Gojo were assigned the confidential mission of protecting the Star-Plasma Vessel. It was work that needed to be done discreetly, not something that came as hard for Satoru and his best friend. Things were going so well and they managed to almost get the girl to the safety of Master Tengen's barrier.

But fate was not on their side that day.

The young girl died.

Her death took a heavy toll on both Satoru and Suguru. Your partner was the one accompanying the girl when the ostracized man of the Zenin clan shot her in the head. Suguru blamed himself for not being able to protect her when it was his responsibility.

They returned back home, searching for you and your comfort. You had no idea regarding the details but you knew it wasn't good. Because Satoru was silent the whole time, something completely out of his character.

You hoped that your consolement was good enough for them.

Unfortunately, your comfort only truly reached one of them.

After they graduated from their school, Satoru was assigned more missions compared to Geto since he was the man he meant to be; the world's most powerful sorcerer.

He hated that.

He hated being that.

He just wanted to be yours.

But one day, Suguru went to see you.

His face was not the one that you first saw on him the day of your first meeting.

It was different. Heartbroken. Traumatized.

When you asked what happened, he told you that a junior of his had died. The whole night, you let him stay within the confines of your arms. You made sure to let him know how much you loved him.

But since that day, there was something rather dark within his once kind eyes. You didn't know what it was but it scared you.

You talked to Satoru about it and even he noticed the slight changes in his best friend. But neither he nor you could pinpoint what it was.

And it tortured you to see the man you loved being so troubled and there was nothing you could do for him.

Satoru had just gotten back from a mission alone. He was exhausted and the news that greeted his arrival was not one he expected at all.

"You're fucking kidding," he scoffed, humor lacking in between his words.

"Unfortunately, it's true," Yaga disappointedly looked down. "One hundred and twelve non-sorcerors, dead. All massacred at the hands of Suguru Geto."

That was his second heartbreak.

Losing his best friend to the dark side.

Because he was too blinded by the responsibility of being the strongest, he couldn't help Suguru.

It was his fault.

Everything felt like they were his fault.

"We think he might be going after non-sorcerors," Yaga informed grimly.

No.

Satoru felt panic rushing throughout his entire being.

No, God, please, no.

Not non-sorcerors.

Because you were a non-sorceror.

And you were in Suguru's life.

No.

He would never. Right?

Satoru was almost sure that Geto would never hurt you.

Almost was the right word, indeed.

Because as Satoru ran into your house, your name leaving his lips in panicked screams, you were lying on the floor, tears bleeding out of your eyes. Satoru couldn't keep away the tears overflowing his eyes at the sight of you.

The love of his life was dying.

And it was his fault.

His fault because he couldn't save you from his best friend.

His fault because he couldn't save his best friend from the dark side.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

"No, no, no, no, Y/N, stay with me," he cried, carefully cradling you into his arms.

He didn't want to worsen your injuries, scared that he'd lose you straight away. You were crying, hating yourself for everything that happened.

The blood that seeped out of your body was staining Satoru's uniform but he didn't care.

How could he care if you were there on the verge of dying?

He was ready to teleport you to the school, have Shoko use her reversal technique on you but you stopped him.

"Don't," you hiccuped.

"What? Y/N, I'll get you safe," he shook his head but your hold on his arm tightened to gain his attention.

"Please don't. It's no use, Toru," you cried, nose sniffling from the tears and blood.

"I can save you. Shoko will cure you-"

"I don't want her to," you shook your head. "Let me die, Toru, please," you begged, blinking hard as tears fell.

You begged for him to let you die.

How could he ever agree to that?

Why would he ever agree to a life lacking your presence?

But he did.

Because you asked him.

You asked him because you were scared to live.

You asked him because in the moments before his arrival, the only thing clouding your mind was the darkness held within your partner's eyes as he ran a dagger through your stomach.

You knew Geto wouldn't stop, no matter what, to get what he wanted.

And he wanted to kill you.

You saw that.

He wanted to kill you.

And you were scared to live, always running, looking over your shoulder.

So you wanted to die.

And you knew it hurt, but you had to ask Satoru to do that.

"I'm sorry. It was my fault, I'm so sorry," Satoru cried, his large palm caressing your tired face.

"It's okay, Toru."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I should-"

"I love you," you whispered.

In your final moments, you had to let him know.

The secret you kept in your heart after all these years, you had to let it out.

Even as you loved Suguru, you never stopped loving Satoru.

And you wondered if maybe Suguru knew that.

You wondered if you deserved to die at his hands because you had your heart parted.

Either way, you had to tell Satoru.

"I've always loved you," you smiled weakly.

"What?"

"I know you don't feel the same, but I just had to let you know," you sadly let out, finding his hand in yours.

"I love you," he replied, crying before he pressed his lips against yours.

You kissed back immediately, finding home in the confines of his arms and lips.

"Thank you for coming into my life, Satoru," you whispered, your last words replaying in his head as he held you tightly in his arms while you let out your last breath.

That was the second time he lost you.

This time, permanently.

His third heartbreak.

If only he hadn't come into your life, you'd still be alive.

He was the one who wanted to try that cafe.

He was the one who wanted to sit next to you because he thought you were just the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

It was him.

And it was his fault for you knowing Suguru.

His fault.

Everything bad that ever happened, Satoru realized, had been his fault.

[redheadjustin]

STAR WARS: SAVING THE CHOSEN ONE

Please note I have messed with the timeline a bit. Pong Krell was executed in season 5 of Star wars: the clone wars. Please understand that any changes are so I better interact with the universe.

  The force watched in despair. The planet was devastated from the battle between the two force users. Rocks with marks from lightsabers layed scattered from being hurled as weapons to distract the opponent and create an opening. Finally, the blue lightsaber of the graying redhead struck across the helmet of the sith. The redhead man, once known as Obi-Wan Kenobi, was shocked yet relieved to see the burnt and scar face of his Former padawan. The sith that was on his knees struggling to breathe was sith lord Darth Vader or as he was known years ago, Anakin Skywalker Jedi knight, the hero with no fear, the hero of tomorrow, chosen one who was supposed to destroy the sith and bring balance to the force.

The force itself watched, saddened by the turn of events that occurred years ago that the force was powerless to stop. The force watched as Palpatine killed Kit Fisto and two other members of the Jedi consul. It watched as Mace Windu and Papatine dueled until the Jedi had the sith down for the count until Anakin came and chopped Mace’s hand off thus allowing the sith to kill the Jedi. The force watched as Anakin was forced to join the sith to save his wife. It watches as the sith issued order sixty six and began the Jedi purge.

The force watched as the chosen one lost the duel with his former master. And it watched as Anakin Skywalker lost his wife and his unborn child. It watched as Padme Amadalia died of a broken heart after she gave birth to the twins Luke and Leah Skywalkwer. It watched as the twins were separated and the remaining Jedi went into hiding. But, the force always focused on the former chosen one. Yes, Qui-Gon Jinn had been right all those years ago. And the force was saddened by how far Anakin had fallen. The force could have intervened at any time it wanted to but it held out hope that Anakin would turn back to the light. But, those hopes never came to fruition.

The force watched with regret as Obi-Wan walked to his former padawan and brother. The blue blade of the lightsaber that Anakin knew so well raised above him and the fallen Jedi knew it was the end. He looked deep into Obi-Wan’s eyes, this caught the old Jedi off guard. The former Jedi had a sad smile on his burnt lips. “I’m sorry Obi-Wan. I’m sorry for everything. Go ahead, it’s okay master. I’ll see Padme again.” as he spoke the sith’s eyes reverted back to their blue color. The red haired Jedi smiled back just as sadly tears forming in his aged eyes. “You’re forgiven my padawan.” The emotion in Obi-Wan’s voice was thick as he began to bring the saber down.

The force decided enough was enough and froze time around the galaxy. The blue blade froze as did everything else. The force knew Anakin was the only one who COULD end Palpitine’s rineg of terror and bring balance. But, it was too late. The second the force unfroze time the blade would go down on Anakin’s neck, killing him. The force knew that even if it could intervene here it wouldn’t matter. Anakin was more machine than man now and would be no match to Darth Sidious. The force knew the only option was to change history to prevent the fall of the republic. But, then the question was how to keep Anakin from falling. The force pondered this until it recalled another of its favorites. A young human boy that was a Jedi at the time. He was a Padawan without a master at the time. Ah yes, the force recalled young sixteen year old Justin Bush. a very talented Jedi but he fell as well. Now he wasn’t known as Justin Bush but rather as the first brother. The more the force thought of it it made sense. Rewind time and send a message to Yoda to assign Justin as Anakin’s first padawan left the Jedi order thus perhaps stopping Anakin’s fall to the darkside. The force smiled as it watched as time started to rewind. This could save the galaxy and give happiness to two who deserved it the most.

21 BBY (season 5 of Star wars the clone wars) Justin POV

I sighed as I stared into the mirror of the fresher in my room that was in the apartment I share with my Master, Pong Krell. I did not like what I saw in the mirror. Not one bit. Bruises, marks, cuts and scars were what met my brown eyes. All of which were inflicted by my “master”. My skin was more scared than what it should be for a fourteen year old that hasn't seen a day of this war. It was the same thing since I was assigned to Master Krell when I was thirteen. A year ago. A year of abuse and harsh training. Master Krell was one of the prominent generals in the clone wars yet, he never took me into battle. He always cited my autism. But I knew that was a bunch of bantha shit. He just didn’t want to risk anyone finding out about my abuse. I used to wear sleeveless robes that showed my toned, freckled arms. But now I wear sleeves to hide the cuts and marks. I hardly talked to any of my friends anymore. Well, except Cal. Cal is like a little brother and has yet to find a master despite him being the best of his group.

I eat alone. I train alone. I study alone. I am alone. My Master has isolated me from the rest of the Jedi order. I feel an anger bubble up in my very being as I can’t take my eyes off of my body. The only part that remains undamaged is my face. Well, on the outside. But, no one can deny how my eyes are more heavy, having lost their shine long ago. I wanted to punch the mirror that showed me what I’d become. A shell of a padawan who was too scared to reveal his abuse to the Jedi counsel. I was glad my “master” had gone on a mission with the five hundred and first. It gave me some time to heal but not a lot.

The entire temple was somber. It was only a month after Asoka Tanno left the order. And I couldn’t exactly blame her. The Jedi bent to the pressure of the senate and expelled Asoka. It turned out that Barris Offree was the one who blew the hanger up. I didn’t know either of them well but they were always nice to me. Barris wasn’t the only one who had lost faith in the Jedi. I was starting too and I knew it must have been the same for Anakin Skywalker. I knew he was of course. He was the hero with no fear and the chosen one. I knew he was accepted into the order at nine. I also knew that he blamed the counsel for the death of his mother. And I also knew he blamed the counsel for bowing to the senate. And to be honest? I don’t blame him.

I was pulled out of my musing by a knock at the apartment door. It must have been the droid with the mail. I didn’t bother to put my tunic on as it was a droid and was programmed to not report anything we didn’t want it too. As I approached the door I didn’t notice the force signature on the other side of the door. I really wish I had some damn caf. I opened the door expecting to see the mail droid but instead I saw Master Obi-wan Kenobi. The fellow redhead’s eyes widened slightly before going back to normal.

“Good morning Padawan Bush, I was here to inform you the Jedi council wished to speak with you, but it appears that a trip to the healers is in order afterwards.” The famed negotiator of the Jedi order said taking in every mark, burse, cut and scar on my body. My face flushed with embarrassment as I looked down while summoning my tunic from my room with the force. “Master Kenobi, I wasn’t expecting you this morning.” The amused smirk that appeared on the council member’s face didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I can see that. Now, you can do your tunic on the way to the council’s chamber. There's an urgent matter we must discuss with you.” And with that the redhead started to walk leaving me to stumble after him. As I walked I did my tunic tight as Master Kenobi had seen my abuse and I would already be forced into a trip to the healers. I didn’t need to expose my abuse. “Master” Krell would kill me. And no, I don’t mean that figuratively. As we walked towards the tower that housed the Jedi council’s chamber I didn’t notice Master Obi-Wan communicating through his bond with the rest of the Council. The ride in the turbolift was calm if not slow. I felt waves of calm dousing the fire of my nerves.

I had always been told that my emotions in the force were like an explosion. That I had an aura about me that made people want to protect me and soothe me when I’m in distress. The turbolift doors open revealing a long hall to a single door. I remember being down this hall when I was four, when I was first brought to the temple after my parents died. I remembered being carried in a padawan's arms as I tried to stop my sobs. I remember him rubbing circles on my back. I remember the words of comfort he whispered in my ear. I remember him wiping the blood from the cut in the middle of my eyebrow. I remember so much of him but I don’t remember his name.

I was brought to the present by Master Obi-Wan’s voice. “Padawan, Wait out here while I inform the Council of your arrival.” I nodded as he walked into the Council chamber. The second the doors slid closed I felt a feeling of dread fill me. something was wrong. I just knew it. Something had changed but I Didn’t know what. I also knew Master Kenobi would most likely mention my injuries and I knew that I couldn’t try to lie. I wanted to. But, the force told me to do so would be stupid. I played with my padawan braid as I waited for the doors to the Jedi council to open. Sometimes I wish I had been sent to the service corps. At least there I would have never incurred the abuse I had. The doors to the chamber opened.  It felt as though the Force was making me walk into the chamber but I did so all the same.

As I walked in I couldn’t help but notice that only half the council was prescient. Oppo Rancisis, Yoda, Adi Gallia, Eeth Koth, Mace Windu, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Kit Fisto were the ones present. I could feel each council member’s eyes on me, as if staring into my soul. Each Member’s eyes were filled with different emotions. Sadness, Pity, understanding, distrust and many others. But, I kept what little calm I could muster as I prepared to answer the council’s questions.

“Young one, Good to see you, it is.” Master Yoda greeted me with a smile and his ears poking upwards. Master Yoda had always been one of my favorite Jedi masters around the temple as he and I had a special bond. I was the only autistic Jedi in the order and had a lot of issues with conitrateing and being able to keep my emotions under wrapps.  Yoda had taken me under his wing to avoid any issues as I grew older. I sometimes think he would have taken me as his padawan had the war not happened.

“It’s nice to see you as well Master Yoda.” I said with a smile and a bow of respect. It felt relaxed when Master Yoda spoke to me, as though he knew my nerves and was trying to keep me calm. Unfortunately, someone had to shatter this. “Padawan, we don’t have time for the pleasantries. We have received troubling reports about your master and we have questions.” Master Windu said with contempt in his voice. He always disliked me. It always bothered me but I kept my calm.

“What Master Windu means,” Master Obi-Wan said with a slight glare at Master Windu. “Is that some disturbing events have occurred that involved your Master. And as his Padawan we have some questions for you.” Ah, Master Obi-Wan, ever the diplomat but the way they phrased it only increased the pit in my stomach. “Masters, may I ask what events have occurred? And how Is my Master involved?” I felt the feeling in my stomach grow as the council shared a look. “Padawan, I’m sorry to inform you but your Master was killed in a possible mutiny and-” I don’t hear the rest of Master Kenobi’s sentence after the first part. I was shocked. Master Krell was dead? He was Killed by a clone? He Couldn’t hurt me anymore? Did he hurt the Clones like he did me? It was a lot. And I couldn’t focus, I could feel myself start to get overwhelmed. I could hear someone calling my name but it felt as though they were in a forcefield. I barely saw someone stand in front of me. I couldn’t process all the information that had just been thrown at me. I could feel My panic spiral until Someone placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Justin, You’re okay. You need to match my breathing.” Master Kenobi told me in a calm voice. It took me a bit but I did manage to calm down. “I take It you didn’t know of your Master’s plan to abuse the clones?” Master Obi-Wan asked me softly and I could Only nod shyly at the question. “Did your master abuse you as well?” Was his follow up. I nodded again as my voice kept failing me. He hovered his hand around my tunic as if asking for permission to remove my tunic. I tensed but I gave him a nod. As Master Kenobi undid my tunic I heard gasps from the rest of the council as they saw the marks, bruises and scars on my torso. I felt ashamed and looked at the floor. I felt the looks bare into me and I felt embarrassed. I wanted to disappear and get away from the pity. I heard Yoda walk closer to me as I heard his walking stick. “Your fault, it was not. Abuse you, your master did. Obi-Wan, take him to the healing halls, you will. Wait for his new master with him, you will.” Yoda said softly but with an authoritative tone. I saw Obi-Wan nod and he warped my tunic around me to cover my abuse.

I layed on the bed in the healing halls as still as I could per the healer’s orders as I described my abuse to Obi-Wan for an official report for the chancellor to read. I was in a private room as all of the patent rooms were. I felt stuipd describing every injury to Obi-Wan. Despite Obi-Wan’s reassurances I felt like I let Krell abuse me. I was describing the burns on my shoulder when the door to my room slid open. “Ah Anakin. I’m glad you came to meet your new padawan.” Obi-Wan said and I could practically hear the knowing smirk in the redhead’s voice. I looked up from my lap to see my new master. I looked up to see Anakin Skywalker. I saw the frustrated look on his face turn into a look of sympathy.

“Hello there young one. It seems you've been through a lot. But, I’ll help you. I promise as your master I’ll protect you.” And I don’t know if it was because he was the hero with no fear or if it was because he was the chosen one, but I believed him and felt safe for the first time in a year. And I missed that feeling. But, I felt the force telling me it would all be okay.  

[tennessoui]

18 obikin!! Amnesia fics are super fun 🍆

18. One of them wakes up with amnesia (Option A because two people sent in this prompt number and I liked both ideas I saw for it enough to not want to pick) this involves an Obi-Wan that got deaged as well as lost his memories so he's Phantom Menace Obi-Wan. no i will not be explaining. hand wavey drabble fic writing.

--

The man has not stopped staring, but something in his intense gaze makes Obi-Wan feel safe. Almost. Well. On edge, yes, but. Protected. He has the strange feeling that he’d rather be under this man’s stare than anywhere else in the entire galaxy.

But he knows he’s never seen this man before in his life, the same way that he knows he’s twenty-five and that Qui-Gon Jinn is his Master, that he’s a Jedi knight-in-training, that he hates teas with mint leaves in them, that he’ll never say no to a drink with Quinlan, that--well.

He supposes none of that stuff could be true anymore. Vokra Che, who’s a grown and certified healer master now, had told him what had happened. An older version of himself had touched something he wasn’t supposed to. The closest translation they could find to the runes on the object was that it would transform the user back to their most balanced state. Obi-Wan’s had, apparently, been at the age of twenty-five. He hadn’t recognized the name Anakin Skywalker. He had never been to Naboo.

He throws the rest of his drink back and waves to the bartender to pour him another. He’d gone straight here from the Halls of Healing. He’d had a shadow the entire way, but the man has yet to try to talk to him at all. It’s infuriating.

His Padawan braid swings into his field of vision for a second. He tosses it over his shoulder. He’d been told. Qui-Gon had died. Obi-Wan wants to not think about it at all.

There’s a brush of a Force presence that’s both familiar and completely foreign next to him. The man has finally moved to his side. Obi-Wan’s jaw ticks at his continued reticence, the way he’s observing him but not talking to him. It just simply won’t do, but Obi-Wan isn’t feeling his kindest. He doesn’t want whatever this man is offering him with his silent, dour stares and his suffocating Force signature that keeps trying to tangle itself with Obi-Wan’s own. It’s rude is what it is.

He waves down the bartender and orders a drink for the man. “If you got mint, put it in,” he tells the woman who raises an eyebrow but shrugs, one pair of her arms busy with the drink. When she gives it to him he slides it to the man next to him without even looking at him.

“What--” the man asks. “I don’t--”

“You do tonight,” Obi-Wan says bracingly, throwing back half of his own drink. “We’ve both just lost our Masters, haven’t we?”

The man beside him flinches as if Obi-Wan had skewered him with his lightsaber.

“You are him, aren’t you?” Obi-Wan lolls his head to the side to look at the man threw half-closed eyes. “My padawan.”

“Anakin,” the man says so quietly it’s almost lost to the noise of the bar. “I’m Anakin Skywalker, yeah.”

Obi-Wan takes a drink reflexively, humming in disbelief. “You don’t look like it,” he says consideringly. At Anakin’s confused look, he elaborates. “You don’t look like you could have ever been a Padawan.”

The man pulls himself up, face darkening at the perceived slight. It’s almost too easy to rile him up, but now that he has, Obi-Wan finds he has no interest in fighting this man. Quite the opposite, really. That’s...something. He can’t tell if that emotion comes from him now or the older version of him.

Either way, Obi-Wan has no desire to stand in the way of whatever storm this Anakin is building up in his head, so he turns to face him completely and pushes both hands into his blond hair, raking down the scalp gently before collecting the strands into a poor imitation of the Padawan ponytail. “That’s better, I suppose. The hair threw me off.” He lets go slowly, making sure to tug at one of the strands at the last second.

Anakin has a very strange look on his face, but he’s definitely not angry anymore. He’s even shielding much more tightly now. Obi-Wan smirks into his glass as he takes a sip. He definitely remembers that trick.

“Do you know who cut it?” he asks, catching sight of the end of his braid again. The drinks are going to his head much more quickly than he had intended. Must be all the trauma his body has gone through in the past few days. “My braid.”

“I.” Anakin stutters, caught off guard. “You did.”

Obi-Wan feels like laughing but also a bit like crying. There’s a terrifying emotion rearing its head in his chest. It threatens to swallow him whole. “Well, I suppose I never liked to stand on ceremony.”

“You cut your braid in the fresher and then called me in and braided mine,” Anakin says distantly, as if caught up in the memory. “You wouldn’t let me hold it. I thought you were so mean. But I understood at my Knighting Ceremony. It was a part of me in my hand, a...starmap of all the places I’d been and the things I’d learned during my training. And there was only one person I wanted to give it to in the whole galaxy.”

“Did you?” He asks, taking a sip to hide how important the question is, how devastating the answer could be.

“Well. Yeah. But I guess I don’t know if you kept it,” Anakin cuts his eyes away from Obi-Wan’s and runs his fingers up the long stem of his drink.

Obi-Wan chokes on a laugh. “He definitely did.”

The other man’s face settles into a frown. “You don’t know that. You’re not him.”

“I’m enough of him. I’ve got--some feelings. In my head. Impressions.”

“Of me?”

“Of how he felt about you.”

Anakin’s eyes widen and then narrow with a sudden intensity that makes Obi-Wan want to shiver. It’s like being in the eye of a storm. His hold on the delicate glass in his hand becomes dangerously tight as he leans forward into Obi-Wan’s space, as if he can’t get close enough to him.

“What do you feel when you look at me?” he asks almost breathlessly. Obi-Wan blinks, trying to figure out if he’s being seduced or not. It’s sort of working. It’s all that focus, directly on him. Obi-Wan wouldn’t mind if that’s how the night ended. But sleeping with his former padawan who he can’t remember right now doesn’t seem like the best decision he could make.

But Anakin had liked it when Obi-Wan tugged at his hair. He’d arched closer to him. And now, the distance between them has been eaten away until they’re almost pressed chest to shoulder.

“Safe,” he decides to say, even though the word feels too small. “Sad,” which is mostly true but also an oversimplification. It’s a sort of nostalgia mixed with sadness, mixed with acceptance and resignation. “Warm,” because even after being denied entry to Obi-Wan’s mind, Anakin’s force presence has curled around Obi-Wan’s like some sort of krayt dragon, content to wait and guard and treasure. He leans forward, just until his mouth brushes against the skin of Anakin’s ear. “Coveted.”

Anakin definitely shifts at that, and when Obi-Wan pulls back enough to see his face, his pupils are blown wide.

Swallowing a grin, Obi-Wan swallows the rest of his drink in one go. “Drink up,” he tells Anakin in his most demanding tone, reaching into his pockets to pull out his older self’s credits to settle the tab. “I want to go.”

Anakin obeys immediately, making a face at the taste.

They’re out in the street within a few minutes, Anakin smacking his lips as if still trying to rid himself of the flavor. “I just don’t know why you had to order me that,” he complains, falling into step on Obi-Wan’s right.

Obi-Wan pauses and leans against the very unsanitary wall of the building, spreading his legs wide enough so that Anakin can come in between them. The man doesn’t seem to notice anything different, just steps a bit closer as a crowd of loud party-goers makes their way past them.

“I wanted to see if I liked mint,” Obi-Wan shrugs, raising his hand to rest on the skin of Anakin’s neck. He can feel the way his pulse is beating incredibly fast.

“Why would my drink help you with--”

Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. He commends his older self for being able to teach this idiot anything, even though he seems to have skipped over important lessons like Recognizing When You’re Being Flirted With.

Before Anakin can finish the thought, Obi-Wan twists his other hand in Anakin’s robes and pulls him forward until their lips are a hair’s breadth apart. “May I kiss you?” he asks because it’s only polite to.

Anakin’s eyes widen and then fall shut as he gives a little nod, finally stepping forward until their bodies are pressed completely together.

At least someone, although he doubts it was the older Obi-Wan, taught Anakin how to kiss. Obi-Wan’s toes curl in his boots as Anakin takes control of the action, moving his hands so one’s pressing against the wall behind them and one’s running up his scalp. Obi-Wan takes his time licking into Anakin’s mouth, allowing Anakin to explore him in return. One of them moans, which seems like as good a time as any to break the kiss.

“Well?” Anakin pants, diving in to place a short kiss onto Obi-Wan’s lips. “What do you think?”

The short answer is that Obi-Wan isn’t. He noses back towards Anakin’s mouth hopefully, sliding his hand down from his neck to rest on his hip.

“About mint,” Anakin elaborates when Obi-Wan doesn’t respond immediately.

“Inconclusive. Need more data,” Obi-Wan tries to kiss him but Anakin’s smiling too hard.

“Then next time you can get the awful drink, and you can get me the Alderaan Sunset,” Anakin is complaining, but he’s laughing too and that’s nice. Obi-Wan thinks that making Anakin Skywalker laugh is one of the best feelings in the galaxy, and he thinks his older self would agree, if the warmth sparking up in his very soul means anything at all.

[samissosexyyy]

Tumblr thought it would be hilarious to delete all my work and not let me answer requests :').

YES I SHALL WRITE THE PLATONIC ANGRY PARENTS-

And thank you-I woke up and was talking to my friend in the morning and my brain just: jojo villain yandere dads. Mudad mudad mudad mudad anger.

Anyways, here they are- Do these even count as headcanons???? I dunno-

Dio, Part 1

Vampire form of course.

First thing first, We all know he'd be a great dad. Protective already, But make him a yandere platonic father? Oh boy, Trust me, You'd be spoiled and treated like royalty.

Now, I'm gonna say in this scenario you were on of his victims child. I'll say you'll be around 5 to eight.

Somehow you managed to catch his eye, Is it because your parent was just as bad as his? You reminded him of his mother? Or maybe you resemble him, and have three moles on your ear. Or, perhaps, A younger joestar? Either way, You somehow had him feeling like a father, and, according to one of my friends, Araki had said DIO would treat his children like they were royalty, And they would be so spoiled.

So, Mudad would end up taking you in, kidnapping, whichever honestly. He'd be holding you like a loving pet owner would, if you got scared, he'd probably be confused. Honestly he'd have you turned into a vampire quickly, as he knew he wouldn't be able to have children as a Vampire.

Truthfully, I think you'd end up never noticing how he'd occasionally pull you closer, or how he'd glare at anyone your age or older going near you. Or how he'd give you some strict rules, Like no dating anyone. E v e r. And why would you ever want to hurt your papa like that?! You wouldn't want to do that, right?! Of course you wouldn't! Dio knew you'd never betray him like that!!

Truth be told, he'd guilt you if you tried to go against his words. But punishments? No no, He'd never actually purposefully hurt you, Unlike his love interest, he'd NEVER want to cause you pain ever. He'd hate himself and wouldn't forgive himself for years. Centuries. Infact, he'd beg for your forgiveness.

The Pillarmen

And satannnaaaaa

First of all, You aren't a pillarchild. You'd most likely be some kind of god, vampire, or a young hamon learner. Or even related to the Joestars or Ceasar.

So, Let's say you're immortal who can walk in the sun. We all know you'd be the joestar side, Right? So, That means you'd end up hating or feeling pity for the pillarmen. First, You'd probably end up trying to make Santana hally when he awakens. Unlike with Joseph, He'd probably know not to attempt to attack you. Let's say you have symbols like Dio Over heaven, We all know how that would work.

You'd end up as a being worshipped by them, probably kidnapped after they destroy the Joestars.

Let's say they defeated Joseph and the others, and you were still a deity, You'd most likely be weaker then them in this scenario. They'd probably treat you like a kitten at first, like a baby before they all felt a connection. As if you were a child of their own, so they'd give you rules. And we all know how rules go with yanderes.

Let's say uh- you fell for a mortal.

"No. No."

[Crush name has fallen from a high place.]

"DADS WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUU-"

"NO CUSSING IN THIS CHRISTIAN MINECRAFT SERVER!"

or something like that :')

Honestly, You'd have bird dad, and a bunch of other dads. Santana would honestly be like the cool big brother honestly. You'd probably want horns too so-

They would totally buy you halloween horns to put on your head so you'd be happy baby

Now, Hamon user? They'd probably find you like a cute animal at first, probably going easy on you like it was a game of tag. Soon, they'd realize how weak and fragile you are, After all, You are just starting hamon. They'd probably kidnap you to spite Joseph and his side at first, before... Well, You didn't expect to become a vampire and treated like royalty when all you've been treated like is uh... Considering Lisalisa is your coach, I'd say you'd be happy if it was someone else doing this for you.

Josephs sibling? WOAH Joseph, When did you get a cute sibling? Pfft, Not your sibling anymore, They just adopted your ex sibling nerd.

But, All jokes aside, They'd probably be surprised that you were more mature then your brother, and...you sorta resemble a certain Coach... Oh, Humans all look the same, haha.

They'd probably kidnap you infront of Joseph just to make him feel guilt and rage, After all, Why not get their prized treasure and make Joseph angry? They'd give you more rules, until Joseph was gone, of course.

And, sadly, Not even you crying would stop them from making you into a vampire infront of your big brother, breaking both of your hearts.

Don't worry you got ice cream later smh.

Ceasars sibling? Mini pancake? Haha, They'd kidnap you as soon as they felt parent like tendencies. No denying them, infact, they'd make sure you saw ceasar get defeated by the ro ck. But don't worry! You have new parents and a brother-! Haha, Poor you.

Part 3 DIO AKA mudad!

Honest to god you'd probably have to be a stand user with a weak or strong stand, or, you were one of his kids he had with a lucky woman who survived and got a naked polaroid of him as a 'wow you lived! Congrats, now go have my kid lmao' gift. Or, Maybe you were a normal kid who was kind to him, even if he,,,,  did some questionable murder infront of you. And maybe you were a young

Now, Let's say you were a strong stand user. He'd end up wanting to use a flesh bud until he realized... He never had a kid, that he knows of, and decided to raise you! At first he'd be upset you had a strong stand like your mudad, but realized you could protect yourself from those dreadful joestars! Congrats, You became a Brando! :) How unlucky, Considering this DIO would probably force vampire masks onto you, or even using fleshbuds as a threat. Either way, You'll always be papas baby!

Yoshikage kira.

Like I said in my first post of this, He'd want to have a nice average life. You having a stand wouldn't be a problem, Since he'd probably convince you Josuke and the others are awful and rude.

Josukes sibling? Well, He'd end up telling you he can help your brother with his murder issue if you come with him. You don't exactly have a choice since Killer queen would easily overpower you if you had disagreed. You'd end up being a normal and peaceful child before long, Infact, He'd have to pretend he had adopted you behind his 'wifes' back.

Hayotos friend he never talks about? Congrats, You are now stuck with a crazy and loving father! And a mother, I suppose. And you get your best friend as a brother! You'd never be able to leave, how sad. But, You'd have your new mom and your dad to talk to-! And killer queen cuddle time.

Now, Let's say you were his own kid. Wowzers! You think its normal for your father to bring women hands home, after all, You are pretty young and your father told you most adults do this. Ah. How enjoyable.

Doppio/Diavolo

Oh dear. You poor child.

Either you were related to trish, and he somehow felt like you wouldn't be a problem before they felt more of a father love towards you, Most likely somehow getting rif of the traitors and your big sister.

"Where's big sister?"

"Don't worry about her, She's spending time with your mother."

Smh quit LIEING you jERK!

But seriously, Doppio would be like the fun mom asking you if you'd like bake cupcakes in his spare time! Read you bed time stories and whatnot! Diavolo would be awkward and "wanna play baseball or whatever kids like to do these days?" Awkward dad alert.

"My kid is fine!"

The kid they kidnapped/raised:

Casually trying to beat another kid with a baseball.❤💚💛

Honestly they'd insult everyone elses kids while here their kid is, casually scared of baseball.

Pucci

Papa priest! We all know he'd adopt you! I head canon him as gay, considering DIO and him were totally a thing.

So, He'd probably have you study Lord DIO bibles, and casually have you hate Jolyne. Probably even give you a stand, And even show you that DIO is the best! Worship! Protect yourself and all that!

Jotaro would probably scare you,  so I can see you holding onto Pucci while Jotaro appears anytime, so pucci would infact love it when you snuggle onto him lime a cute kitten. Hell, you even Sneeze like a kitten!

Honestly You'd be kept under watch 24/7, but you'd think it was normal, after all, Your father would mever do something so awful like Those Joestars claim...right?

Diego

Oh wow- dino dad :)

Let's say you were a big fan of his, Then, Well,You wouldn't mind having him as a dad, Now would you? He is your idol, Right? Yeah. Yeah!

He'd probably carry you around upside down, Hot pants just questioning his sanity as he drops you a million times. Hot pants would probably end up carrying you most of the time.

Mama hot pants and father Diego. Y es.

And, Let's say you were traveling with Johnny. Congrats. You've put yourself in a even worse situation considering Diego would become worried and paranoid over those two idiots hurting you! And he hates the idea of his baby boy/girl/child being hurt by barbarians!!!

Even though he'd probably hurt you on accident if I'm gonna be honest.

Kidnapping isn't a very easy job, so of course he had to knock you out! What was he supposed to do?! Ask you to come stay with him forever?! No! Maybe! HuawhuKaia-

Honestly not too many rules, just don't leave his side ever! Except when going to the bathroom. You'll be tied to his horse. No whining >:(.

Funny Valentine

Honestly what did you think he was going to do? Pick some random child? No no, He'd choose the PERFECT child! You were so lucky! Wow! The daughter of the mos powerful man ever! Lucky you, Right?

No. You don't get alone time unless it's you sleeping or bathing. You wear what he wants, and no.

Dating not allowed. Bad. No no no no no.

"No. No dating. Your lips will fall off."

"but mommys lips didn't-"

"Your face will melt off."

Basically you'd be bossed around and treated like royalty, as long as you listen to you dad!

Honestly I don't know if this is headcanons, if if it isn't feel free to scream at me in the comments-

AND I AM SO SORRY ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO ACTUALLY ANSWER, SO I HOPE YOU SEE THIS AND ARE ABLE TO ENJOY IT??? I GUESS???

[daisys-gard3n]

Ik this is my second ask now but like 😶👉👈 Im maybe uhh a liddle in love with Leone Abbacchio rn... 😳 You got any hcs of basically any flavour about this dude? Ik that's super vague but I wuv Goth Pissman lmao -@gunkyengines /@gunkierengines

I only bring the best flavors to the table

also ur first ask will take a lil while oops- 

Leone Abbacchio Headcanons (sfw+nsfw)

sfw

Most people think theres no way abba could get a lover bc he's an edgy bitch

but here you guys are

Even though he's rough and pretty stoic, he's pretty soft when it comes to you

Its like the sorta soft but still trying to look serious sort of situation

He's big on physical pda when its just the two of you

When yall are in public, he holds your hand or keeps a hand on you for comforting purpose

Mornings are so domestic with him

if he gets up in time + if he’s home

he’s big spooning you and he’s practically trying to bury himself into your body bc he wants comfort

when he finally wakes up, he has that husky morning voice as he greets you whatever time of day it is before kissing you

if its a day off, he’s gonna wrap around you and not let go bc he wants the comfort of not almost dying multiple times today

Major tsundere, he’ll buy something for you a claim that he got it on sale or for free and to not think much of it

If you compliment him, he gets flustered and tells you quietly and hesitantly to shut up

but he wants you to keep it up tho

Spider killer in the relationship

Aggressively insistent that you’re not ugly when you call yourself ugly/fat/whatever and tells you to shut up because there’s nothing wrong with you or that you’re blind

Dates involve: candlelight dinners with aged wine, night walks at the beach, and cuddling with cups of tea by a fire and wearing sweaters

Initially hesitant to get in a relationship with you because he has attachment issues that are currently unresolved, but you two develop a strong enough bond and trust to where he feels comfortable around you.

Sometimes, you come home to Leone drunk with Moody Blues replaying a scene with his old partner while he cries and drinks wine

he was initially ashamed that you caught him, but you held him and told him that it was okay that he was feeling sad and that you would always be there to listen to him

you comforted a crying man that night and got a lot of lipstick on your shirt

You have to force care for Abba when he’s obviously stressed out, you push him to change out of his clothes and have a cuddle session or cook him a meal or give him a massage

he’ll complain, but he’ll melt into you without a problem.

He’s kinda awkward at comforting when you’re having a manic moment, but he’ll stay by your side quietly as a way to let you know that he’s there for you.

he’ll try to pat your back or say something, but he just cusses himself out when he makes it worse

Your fights half of the time end up with you leaving, him drinking, and eventually the two of you coming together crying and drunk collectively while slurring out apologies until you two fall asleep on the couch.

If you have a humanoid stand, it and moody blues will come out when there’s nothing going on and act lovey-dovey

he’s embarrassed when it first happens when the gang’s around bc moody blues is showing how he truly feels about you and vice versa

eventually, when you two are the only stand users in the room, you two will bring them out so that they can act lovey-dovey and you two can feel the butterflies in your stomachs.

this happens quite often

Likes to listen to music with you, either from cds, cassettes, or vinyl records he likes the moment

Wants a peaceful life with you in the end. Living in a small house somewhere in a small city without trouble following the two of you.

Calls you ‘Tesoro’ for terms of endearment.

nsfw

Domdomdomdom

bc he’s a bitch and won’t bottom, like he’s gonna fight till the very end if you’re trying to get him to bottom

The other half of the times where the two of you get into fights, it’s usually solved with rough hate-fucking

He’s a rough man when it comes to that; you’ll have bruises and dark hickies e v e r y w h e r e, your ass bright red, bite marks if he’s really pissed off, a lot of shit will end up on the floor bc he pushed them off the surface of whatever to fuck you, and have a great time trying to walk properly for the next couple of days.

When he isn’t trying to break your back: He’s pretty gentle, like he won’t leave bruising marks and stuff. But he will do shit like choking or tying your arms and legs to the bed.

Don’t worry, he’s still human so he’ll make sure you’re doing okay and will immediately stop if you say an established safeword

Into light exhibitionism, like you underneath his desk sucking him off but the door is unlocked and anyone could come in at any moment. Light stuff really gets him off, especially if you do it while he’s talking to Bruno or another gang member. 

Brat tamer extraordinaire

if you’re a little shit, he’ll give you punishments of a lifetime

like, tie you up, stick a toy in you at some level, and leave you there for a while as you squirm and orgasm multiple times

another form of punishment is making you go into public with a toy or something in you, controlling the levels while you try not to moan in public - really into that and he has to hide his hard on bc ya’ll are in public

then he’ll pull you aside to an empty alley and do a quickie if he really needs to let go

 If you’re afab, he’s realllly into squirting

will purposefully overstimulate you until you’re squirting all over the place

such as rapid stimulation to your clit or fucking you while using a toy on you at the same time

this usually happens in the shower bc he doesn’t wanna clean it up or put a towel down.

As for amab, he’s actually into facials

More you getting a facial, but he’s also into getting splashed with cum 

and he will milk you dry

Don’t both dressing up for Abba, it’s gonna end up in pieces on the floor.

6.5″, more on the skinnier side, circumsized, fairly groomed.

Sometimes, he gets moody blues to replay as him from one of your other sexy times and you can get spit roasted by two leones.

Aside from grunts and cussing, pretty quiet.

Three-round man.

Gets quiet and sleepy afterwards, so he’ll do the bare minimum of cleaning you up, have water nearby, and just cuddle you until the two of you fall asleep.

Likes cuddle fucking if there’s nothing else to do.

Dirty talker, that’s for fucking sure

“You like that? You like it when my cock is teasing you like that, Tesoro?”

“C’mon, you can take more than that. I know how much of a whore you really are.”

“Y’know what brats get when they’re bad? They don’t get to cum. So you’re not gonna cum until I say you can. Take this fucking toy and fuck yourself with it, but if you cum I’m gonna make things worse.”

“Aw, did you cum already? I’m not through with you yet. I better see you cum two more times, hear me you fucking slut? I wanna see you milk my fucking cock.”

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight. I wanna fucking cum inside you so bad, fill you up like the slut you are.”

“Tell me what you want me to do to you, Tesoro...Touch what?...Touch your cock/pussy? How? Tell me what to do~”

[solohux]

Prompt: exile!Hux working in an electronics repair shop to feed himself & his baby daughter, who he wears in a harness around his chest so he can keep his hands free. Even though she’s only tiny she starts ‘helping’ with his work by floating things towards him with the Force. One day a customer notices...

Elyse is three months away from her first birthday when the incident happens.

With such a powerful sire, it came of no surprise to Hux to find out that his daughter was just as gifted as the Force as Kylo Ren was and, despite her ridiculously young age, she knows how to best use it. It amuses Hux at home—‘home’ being a single roomed apartment across the street from the repair shop in which he is employed—when Elyse grabs things or makes them float with her Force powers but it becomes dangerous at work. If anyone should see her, Hux daren’t think what would become of them. Here in the Outer Rim, Force users aren’t looked upon as favourably as some other parts of the galaxy and especially not on Kamarlak. This planet was ruined by the Clone Wars: it became the battlefield between Jedi and the Separatist armies that sought to exploit its natural resources. The Jedi won, of course, driving their enemies away from the planet but they did nothing in the aftermath to help the Karmarlak people. Their bitterness towards the Jedi and the New Republic is now a key part of their culture.

Hux knows enough about their history to keep his head down and work. He’s built a fake persona with a fake background just to keep him and Elyse safe from anyone who could link him back to Force users.

Today is a particularly quiet day in the shop so Hux has nothing to worry about. Ko’daan, the store’s owner, trusts Hux enough now to leave him in charge of the premises whilst she runs errands; an honour that Hux takes very seriously. He keeps things tidy and organised as he works, going by the schedule to make sure that priority jobs are completed on time.

He’s good at fixing things. He always has been. Droids, starships, cooking appliances, children’s toys. It saddens him that he couldn’t fix his and Kylo’s relationship before he fled the First Order just before Pryde took over.

He looks around for his wrench, spotting it on the worktop on the other side of the room. He huffs but little Elyse is on cue to wave her hand and flex her fingers at the tool to make it float across the room to his waiting palm.

“Thank you, dear,” Hux mutters to Elyse, who’s strapped to his chest in a coloured harness, and kisses the top of her head. Already, her dark hair is long and unruly for one so young; another of her father’s traits.

Hux sighs, missing Kylo more today than he has before. In her harness, Elyse coos and kicks her legs.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Hux says, tapping her hand with his finger until she grabs hold of it. “I’m just feeling a little lonely today. Sometimes, I just think seeing your father again would solve so many problems. You didn’t even get to meet him. It just makes me sad. But I shouldn’t feel sad, should I? I have you, after all.”

Elyse seems to understand the compliment because she giggles, reaching out her hand again to call a scrap part from across the workspace but as it floats towards them, the coils at the top of the piece of metal fold outwards slowly and soon enough, it doesn’t look like a scrap piece of metal anymore but a flourishing silver flower instead.

“Is this for me?” Hux says, beaming with pride. His baby makes little happy noises and waves her hands as though wanting a hug so he wraps his one free arm around her and nuzzles his nose against her head. Kylo would be so proud of her—

“What the hell was that?”

Hux freezes. He immediately drops the metal flower to the ground and it clangs at his feet. Standing in the foyer of the repair shop is a native Twi’lek customer, who has come to pick up the droid that she is paying to have fixed but she looks shocked, her eyes blown wide and a small, self-defence sized blaster in her hands.

“Ma’am,” Hux holds his hands up heart pounding in his ears. It takes a lot for him to suppress years of First Order training in favour of quiet negotiation. “Put the blaster down, I can explain. Just let me speak.”

“You’ll say nothing, Jedi!” The Twi’lek shouts, her hands trembling. Her finger is on the trigger. “Your kind are not welcome in these parts! They tore apart our town decades ago and we are still rebuilding our lives!”

“I’m not a Jedi, I swear—”

“Then explain what I just saw! Th-that piece of metal! It opened like a flower! I saw you do it!”

“I…” Hux looks to where the metal flower rests on the ground, snapping out of it when Elyse coos and giggles. He wraps his arms around his baby, taking her weight against him instead of the straps of the harness and holds her tightly.

The Twi’lek frowns before gasping, her blaster still aimed at them both, “The child did it? That runt?”

“Don’t call her that,” Hux growls. That word was used by Brendol and his cohort of stuck-up Imperials to describe young Armitage; the cruel insult still haunts his dreams now.

“It was her! No!” The Twi’lek begins to breathe quickly, clearly angry and shocked. “No Jedi shall live here, none! Evil spawn!”

“No, wait!” Hux grabs the hidden blaster from beneath the counter and fires it at exactly the same time as the Twi’lek does, so he gasps and turns to protect Elyse from the shot as best as he can, prepared to give his life for his darling baby.

He thinks of Kylo one last time with fondness.

But no pain comes. He’s holding onto his daughter so tightly that she murmurs with discomfort but he can’t bring himself to let go of her, so desperate for them both to be alright.

The sound of a body falling to the ground makes him jump.

Hux turns slowly, looking back over his shoulder to a familiar sight; a red, frozen blaster bolt fizzing in the air before him, halted in time and space.

After stepping out of its trajectory, his mouth falls open in horrific surprise, looking down to Elyse. He can’t believe that she’s already so powerful that she can halt a fired shot without effort; truly, she’s Kylo Ren’s daughter.

“My darling girl,” Hux gasps, lifting his baby from her harness and cradling her in his arms. She’s smiling at him, kicking her legs out and reaching her hands out to him. “Did you save me?”

“No. I did.”

That voice, so deep and so soothing, sending flurries of emotions through Hux’s veins. It takes a moment for Hux to pluck up the courage to look to its source, fearing for what he might see.

Standing above the body of the Twi’lek is Kylo Ren, his hair short and his face free of that devilishly handsome scar and dressed in the plainest civilian clothes that Hux has ever seen. Somehow, he doesn’t look like that man who Hux once loved so dearly that it nearly destroyed him but those eyes are instantly recognisable.

“Armitage,” Kylo says. It’s the best sound that Hux has heard for a while.

Hux swallows hard. “Kylo…I don’t…”

“Believe it,” he steps over the body and closes the gap between them. “Believe it. I’m here.”

In Hux’s arms, Elyse fusses and reaches out to Kylo. She hates strangers, always crying in their presence or turning her nose up in disgust at the prospect of being held by them but she seems to be wriggling so she can get closer to Kylo, reaching for him.

“Elyse,” Hux whispers, moving her so that she’s sitting on his hip. He kisses her head before pointing gently to Kylo. “This is your father, my love. Your daddy.”

Hux hadn’t realised that he was so lost until now.

[ayo-cowbelly]

Anakin Everlasting

read on ao3 here

wowww look at me, posting writing two days in a row... here’s to being productive

again, blame discord. those amazing angst-lovers keep inspiring me to write and make everyone sad.

hope you enjoy!

p.s. pretty sure it's a thing that jedi live a lot longer than average people, usually over 100 years. so that's why that's in there.

***

Anakin wandered throughout the temple. Not the Coruscant one, as you might think- no, he was on Yavin IV now. Years ago, the Jedi had decided to expand and, seeing as there was an unused temple on a lush planet, a planet that was strong in the Force- it was perfect for a new branch of the Order.

He stared out at the greenery, so different from what he had been used to. Even though he came to this place almost 100 years ago, Anakin couldn't find himself getting fully adjusted to the new environment.

Anakin was now surrounded by greens, blues, and browns, so different from the golds and tans he was used to. Those colors represented everything he loved, everything he'd lost, and that which he could not bear to see taken from him. That was why, even if it was a bit uncomfortable, Anakin had moved to Yavin IV. He has lost so much- and Anakin had never been good with loss.

Yes, time heals all wounds, and of course he'd spent time meditating with Yoda, learning how to let go; Yoda was the only one who could even begin to understand Anakin's plight. Despite that, however, he still found his heart aching when he thought of his friends, his family, and how they had left him.

Padmé had been the first to go. She lived to be 97, and Anakin never stopped loving her. As she got older, Padmé had insisted on Anakin moving on, finding a younger person who could keep up with him, now that she was too frail to even leave the apartment most days. He knew she'd be gone soon, so he promised he'd try to find someone.

It was the only promise he'd ever broken.

"I don't want you to mourn the moment you spent with me for an eternity," She had told him.

Anakin, tears in his eyes, whispered back, "You are my eternity, Angel."

That, even 1000 years later, was still true. He loved her, as many others in the galaxy had loved someone; fiercely, eternally, even if she was dead. Anakin and Padmé had a love that would always be real, be true, as long as he kept her memory alive as he traveled across the stars.

Anakin cried for days when Ahsoka died.

His first and dearest Padawan lived to be 117, and she had been feisty until the very end (only Leia had been able to keep up with Ahsoka in that regard- oh, Force, Leia-)

When she left, laying in her bed with soft condolences and gentle teases and whispers of "Don't forget me, Skyguy," Anakin had thought that would break him, as he held her now-limp hand.

Obi-Wan was worse. Obi-Wan, the oldest family member he had left, had been gone for a long time. His brother had lived to be around 124 (or maybe not, Anakin seemed to be getting worse at keeping track of time the longer his life went on). Obi-Wan had lived a long life, a happy life; and when his time came, he learned enough of the Force that he could still visit Anakin, sometimes.

Every once and awhile, the two could talk (it used to be always, back when Obi lived- but Anakin would be the only one who would get an always). But it wasn't the same. Not even close.

He'd never admit it, but Anakin cried for over a week when Obi-Wan faded away. At that time, he was sure he would shatter; If Padmé hadn't broken him, if Ahsoka hadn't, surely his older brother would.

Obi's death had to be the worst, he was positive.

He was so, so wrong.

Nothing could compare to the pure heartbreak that came with the death of his children.

Luke, who was bright like sunshine and serene like water- and Leia, who was pure fire and somehow engulfed everyone she met. They were the brightest parts of Anakin's life, both in the Force and not. They were the best parts of him and Padmé, and he loved them so incredibly much. And, being twins, Luke and Leia spent almost every moment together since their birth. Throughout their lives, it was rare to see one without the other, for nobody was as closely intertwined as they; save for Anakin and Obi-Wan.

So, when Death came for his children, Anakin had to watch as they left together (there was no other way they could go). He'd had them for an amazing 156 years, years he would forever cherish.

Now he didn't have anyone. But somehow, he was still whole. He hadn't broken then, and he hadn't broken when his later Padawans had died (death was hard for Anakin to think about. Even though he somewhat feared it, he also wanted it, if it meant he could see his dearest ones again). But Anakin knew Death would never claim him, so he made the most out of his eternal life (but it was a half-life, for what is a life without love?)

He took other Padawans, trained other students and treated them as his own. Though he knew it was a bad idea, as nobody could stay forever, they became his family. Just as Ahsoka once had, when she'd stepped out of a shuttle on Christophsis.

Anakin also found he was good at storytelling. Every night, he made his way to the Crèche and regaled the younglings with his stories. The now-legends of a beautiful queen, a wise Jedi Master, a snarky Togruta (who had become a Master in her own right), an exasperated clone captain; and later the stories of a brave young man and his fiery twin sister, the smuggler she fell in love with, and how through it all were two droids who were the best of friends.

He told the next generations about their adventures, how they found joy while fighting a war, and he told them of how they had managed to discover and overthrow the Sith. He taught them how to find the Light, find love, even when hope seems lost.

The younglings loved the stories, ate them up until Anakin had no more, so he'd retell them again. He told them to the children, to the Padawans, to the Knights, and even the Masters (even if they were old, most had grown up hearing of Anakin's adventures). His only rule for those who heard the tales? Pass them on, so the memories stay alive.

He taught them a truth he had discovered: Nobody is ever really gone, as long as you keep on telling their stories.

Anakin forever would.

He made his way to a special room he had reserved for himself in the Temple, for as Grandmaster (now that Yoda was gone, Anakin had become the Grandmaster. Yoda's death, of all people... that had hit Anakin harder than he'd thought it would. When someone who seems to be forever dies, said death is shocking) he could do such things.

When he entered, he looked around the room. He surveyed the pictures and trinkets that lay there, waiting for him.

By Padmé's picture, there was the old Japor snippet necklace- along with a small flimsi paper flower he'd once made for her, onboard a Star Destroyer while thinking of how he missed her.

Beside Obi-Wan's, there was a lightsaber that hummed. It seemed to have a mind of its own now, and the buzzing got louder as Anakin approached- or rather, his own blade did. Just as their users were connected, these lightsabers were as well. There was also a small holo of Anakin and Obi-Wan on Cato Nemoidia, just after that "business" that Obi-Wan always said "didn't count". In the picture, Padawan Anakin is grinning widely, arm slung around a very disgruntled Obi-Wan's shoulders.

Next to Ahsoka's lay her two lightsabers and the golden headdress she'd worn since she was young. Anakin remembers how he'd gently lifted it off her head at the funeral, for if he couldn't keep his sister, his beloved Padawan, then he would keep this small part of her.

Alongside Luke and Leia's (their pictures were one and the same, since they almost never did something without the other) there were their own 'sabers and two drawings the twins made when they were toddlers. If Anakin remembered correctly (as time went on, he found it harder and harder to look at such things) the pictures depicted their family- which of course included Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, Rex, R2 and 3PO.

The two droids had been shut down long ago, finally going out of use just after Padmé's death.

The room housed other pictures, which showed the rest of Anakin's Padawans- including Ahsoka, there were six in total; But even though he kept all their lightsabers, he only had trinkets for two of them.

Uchani, who had been his second Padawan about 40 years after Ahsoka died, had been a quiet but strong Zeltron. She was a calm person, but there was spunk in her that rivaled Leia's. Uchani was amazing at calming Anakin down when he was angry, the gentle waves of her Force presence dousing out the embers in his. She had become his little sister as well.

Then there was Myn. A young Tholothian, Myn was brave and outspoken, and him and Anakin fit well together. He was the sixth student Anakin had taken, and though he loved all his students, Anakin remembered Myn vividly.

In all his eternal years, Anakin had not been prepared for seeing his Padawan die young. In battle, no less.

Myn was slain by a Darksider in the catacombs of Akiva. Anakin had been too late, moments too late; after cutting down the enemy, he watched as Myn's life dwindled.

Knowing Anakin well after ten years of training, Myn had wheezed, "Don't- Don't do anything- anything reckless, Master." 

Anakin refused to look at the wound on his apprentice's stomach. "Myn, we need to get you to a healer-" 

"Master- Anakin-" Myn coughed, and Anakin felt the tears in his eyes overflow and run down his face.

"No, please, not you too," Anakin said, but he already knew what the outcome would be.

"It'll be okay, Anakin," Myn murmered, and then he was gone, just like all the others.  

Anakin shook off the memory of his last Padawan, and he sat down in the middle of the room. Rex's helmet (Rex, who had lived to be 105 once the accelerated aging was healed, had never stopped standing up for what was right. When his body failed him, he switched to words, fighting until the end. Anakin missed his twin so much), which Anakin had kept in as good condition as possible, stared back at him as he told his family of his day.

When he finished, he felt a presence behind him, and wasn't surprised to see the faint blue glow of Obi-Wan's ghost.

"It sounds like you had a good day, Anakin."

"I did," He said back happily. "But it's not over yet. I'm about to go see the younglings- care to join me, Master?"

Obi-Wan smiled softly. "I'd be delighted, Padawan mine."