#but like. i wanted it to be a little understandable even for those unfamiliar w/ mp100 adcafcsfsfsfxz

[espectres]

THE CLOUDS FALL DOWN and they are of crushing rubble and hazardous rods of metal. Puddles of blood dry quickly, and there is no shine that rattles through them as you step there, worn-out snickers pressing on the cement painted with liveless rust. It makes you think of the dead, the lives which has been turned upside down, tossed around before giving in under the weight of heartless cruelty, just like their bodies under the weight of their homes. You stand there in the middle, stranded and small and lost between the jagged ends of torn buildings and your own weariness, mesmerized with how you could look on the dead, the cold limbs and rotting flesh and eyes that speak of unfathomable last terrors- and still, you feel absolutely nothing. 

Because it isn't death that twists your gut brutally, and it isn't the unsightly things that unsettle you- never quite has ... & never will. It isn't death that brings you here, carrying your heavy limbs and restless mind and bright eyes along. They never really lose their shine, your eyes, even rimmed from tearing and hooded by sleepless nights, it's not really their choice, no matter how you look at it, it's never really your choice, either. They stare at everything and nothing, your eyes, at the chaos where you once stood, unstoppable and determined; at the city lights in the distance, how can they go on like nothing has happened ? at the hand that burns by your side, it hasn't recovered from your own recklessness.

What were thinking, anyway ? Housing all that energy within your core ? Was it empowering; to know that you've kept going for months ? Was it relieving; to feel how it fizzled and bubbled and thrived in your veins, alive and overwhelming and threatening to simply burst and kill you ? 

" Shou-chan, " A familiar voice asks, you've been aware of her for a while now, refusing to acknowledge the company as your whole being hides out of sight, stubborn and upset and uselessly invisible. You listen, though, you always do so, carefully. " Do you blame yourself ? " 

You raise your head, your powers falter away and so does your orientation, apparently, because you stare again, but it's as thought you've suddenly forgot all cognitive skills, looking so lost. Maybe you are lost, maybe it's answers that you've come here to find, to find out where did you go wrong, to stop your mind from thinking of what has been and what's to come and what could've been, to help you ease the frightened beating of your heart that refuses to cease, you're so ... you're so afraid ! What are you afraid of ? Isn't it over already ? What worse could possibly happen to you ? You don't know, you don't know, you don't know anything anymore. 

Intead there is the weight of life sitting ever so gracelessly on your shoulders, and the phantom press of hands against your throat, pressing onto your feeble pulse, and you can't talk, you can't move, you can't breath and you're terrified like you've never been your whole life. You couldn't do a single thing, you couldn't change a single thing, you could have done better, if only you'd have been stronger, if only you'd have known better- 

" You never had a chance. " She smiles, she might as well kick you in the stomach. But her eyes are kind in a way, just like your mother when she calls to check on you, just like your healer when he takes care of your reopened scars. None of that mattered, none of that could help you, none of that could save you. None of that could stop you from trying, even if you never had a chance - were you so wrong ? Was it all so pointless ? 

" It was completely out of your control. " She walks away, then. Leaving you behind to your staring and your confusion, the fresh wounds in your hands and the unshed tears, the palpable race of your heart and the unamed, chronic ache in your chest. 

[endlessthxxghts]

Tell Me More

no outbreak!neighbor!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.4k

Summary: Your house is finally empty for the first time in a long time, so you decide to get back in the groove of your witchy practices. Joel stumbles in during your meditation session, and he's intrigued to know more.

Warnings: Religious (Christianity/Catholicism) undertones/religious trauma - brief mention, but does affect reader. Talk of crystals, talk of Tarot cards. Mental health talk, my babies: depression mentions, allusions to wanting to give up in life. EXPLICIT/MATURE CONTENT, 18+ MDNI. Dom/sub dynamics - talks of being collared...getting collared (stfu I’m sobbing)🥲!! These knuckleheads are legit IN LOVE. Age gap. Established relationship. P in V sex. Use of daddy. Allusions to other sexual activity. Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I'm gonna preface this with the fact that this is entirely something I wrote because I was needing comfort. I do witchcraft. I love crystals, I do tarot readings, and all that jazz. Within the last year, I haven’t done much because I’ve been in a living situation in which I have to hide who I truly am. A few nights ago, I got to spend a few hours with someone who partakes in these practices, and I’ve never felt more alive in those two hours than I have in the last year. And I’ve been craving to feel that way again, but again, my living situation prevents me to do so. So, here I am, healing a part of myself through my writing. Even if you guys are unfamiliar in the whole aspect of witchcraft, I hope you guys can enjoy this from the aspect of finding a person who finally accepts you for all that you are. If this isn’t your cup of tea, no hate! Please just scroll away. All my love. Xoxo💚

ONESHOT COLLECTION || MAIN MASTERLIST

Part of What You Need universe! CAN BE READ AS STAND-ALONE!

You told Joel a few hours ago that when he got off work to just let himself inside because you weren’t sure if you’d be having a nap or not. He knew the garage code and knew where the spare key was, anyway. 

So when he was greeted to an empty home at the end of his work day, he didn’t think anything of it. That is, until he entered your room and saw you, legs criss-crossed in the center of your bed, eyes closed, with rocks and playing cards scattered all around your bed, enveloping you in a makeshift circle. 

“Uh, baby?” immediately leaves his mouth as he stares, absolutely confused at the situation before him. 

Your eyes shoot open, not expecting to be in the presence of another human being right now, and a little squeak escapes you. “Oh! Baby! Almost gave me a heart attack,” you say with a light giggle. 

“What are you-” he gestures towards your bed as he walks closer to you, leaning over your bed to give you a chaste kiss, “-up to, darlin’?”

You’re absolutely radiating sunshine right now, and even though his confusion is still getting the best of him, he can’t help but feel giddy in your presence. “Oh, well,” you smile up at him, a hint of shyness in your voice, “I thought I’d take advantage of my family being out on their little vacation, so I wanted to take some time to meditate.” 

“Oh, okay,” he offers you a smile back, one like he understands exactly what you’re talking about even though the sentiment doesn’t reach his eyes. Usually you’d be shying away and scrambling to put your stuff away. But this is Joel you’re talking about here, and he just looks utterly confused. 

You raise your eyebrows slightly, prompting him to ask his question you know he’s dying to ask.

“And this meditatin’,” he says a little hesitantly, “you do it with, um.. with rocks?” 

Your hand flies to your mouth, a slapping sound echoing in the room, in an attempt to stifle your disbelief at his words. “Rocks?” you say perplexed. 

His cheeks heat up at your passionate reaction. “I-”

You scooch your bum over, gather everything on your bed and make some room over for Joel. You pat the space next to you, signaling for him to come over. He sits next to you, tucking one leg under him as the other hangs off the bed. 

You take his hand and hold it palm up, sliding one of the clusters in his palm. “These, my honey, are crystals,” you pause to think for a second. “Well, okay, yes, they’re rocks, BUT-”

His cheekbones raise in amusement. You’re caressing the crystal in his palm, eyes fixated on it as you speak. You think he’s looking at the crystal, but really he’s watching and loving just how passionate you are about this.

You continue on for a good fifteen minutes or so about what crystals are, what meanings they have, and you also mention what powerful properties they carry—whatever that means, he thinks to himself. In all his years of life, he has never heard of anything like this, nor would he ever get into something like this. 

“So, this ro-” you physically cringe at the word. He corrects himself. “This crystal,” he says, “it makes you sleepy?” 

He’s trying. And it makes you want to swallow him whole and never let him go. You think for a second, pondering the implications behind the crystals properties of the Amethyst crystal sitting in his palm. Inner peace. Rest. Relaxation. You smile to yourself at how Joel processes the information. Looking up into his eyes for the first time since your little tangent, “Yeah, baby, you’re getting it,” you say with a gentleness in your voice, the brightest of smiles on your face. 

Since he’s been with you, he has never seen you interact with any of this stuff before. It must be something you do on the down low, or something you rarely have a chance to indulge in. Whatever the case may be, the genuine light and happiness radiating off of you is addicting, and if it’s because of these things, he’ll gladly learn everything there is to know. 

He gently places the Amethyst down beside you, and picks up a light blue one, tower shaped. “This one magic, too?” 

Your eyes positively brighten, more than they are now. His heart beats stronger at the sight. You tell him the crystal he’s holding is called Celestite, and it helps with inner peace and is supposed to help guide you to a more divine consciousness when you meditate. He smiles with you, offering the occasional nod and grunt to signify he’s listening to you even though everything coming out of your mouth sounds like a foreign language to him. 

After the fifth round of him picking a crystal for you to explain, he opts for the cards sprawled all over your bed. “This… magic involves… card games?” He grimaces as the words leave his mouth, silently cursing himself for the insensitivity of his vocabulary. You stifle a laugh, knowing he didn’t mean it that way though, which is why you can’t help but pull him into a sweet kiss before you go on and explain. 

“What was that for?” He asks, cheeks reddened slightly. 

“Nothing, baby, I just love you.”

He presses another kiss to your forehead. “I love you, sweet girl. Now, tell me more about these not playing cards, please.”

Your cheeks hurt from all the smiles he’s been pulling from you. “Mhmm, so these are called tarot cards, my love.”

The next hour is spent with you explaining the cards, what they do, and what kind of things people use them for. Joel seems confused, weirded out, and impressed all in one. 

“Ain’t no way this lil thing answers my life questions,” he deadpans. 

“Okay, no it doesn’t give definite answers- these aren’t fortune tellers,” you say. He sees the gears turning in your head, trying to find a better way to explain to him. “They give advice or feedback…” you start. “They give guidance for the situation your current self is in. They aren’t meant to be taken like law or religion, but more so like if your friend was a therapist. They can give you advice, but not too much without crossing the patient-therapist threshold. Just tiny nudges in a potentially better direction.” 

Now it’s your turn to see the gears turning in his head. His smile slowly spreads the moment it actually clicks for him. “Oh, wait, that actually is makin’ sense to me,” he says a little more excited than usual. He places kisses on your forehead, cheek, and lips, trying to place his excitement somewhere. You laugh in his embrace. You’re beyond excited that the most important person in your life is open to something so unconventional, so taboo. 

For years, you’ve had to hide this little part of you for fear of your family shunning you. They’d kick you out without a second thought if they found out about this. They would be unwilling to hear your explanations and would deduce your actions down to the work of the Devil. 

They wouldn’t care that immersing yourself in the craft—whether this stuff is actually real or not—is what saved your life, time and time again. They wouldn’t care that when you had the worst depression episode, it was meditating, learning the meanings of different crystals, and connecting with the Earth and the divine that taught you the meaning of life again. None of them would ever be willing enough to even try to understand. 

“Thank you,” you say in a mere whisper, eyes glossing over slightly. 

He sees your eyes. His hand snakes up to your jaw, bringing your face closer to his, noses ghosting against one another. “For what, darlin’?” 

“For trying to understand. For acting like you want to.” Your eyes falter from his. His thumb caresses your cheekbone, trying to spark your attention back up to his gaze. It does. 

“No, baby. I want to. No actin’ here.” His lips meet yours, warming you from the inside out.

“You swear?” you ask him as he pulls away. 

His eyebrow quirks up at your antics. Your bottom lip juts out in a pout. “Swear?” you repeat. 

“On my life,” he says. 

You place one more kiss to his lips before you’re pulling away and sliding off the bed. “Come, I’ll cook. You haven’t eaten since this afternoon, huh?” 

“Guilty,” he tells you, face warm at how well you know him. “Mhmm. Do you mind just putting the cards back in that box over there for me real quick?” 

“Of course, darlin’.” 

“Thank you, baby,” and with that, you’re out in the kitchen, whipping up a small meal for the both of you.  

As he grabs all the cards, putting them in a stack before he slides them in the box, a singular card jumps out of his hands. He remembers what you said earlier. 

The way that I like to do it is by shuffling the deck and letting the card itself jump out at you! There are many ways to do it, but I don’t know. I like the pure chance of doing it that way.

He picks up the card, softly speaking to it. “Jumpin’ out for me?” He has to pull the card to and from his eyes a few times before his vision becomes clear. Love, the card reads. He smiles to himself, his heart giving him all the explanation he needs for the meaning of it. He places the card into his flannel pocket to show you after you dinner.  

With both your tummies satiated, you begin to gather the dishes when Joel throws you a stern look. Whether you two are actively in your dynamic or not, you know not to test that look. You settle back down in your seat, hands held up defensively with the smallest of airy giggles. 

“Ya know better than that, darlin’, especially if you cooked.”

“I know, I know,” you say to him apologetically. “I’ll take care of it,” he breathes, “but first,” he stands up, leaning over your shoulder so you both can look at the card from a good angle when he pulls it out. “Remember what you were sayin’ earlier ‘bout your cards jumpin’ out at ya and whatnot?” 

“Yeeaahh,” you drag out, turning your head and looking up at him curiously. 

“Well,” he reaches for the card tucked safely in his pocket. “As I was puttin’ them back in the box, this one just came out at me.” He sets it down softly in front of you. 

“Oh?” You’re eager to see which card. Love, your eyes read. Your heart beats five times stronger, and your smile grows ten times cheesier. 

“Does it mean anythin’?” He asks. “For our..current situation?” He has a silliness in his voice, but you can tell he’s genuinely curious. 

“It means…” you start, your eyes slowly leading back to meet his own. You stare into his eyes for a moment, soaking in the warmth, the safety, the love that he always gives you so willingly. A moment extra passes, and you’re still in a trance. He sees your stare fade from adoration into something more deep, needy. His stare changes, too. The pretty brown of his eyes nearly erased with arousal in your sudden change of energy. He quirks his eyebrow, reminding you to speak.

“It means.. Daddy needs to take me to bed,” you say, voice soft and shaky with arousal. 

“Is that right?” he asks, his deep voice vibrating you from the outside in.

His mere tone has you slipping already, your voice automatically pushing out a reply, knowing he requires a response after every question. “Y-yes,” you say. 

He leans in to give you a slow, heated kiss, his hand finding its way to your jaw. He pulls away, much too soon to your liking, but you don’t protest. “Bed. Now,” he says, standing himself to full height. “Yes, sir,” you say as you shoot up from your seat, making a bee line to your bedroom. “And in position,” he yells to you. 

You don’t respond to him then, but that’s okay. He knows his sweet girl heard him; he knows how good of a listener you are. Which is why he refrains from his original idea of teasing you—of clearing the dining table and washing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen—before he gives you what you need. 

Instead, he only clears the dining table, saving everything else for later and coming to you. He finds you, completely stripped of your clothes, centered at the middle of your bed, sitting on your haunches, palms face up on your thighs, eyes casted downward. Eager yet patient. Aching with need yet satiated knowing that you will be taken care of. His sweet girl. So good.

His shirt is the first to go, left somewhere at the doorway of your room. He’ll grab it later. For now, even though no one else is in this house, he shuts your door, wanting both of you to be completely consumed with one another and nothing else. He pulls the rest of his clothes off as he makes his way to the edge of your bed, leaning over. Your eyes are still downcast until his fingers are on your chin, bringing your attention to him. 

He can’t help but melt into a puddle with the way you’re looking at him. It’s almost as if he created the entire Universe for you. “Mi alma (my soul),” he says. “You’re always so good for me. Always.” He brings your lips together in a soft embrace. You chase his touch as best as his grip allows you to when he pulls away. 

Even softer than the kiss, he asks “How do you want me?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you respond, “I just need to feel you. Every single part of you, Daddy, I-”

He cuts your babbling off with a kiss, and this time, he doesn’t break it as he pushes you to lay on your back. He doesn’t break it as he lines himself up with you. He doesn’t break it as your legs go to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. He foregos all forms of prep or foreplay, knowing you need him just as desperately as he needs you. 

The rest of your guys’ night is filled with exactly this. Feeling—and filling—each other in the deepest ways possible. He makes you cum on his cock several times before he fills you to the brim with his spend, kissing and licking into your mouth, all over your neck, and any other areas he can reach without straying too far from your face. He sees his entire existence in your eyes; he needs to be there as he gives himself to you. 

Reluctantly, he pulls away, lowering himself down your body and settling into the space between your thighs. He marvels at what a pretty mess both of you made, your shine all over as his cum begins to leak its way out of you. He leans forward, flat tongue licking up a slow, wet path across your entire sex. He stays there for hours, pulling climax and climax out of you, his belly feeling full at how much he’s taken from you. 

Even as you reach the territory of overstimulation, you don’t care. You want more. You need more. 

Joel makes his way back up to you, missing the feel of your mouth on his. As he looks up though, he sees tears pooling in your eyes. His hands immediately go to your face, thumbs catching the runaway tear. “Talk to me, baby,” his voice quivers, his feelings heightened at the emotional intensity of the last several hours. 

“I-” you choke back a sob. “Please don’t ever leave me, baby. I don’t think-” you take a shaky breath, more tears escaping your eyes. “I can’t live without you, baby, I need you, I love you, please don’t ever leave-”

His lips are back on yours, soft and all-consuming, stealing your anxieties and stowing them far away where they will never poison your mind ever again. 

“Never,” he says. “I’m yours, my sweet girl. Always. I’m not goin’ anywhere that’s not with you. I love you more than anythin’ in this fuckin’ world. You’re never gettin’ rid of me, ya hear, mi flor? (my flower),” he says as he gives your head a small shake, making sure his words are etching themselves into every groove of your brain so you never forget it. 

It’s been a week since that night you and Joel had your house to yourselves, and he still can’t shake the burst of insecurity that infiltrated your mind. Which is why he finds himself at a local (witch)craft store—way out of his depth but still set on finding the perfect thing to seal his love for you. 

You two have discussed the concept of a collar before, and you showed a genuine interest. It was a tangible reminder of who you belonged to, and it definitely made your heart skip a beat. However, you weren’t so attuned to the idea of the actual image of a traditional collar, and neither was Joel. The conversation was cut short because you got pulled into another task that had to be taken care of, and the topic was never brought about again. But Joel thinks about it more often than you think. 

In some dynamics, collars are accessories that a Dominant and submissive work their way up to. In a way, the collar symbolized a promise. It symbolized forever. For some, it was their wedding ring equivalent. That was what intrigued Joel so much. So, after last week, the idea has been eating away at him. 

And that’s when he saw it. A beautiful necklace, the chain, a mix of green crystals—your favorite color—all various shades, with a beautiful, metal pendant sitting at the heart of the necklace. It was a short chain, slightly longer than how a collar would wrap around your neck, but still mimicked the effect of one. You talk often about how much you love the moon and that night you talked about the amazing energy the moon provides. The pendant was a moon with a star hanging from the top of the moon’s crescent figure. It was perfect. It was you. 

He finds the worker and goes through the motions of purchasing the necklace for you. Of course, Joel wanted a tangible thing to symbolize his promise to you, and that’s when another idea struck him. He turned back around into the store. 

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says. “Ya wouldn’t happen to have any rings, would ya? Preferably one with a moon?”

The lady gives a knowing smile. “Right this way,” she says. She may not understand the dynamic between the two of you, but she definitely can recognize a lovestruck man when she sees one. 

He calls you on his way home from the store. 

“Hi, mi luna (my moon),” he says. “What are you up to right now?”

“Hi, baby,” you respond giddily, his mere presence, whether on the phone or in person, always makes your mood one hundred times better. Hearing his little nickname for you though throws you off guard, forcing you to ignore his question. “Luna?”

He smiles. “It means moon.”

“No, yeah, I know that, baby,” you softly chuckle, “I meant, what inspired it?”

“No reason,” he says nonchalantly. “Was that okay though?”

“I like anything that comes outta your mouth, baby,” your voice laced with a filth he knows all too well. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his cock from stirring. “Darlin’,” he says, voice strained. 

You stifle a laugh, knowing how easy it is to get him going. “Hmmmm?”

“You better choose your next words very wisely, girl.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you offer quickly as you fill his ears with your addicting laughter, “I’m done, I promise.”

He grumbles something incoherent, ever your handsome grump, then reminds you about his question. 

“Oh, right, sorry! I just got done cooking lunch for everyone. I’m in my room now, though.”

“Can you come over for a bit?”

“Always. You home now?” 

“Just parkin’, baby.”

“On my way, Sir,” you say, holding in another little giggle. 

“Fuckin’ trouble,” you hear him say before he ends the call. 

You meet him as he gets out his car, him pulling you in for a bruising kiss that immediately has your core pulsing. “Well, hello to you too, cowboy,” you smirk as he pulls away. He smacks your ass as he turns you around and starts guiding you inside, one hand on your hip, the other holding the bag with your new necklace inside. 

Not wanting him to let go of you, you spin in his arm and reach for his keys, turning back to unlock his front door. 

“So,” he starts as you break away from him, making your way to his couch. He immediately goes to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water, placing it in your hands rather than the table because he knows you probably haven’t had a moment to hydrate yourself, having just finished taking care of your family as he called you. 

You drink half the glass gratefully, bringing the rest to his mouth as he sits next to you, knowing he probably hasn’t hydrated himself either. He finishes it then sets the glass down on the coffee table. 

“I got you somethin’.” He tries to sound mysterious, but really he’s sounding like an excited schoolboy ready to share his treasure with the class. 

“Oh yeah?” you say. “May I ask why? It wasn’t expensive, right?” You soften at your last question.

He knows you get a little apprehensive at the idea of money being spent on you. But he abides by your wishes too much to his liking, so this, he allows himself. “The number don’t matter, baby. Close your eyes and turn around.” 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you mutter under your breath, adjusting yourself to be between his legs, his one stretched across the couch as the other hangs off the side. 

Once you settle in front of him, he leans over to grab the bag from the table and pull the necklace out. “Eyes closed, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“You remember a while back our conversation on collars?”

“Yes?” you say, a questioning inflection present. 

 “Well…” Joel trails off. Right as you jump to speak at his weird behavior, you feel cold metal grace the skin of your neck. You gasp at the sudden change in temperature, fighting for your life to keep your eyes closed until he tells you to do otherwise. 

“I know neither of us wanted the traditional look. Something more sly has always been our style, huh? I hope I chose okay,” he says softly.

“I’m gonna cry, can I please open my eyes now?”

“Yeah, bab- no, actually, wait,” he says, pulling you to stand up, his hands on your hips, guiding you to the mirror in his en suite bathroom. “Okay, yeah. Open.”

The second your eyes open and land onto the ethereal necklace resting on your chest, you can’t help the flood that falls from your eyes. “Joel,” you breathe out. “Baby, oh my god.”

“Is it alright?”

You turn in his arms, your eyes now directly on his instead of through your reflection. “Baby, really? Is it alright? This is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” your voice cracking through each word. 

His cheeks are a little blushed, slightly bashful at your praise. “I just- I wasn’t sure what to choose or what crystal had what magic, but what really sold me was the moon,” he says as his hand comes up to caress the pendant. 

You respond to him by pulling him in for a kiss. One in which you hope tells him everything he needs to know about how grateful and how truly, deeply in love with him you are. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as he kisses into you, replicating the same feeling back to you. You begin to smile through the kiss as something else clicks for you. You pull away from him. 

“Is this why you called me luna earlier?”

“You don’t like it?”

“No, baby, I actually really love it,” you smile up at him, butterflies erupting in his belly at the sight. “Coming from only you though.” His hand snakes up to grab your jaw, pulling you into his mouth as he whispers mi luna before crashing himself onto you for another kiss. 

You pull away from him, breathless, and turn to face the mirror again. You’re too entranced by the beautiful jewelry to keep your eyes off of it for too long. His hands snake around your waist, and it’s then that you notice it. 

You freeze. You grab his left hand, an antique looking moon, identical to the one on your neck, wrapped around his ring finger, staring back at you. Your eyes flick back up to your guys’ reflection, meeting his eyes. “Was waitin’ for you to notice,” he says. 

If you thought you were sobbing before, then you’re an absolute wailing mess now, hiccuping like a little child who is yet to learn how to control their emotions. “I love you so fucking much,” you say as best as you can in between each hiccupped breath you take.

He turns you back to face him, cupping your face with both hands, peppering your face with kisses everywhere he can manage. Soft I love you’s leave his mouth in a chant, praying to his one and only Goddess. 

He lets you cry it out, he knows you need to. As soon as you're less of a blubbering mess, he’ll remind you that he is forever yours until you choose otherwise. He’ll remind you that although he takes charge ninety-nine percent of the time, it’s because you let him. 

He’ll remind you just how much he’s irrevocably in love with you, verbally, physically, and every other way he can. From now until forever. 

End Note: Thank you all so much for reading! Likes, comments, reblogs, etc. — all your support means the absolute world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do this without all of you. Thank you so so so much. There are genuinely not enough words to express my gratitude. As always feedback (at a technical sense) is also super super helpful whether it is constructive or positive! Anything helps me to be the best writer that I can be. All my love! Xo

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @survivingandenduring @getitoutofmymind @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @akah565 @pedrostories

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

[yanderes-galore]

Hi Panther,

Wow Tranformers went fast. May I please ask for Star Wars Yandere Headcannons, With Grand-Admiral Thrawn towards child reader. Maybe one one he adopted or took an interest because of some genius intellect or serious artistic talent.

Thanks,

Bookwyrm

I can try. Darling is at least 18 in this but it is implied Thrawn has had you for awhile since I don't do child reader. Hope I get his character right, I watched Lore Videos to try and understand him since I was unfamiliar with him :( If he's totally wrong my bad!

This is also a general view, not any specific series or media. I hope next time If I write his character I am more familiar with him ^^;

Yandere! Platonic! Grand Admiral Thrawn with Adopted! Darling

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Manipulation, Overprotective, He's actually an okay dad (minus the manipulation), Toxic parenting at times, Dubious companionship.

Thrawn is one of the best strategists/tacticians.

He prefers to take a non-lethal approach and would rather just manipulate those around him to get a desired outcome.

Thrawn prefers to plan out entire outcomes, opting for winning wars instead of battles.

He can outplay others with his extreme intellect and planning.

Thrawn is also very patient.

He isn't sadistic like many in the Empire, he actually wants to prevent potential dangers in the galaxy.

He isn't really evil... just has his own goals despite who he works for.

Plus in both canons it's confirmed Thrawn is an exiled Chiss, tossed out by his species.

Despite this he still cares for his people.

When Thrawn first met you he did take you in for one of the traits you mentioned.

Perhaps you are intelligent and capable of planning/tactics.

That or maybe you have a talent for understanding the arts of cultures.

Either way, Thrawn would've taken you in if you showed potential to be taught by him.

I feel Thrawn would've taken an orphan or an abandoned child.

He'd sympathize for you due to being cast aside himself and notice desirable traits in you.

Thrawn most likely took you in because he saw pieces of himself in you.

As a result he felt he could mold you into the successor he feels you deserve to be.

Thrawn wants to try and raise you to look at the bigger picture, to have the genius he does.

The Empire most likely has little issue with him taking you in.

They assume he'll make you loyal to them and be just as promising.

Thrawn prioritizes teaching you what he knows.

He teaches you certain tactics and quizzes you to see if you were listening.

He has you study cultural art to teach you his way of planning.

Thrawn actually seems like he'd be okay as a dad.

However, he is incredibly manipulative.

His teachings are ways he can influence your actions.

You don't know it but Thrawn is making you like him.

All you care about is the fact you have a dad.

Thrawn encourages this by trying to be fatherly, too.

When alone he often coddles you.

He praises you and holds you, attempting to give positive reinforcement.

At first his actions towards you are planned like everything else.

But then Thrawn really starts to see you as his child.

He was truly meant to be your parent... in his eyes.

Thrawn cares for you up until you're a young adult.

Thrawn has raised you to share his skills.

While he plans out attacks and overall strategy/plans, you pipe in to give advice.

By this point he has taught you well.

You're even gaining Imperial ranks of your own.

Even if you're an adult Thrawn still tries to be close with you.

He's happy you're successful, fully molded into what he wants you to be.

Yet he isn't ready to just let you go.

Even if you fight him he is adamant you stay by him to plan.

He makes it seem like things will collapse if he doesn't have you help him as his child.

He even tries to hug you like he did when you were young, despite you pushing him away.

Thrawn as a parent would make his child into who he feels they should be, then expect them to stay by his side.

He tries to mean well... but in reality he has used you.

He'd manipulate you even when you're fully grown.

Yet he'd never put you in harm's way.

He loves you as your adoptive father.

Perhaps he should've never gotten attached?

As said before I don't believe he himself would kill.

He tries to use tactics to influence desired outcomes.

If Thrawn feared you'd leave him or wish to change your loyalty...

He has methods of changing that.

You may be his child... but he will not tolerate you leaving him after he took you in.

Most parents expect their child to leave the nest.

Thrawn doesn't want you too.

Especially if you happen to swap sides.

He feels you're stronger with him... loved with him...

So he'll convince you to listen to your father...

Even if it means he has to re-educate you behind a cell.

[crystalxwitch]

10| Surprise - W. Maximoff

Summary: An unexpected guest disturbs your peace.

Masterlist

"Seriously?" 

Wanda shrugs her shoulders, holding onto the pan tightly. You need to work on her defense mechanism. A pan isn't exactly the best weapon. But better than nothing.

With small steps, you creep towards the porch. Not making a sound, you push the door open with a sudden shove and jump outside. With your hand balled into fists, you scan the area for anything unfamiliar. 

"What is it?" Wanda whispers behind you.

Your eyes land on something bright. You blink. It's still there. You blink again. Green eyes. You would recognize this blonde hair from anywhere. It's not a stranger. False alarm. You lower your fists. 

"Nat?"

The blonde grins from ear to ear. Your mind can't catch on to the sudden turn of events. Natasha is here? Wanda carefully nears herself to you again, the pan pressed against her side. A sound of confusion escapes her mouth as well. 

"There are my two favorite people in the world!" Natasha cheers, ignoring the small moment of shock. "Surprise!"

In two steps, the blonde is on the porch. She falls into your arms, hugging you with force and squeezing the air out of your lungs. You return the huge trying to push the thoughts surrounding the hows and why's away. 

"What are you doing here?" Wanda asks.

Natasha pulls back, turning her attention to the redhead. Wanda has a small furrow on her forehead. You take a step to the side so that Natasha can walk past you.

"A bit more enthusiasm, please. I thought you would be happy to see me." Natasha pouts her lips. "Isn't my surprise not to your liking?"

"Yes, of course!" Wanda immediately replies. "It's just…a surprise, that's all."

"Come here, little witch." She opens her arms, beckoning closer with her crooked index finger. "I'll let it drop when you hug me."

Wanda scoffs. "I would love nothing more than that, shortie.

You observe the interaction with a grin. Natasha is truly tiny compared to you both even though you aren't that tall. A hug later, you walk back inside the cabin. 

"I see that you didn't burn the house down…yet," Natasha says. "My prayers were heard."

"Why would you think that?"

Natasha gives the redhead an amused glare, biting down on her tongue. "Wanda, dearest…I don't have much faith in your cooking skills."

Wanda's mouth falls open. You want to defend her, but the blonde already continues to move into the living room. You and Wanda share a short eye contact, rolling your eyes at the same time. You chuckle, quickly following Natasha because you don't want her to notice you falling behind. Knowing Natasha, she would immediately question it and read more into it than there is…

That's not entirely true. Nevertheless, letting Natasha get wind of your new kind of relationship isn't in nobody's interest. 

"To be brutally honest, I thought you both would have killed each other already. Good to see that that didn't happen…a murderer would be bad for business."

"There's still time." Wanda quietly mumbles, too low for Natasha to hear but loud enough for you to understand it.

She's not happy about this surprise. But who can blame her after we were so rudely interrupted?

Natasha grazes her fingertips over the bookshelf. "Now…What were you guys up to?"

Before you appeared in front of the door? The blood rushes in your ears. You gulp, parting your lips but Wanda already comes to your rescue. 

"A few things to be honest…We went on a hike. We cooked together. Then we went to the pond an-"

"My pond." Natasha corrects her.

Wanda rolls her eyes. "It's not your pond, Nat."

"After what I did there…yeah, it is mine." Her voice holds something suggestive in it, giving the redhead a toothy grin. "I remember it as if it was yesterday. July 2020. Those were fun times."

You look at Wanda who's already staring at you with wide, disgusted eyes. It's not like you didn't warn her. Natasha crosses her arms in front of her chest, attentively watching the small interaction.

You shrug. "Told you."

Wanda turns away. A disgusted gagging sound escapes her throat. You chuckle, giving the blonde an amused glare. Natasha mirrors your expression, giving Wanda a gentle pat on the shoulder. It doesn't help the situation. She was in that water where she… She can't even think about it.

"Wanda, I didn't think of you as such a prude. You should be happy for me…that was a ten out of ten experience. I can only recommend it to you."

"Shut up." Wanda's hand presses down her stomach. "I'm going to puke."

Natasha shakes her head and clicks her tongue in a warning. "Na-ah, not on my carpet."

"That's what you're worried about?!"

Natasha takes a careful step in her direction. "No…maybe a tiny bit."

Wanda grumbles. Not able to watch this any further, you clear your throat. Two pairs of green eyes land on you. Jesus, why do they have such an intense stare? You point to the couch.

"Why don't we sit down for a minute and you can finally tell us the reason for your visit," I say. "I bet we're both waiting for a reasonable explanation for why you have come here. It's not a day-to-day trip to fly out of the States."

"So many questions." Natasha sighs but willingly takes a seat next to you.  "But I guess I owe you an explanation."

She crosses her hand on top of her legs. Wanda sits down in her usual spot. Her favorite armchair. Purposely, Natasha drags out the silence. You quickly but surely grow impatient. Did she decide to spend the rest of your vacation with you? God, no. Please let that not be true.

"I'm going to…buy another cabin!" Natasha breaks the silence, clapping her hand together. "A friend of mine doesn't want to keep it any longer and reached out to me a week ago. I obviously wanted to tell you guys but since there's no service in the mountains, I couldn't warn you."

"Damn the mobile network." Wanda pulls her knees up to her chin, tilting her head to the side in thought. "But it makes sense."

Natasha laughs. "Of course it does. Did you think I'd be lying to you, dearest?"

"I don't know…sometimes you like to keep your secrets to yourself."

"You can rest assured, this time it's the whole truth. I'm actually on my way to the guy but wanted to make a quick halt here. Check the situation."

"Meaning you wanted to make sure that both of us are still breathing." You mumble, raising a brow. 

"Exactly!"

~

"Can you get me the box from the top of the bookshelf, y/n? I obviously can't reach it but you should be able to if you stand on the chair." 

You walk up to the blonde who stands in front of the bookshelf, looking at the ceiling. There's a box? You haven't noticed it before. Unable to say no to her, you carefully climb on top of the chair. If you stand on your tiptoes, you should be able to reach it.

"Be careful." Wanda watches you with huge eyes and quickly is by your side. "The chair is unsteady."

Wanda places her hand on the chair, making sure that you wouldn't fall. Finally being able to reach the box, you groan as the weight makes itself known by the way your muscles tense. You breathe deeply as you lower the box on the floor. What is in there? Bricks? 

"Oh my, did you work out in the past months?" Natasha grazes your arm, clicking her tongue in respect. "You're not as soft as you used to be. Something changed."

Heat rises to your face at the compliment. You aren't someone who can take a compliment easily.

"Yeah, I carried some extra weight recently." You joke to hide your flushed state. 

Wanda gives you a deadly look. Truly. If looks could kill you'd me lying on the floor. Natasha laughs, playfully slapping you against your shoulder. You bite down on your tongue. 

"You thankfully haven't lost your humor after those days in solitude. I believe you get on Miss Maximoff's nerves quite easily."

"Actually…we get along just fine." Wanda interferes, standing up from the couch. "Does anyone want tea? I'm going to make some for myself."

Natasha shakes her head. "No thanks, I'm good."

Something seems off. Wanda slowly nods her head, her attention moving to you. Her emerald eyes don't have the shine that they usually have. You part your lips but Wanda already speaks again.

"Coffee?"

"Y-yeah."

"Okay." Wanda turns around and disappears out of the room without another word. 

"That was…weird to say the least. Are you sure that you get along fine with each other? There seems to be quite a heavy tension between you two."

"Nothing that I know of." You honestly reply, shrugging your shoulders. "Maybe she doesn't know how to handle us both at the same time. You know…she isn't as bad as you believe. At cooking."

Natasha leans forward. "Oh, really?"

"If that wasn't true I wouldn't be standing here."

~

Natasha excuses herself for a moment, carrying the box back to her car. There's something in there that is important for the meeting with the guy. Documents? You don't remember. Clearly, it isn't that important to you because why else would you have forgotten it the moment the blonde told you?

You take the small moment of peace to confront Wanda about her weird behavior. The air feels heavy, reminding you of the first days with her. You enter the kitchen, closing the door behind you. Wanda doesn't turn around to look at you, acting occupied with the tea.

"What's wrong?" You ask, furrowing your brows. "Why are you behaving all distant again?" 

Wanda shakes her head. "Nothing."

She pours the boiling water into the cup. The steam rises in the air. Your heart beats in your throat. 

"Everything is fine." She mumbles, feeling your stare piercing through her skin.

"I can see that it's not nothing. Did I do something wrong?" You catch her arm, holding her back as she wants to push past you towards the door. "Talk to me and help me understand."

She presses her lips together, staring daggers into the floor. The sound of the birds swarming through the air reaches your ears. A second goes by. You cross your arms in front of your chest. Unmoving, not letting her leave the room without an explanation.

"Wanda."

"It's just- I don't know…Natasha, she- she…" Wanda rambles, squeezing her eyes shut and sighing heavily. "I don't know what to think of the fact that she's here. I- I liked it when it was just…us."

"I see…"

Wanda swallows harshly, looking over your shoulder to keep avoiding your eyes. This isn't going to work. Breathing deeply, you take a quick glance out of the window. The blonde isn't going to come back soon for the next couple of minutes with her car parked at the end of the path.

"Let me remind you of something because I think you have forgotten." You cup her jaw, running your thumb over her cheeks. "I kissed you this morning…that isn't something I do lightly."

"Me neither…But-"

"There are no buts, Wanda." You cut her sentence off, knowing that she would overthink each moment with Natasha again. "There's only you and me. Nobody else."

Wanda sighs, her shoulders relaxing. "Okay…you're right. I don't know what came over me."

Your eyes flicker between her eyes and lips. With one reassuring glance out of the window, you meet her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. There's no lust driven passion. No out of breath panting. There's just her. Gently. Lingering. Her hands run over your back, settling around your waist.

Not wanting to risk getting caught by Natasha, you disconnect the kiss. Wanda hums, trailing her fingers through your hair. Your heart beats in the same rhythm as hers. Keeping your eyes closed, you nudge your nose against hers. 

"My sweet princess…don't you understand? You're the only one in this cabin I have eyes for." You see the smile on her face without opening your eyes. "Not even Nat can come close to you."

"I told you not to call me that ever again." Wanda whispers, leaning her forehead against yours. "How many times do I have to remind you?"

You grin. "I know…that's why I'll keep calling you that...Princess."

[ge]

can I hear more abt your trans chung myung thoughts please

.

HEHE ANYTHING FOR YOU MY ANGELS... trans chung myung is like my number one, most well loved & personal, firmest hc evur.. no matter what he is always trans to me idk..he is like the most trans character ive ever seen its sooo real to me.. ive said it once ill say it again, chung myungs lore is literally impact by his transsexualism and im the only one who sees it.. if u get it u get it... a little cw for minor transphobia out of ignorance, not prejudice..⬇️

i always imagined that chung myung knew he was trans since he was very young, like 'beginning to comprehend words and what they mean' young.. he always got angry and aggressive when his sect siblings called him young lady or samae, sajeo, etc, lashing out even at elders to the point hed get in trouble over it... i think pretty quickly everyone figured out if they just 'humoured' him, he'd get over whatever phase he was in and stop being so troublesome, so they did.. at first they began using more masculine terms and honourifics in a 'wink wink nudge' indulgent kind of way but they noticed as he got older, he started inserting himself into more male dominated spaces, even going so far as to bathe and groom himself w the other male disciples

at first it kind of set off red flags for everyone who were still under the impression chung myung was still just going through his little 'phase' but i think chung mun was the first who stepped up and actually ASKED chung myung about it.. he pulls chung myung to the side one day and asks WHY chung myung keeps doing the things he does and chung myung frowns and says because im a boy sahyung..DUH.. chung myung explains the best he can but bc he doesnt really know how to articulate himself on these matters (doesnt know any other trans people or experiences outside of his own and cant put it into words properly) and bc chung mun is cis, chung mun is still a little confused but now he understands chung myung isnt like..joking about this, or going through some sort of phase.. he seemed genuinely put out and upset when implied chung mun didnt understand him so from that day forward chung mun very firmly introduces chung myung to everyone in the sect as their littlest brother and that was pretty much that..

it probably took some people a while to wrap their head around, but because i dont want anyone in mt hua to be transphobic LOL they all understand and accept chung myung as their new baby brother pretty quickly and soon they dont even bat an eye seeing him train topless or bathe w the rest of the guys, doing other guy dominated activities, etc.. when he got older it was just normalized that one of their brothers had boobs..literally nobody gaf theyre REAL trans allies.. mount hua most PROGRESSIVE MARTIAL ARTS SECT

also majorly hc chung myung does not have any bodily dysphoria/morphia and is perfectly fine w the way he looks, especially after he gets older and starts building lots of muscle, so he never undergoes any gender affirming surgeries but he does take wuxia testosterone pills.. cuz i think the idea of wuxia magic hormone pills is hilarious and awesome

ive also put some thought into whether cho sams body would be trans or cis, because either could be interesting.. i feel like if cho sam were cis it would actually invoke body image issues and dysphoria in chung myung, having been thrust into a body so unfamiliar & alien to him than the one he spent the most time living in and caring for.. i dont really think too much in depth about this tho so my thoughts on it are pretty vague.. is cho sam cis or trans? (shrugs) up to you!

ummm *scratches ass* i cant think of anything else to say.. trans chung myung is so awesomesauce and i love projecting my own transmasc wants and desires onto him and into a world that accepts and loves him for who he is.. i have more thoughts about his relationship w tang bo and the world around them and how they view him but those are a little more personal and nuanced so i wont get into all dat.... when rotmhs gets more popular i hope trans chung myung hc blows up cuz its sooo real... something something chung myungs reincarnation into cho sam is a trans allegory

[wild-karrde]

Hi Karrde! Congrats on the milestone! Quote ficlet: “Wait. What do you want me to do?!” & Wolffe 🤭

Thanks so much Kira! This one took a bit of a turn that was unexpected for me, but I kind of like how it turned out (and I really hope you do too!) Thanks again for the ask!

Rating: T

Warnings: language, mention of death/canon-typical violence

Word Count: 1.9k words

Wolffe lengthened his strides, trying to pick up his pace without looking rushed. His meetings with his general had normally taken place at the Coruscant base near the barracks, but for whatever reason, Plo Koon had insisted Wolffe meet him at the Jedi temple this time. And after getting turned around in the unfamiliar corridors and having to double back at least twice, Wolffe was running late. 

Wolffe hated being late. 

He rounded a final corner and fought the urge to sigh audibly with relief when he caught sight of the door the general had indicated in his directions. Wiping a little bit of sweat from his brow, he straightened his spine to attention and pressed the buzzer on the door panel. 

“Enter,” came the familiar baritone of Plo Koon from within.

Wolffe was surprised to find the door unlocked. He couldn’t think of a single door on base that wasn’t secured with the exception of maybe the refreshers, but even those were attached to the individual barracks, which required an access code. 

Must not be as concerned with security since damn near everyone here wields a lightsaber.

Stepping inside, he found the Kel Dor Jedi master kneeling in front of a low table. To Wolffe, it felt as though he had intruded on some private moment, and it made him sweat harder under his armor. 

“General, I apologize for my tardiness. If now is a bad time, I can come back later and –”

“Wolffe, you can set your helmet by the door. Please come sit down and have some tea with me.” 

The clone commander stumbled in his apology as the general’s words settled into his brain, and he uncharacteristically stuttered. “W-wait. What do you want me to do?”

The Kel Dor chuckled to himself, gesturing at a cushion next to him. “I’d like you to sit down and have some tea with me.” 

Wolffe stood still by the door awkwardly. “I still don’t understand, sir.” 

Plo Koon pushed himself to his feet, crossing the room and reaching out his hands for Wolffe’s helmet. “I find I’m more effective in my leadership when I have a good understanding of those I’m leading. Even more so if they are my friends. So I would like to be your friend, Wolffe. I understand that we have a power dynamic that makes this difficult, but I would like to try anyway. Is that alright?” 

Wolffe nodded slowly, his brain rushing to process what was happening. The general wanted to be his friend. He thought very highly of the general, but he’d never have thought to cross the line into ‘friendship’. Come to think of it, Wolffe wasn’t sure if he’d ever really had someone he called a 'friend'. He had Cody and Rex and Fox and Bly and the others, but they were brothers, and a brother was different. They were of course friends by definition, but it almost felt like the default, and very different from a friendship he would share with any other being. Only brothers understood what a brother went through, but maybe that was Plo’s point, his goal: to figure out what it was like to be Wolffe, to be a clone. To become his friend so as to better understand him. Wolffe did agree with the tactic; he found he was more effective as a commander when he understood the mental states and personalities of his men. As much as it felt like a violation of some sort of unwritten protocol, he relented, handing his helmet to his general and striding over to the cushion on the floor. 

Plo set his helmet on a table by the door, coming to sit across from him. He watched as Wolffe attempted to lower himself onto the cushion, trying to emulate the Jedi Master’s cross-legged seated position, but finding it difficult with his armor on. The Kel Dor chuckled again. “We are not currently under threat of attack, Commander. If it would be easier and more comfortable, you are welcome to take off some of your armor.” 

That felt too casual for Wolffe. “If it’s all the same to you, sir, I think I’d rather keep it on in case I get called away suddenly.” 

Plo nodded. “Very well. How do you take your tea?” 

Wolffe stared at him. “I’m not much of a tea drinker if I’m honest, sir. Normally all we have around is caf, and even then, it’s the type of stuff that would peel paint off a star cruiser.” 

The Kel Dor chuckled again. “I’ll keep that in mind for any future meetings. For now, let’s just see if you enjoy it the same way Master Kenobi does. He was the one that I first had this sort of tea with. I’ve been assured it’s not too abrasive to the human palette.” He sprinkled a little bit of sugar into the cup closest to Wolffe before reaching out and sliding a box that had been sitting on the table towards the clone commander. “I’ve also noted you have a bit of a sweet tooth. I hope these are to your liking.” 

Wolffe popped the box open hesitantly, and was immediately hit with the smell of warm butter and cinnamon. His mouth watered involuntarily as he stared down at the glazed sweet buns inside. 

“They smell amazing, sir. Where did you get them?”

“I’d heard it rumored that the 28th Combat Wing frequents a certain shop on one of the lower levels, so I made a point to stop by there. Getting their captain to disclose the location required me to promise not to reveal the location, not even under threat of torture.” Because of his mask and eye coverings, Kel Dors were somewhat limited in their expressions, but Wolffe suspected if Plo could have winked at him, he would have. That particular shop was indeed a well-kept secret, one that Wolffe had damn near promised his left kidney for, but he wasn’t surprised that the Jedi Master had gotten the secret out of Crater. The captain of the 28th had always been a good judge of character, and if you spent more than five minutes with Plo Koon, you likely would trust him with just about anything. 

A thought struck Wolffe. “Sir, are you even able to eat these?” 

The Kel Dor was carefully adding dried, purplish leaves into a teapot. “I could, but it wouldn’t necessarily be a pleasant sight for you. Due to my inability to breathe this atmosphere without my mask, eating for my species is a somewhat involved task, one that I’d rather not subject you to.” 

Wolffe nodded, trying not to let his mind wander towards any insensitive questions. He noted that there were two tea cups out, and he was debating whether to ask his next question, but the Jedi seemed to read his mind. “Luckily, when it comes to liquids, I do have an apparatus in my mask that allows me to ingest those with some ease.” 

“But won’t that still poison you? Sir?” Wolffe added hastily. “The oxygen in the water that is.”

Plo chuckled again. “It’s actually not usually a problem if I ingest something containing oxygen as long as the concentration isn’t above a certain threshold. The main issue is with my respiratory system, but my mask does contain a filtration system to keep me safe while drinking as well.” He pressed at a small place on the side of his mask, and a thin apparatus only a few centimeters in length protruded, seemingly some sort of straw. Wolffe nodded. 

“I suppose that makes sense.” 

Plo pulled the strainer containing the tea leaves from the tea pot, setting it aside and pouring the steaming magenta liquid into the two cups, sliding the one containing sugar towards Wolffe. 

“I sense you have other questions, Commander. Ones that aren’t about my anatomy.” 

Wolffe felt heat creep across his face. “Sorry,” he mumbled, hurriedly taking a sip of the tea. It was light and floral with just a hint of sweetness from the sugar. He deemed it pleasant, even if it did scald his tongue. 

“No need to apologize. I’m not necessarily a species one comes across outside of my homeworld,” the Jedi reassured him. 

Wolffe nodded, setting the tea down on the saucer and running his burned tongue across the roof of his mouth as he considered how to ask his next question. The Kel Dor watched him patiently. Finally, Wolffe gave up trying to beat around the bush. Subtlety and flowery language had never been his favored approach.

“Alright. Why do you suddenly want to be my friend, sir? Don’t get me wrong, I agree with your reasoning. It just seems that something spurred this on, and I’d like to know what changed in case I need to adjust accordingly.” 

He had a sneaking suspicion he knew what event had caused this sudden shift. The way his Jedi general stared out the window for a moment with a seemingly distant gaze all but confirmed it. 

“After what happened with the Malevolence, there was one particular moment I couldn’t get out of my mind. The violence and death disconcerted me of course, but it was a moment with your brothers while we were outside the pod. They told me they didn’t think anyone was coming because clones are meant to be expendable. And that is…unacceptable to me.” 

Wolffe nodded slowly, trying to keep his face neutral. His brothers had relayed the other side of the conversation to him, and quite frankly, the general’s emphatic response that they were not expendable in his mind was a moment that would live on in the Wolfpack’s minds forever. It had been the moment where Wolffe knew they’d gotten lucky, that their general cared about them, and that at the end of the day, they’d follow him anywhere because of that. 

Plo continued, “I want to ensure you never feel like that. I never want you to feel that I don’t care about your well-being, or that I see you as a weapon rather than a being worthy of empathy and compassion. So, I thought it was best that we come to understand each other, not just as general and commander, but as friends.” 

The two of them sat quietly for a moment, both sipping their tea. Finally, Plo spoke again. “I understand this is unorthodox. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable. If so, I sincerely apologize.” 

Wolffe bit into one of the buns, chewing contemplatively as he studied the Jedi Master before him. There was something about Plo Koon that always seemed to instantly disarm him, something that made him want to confide in the Jedi. He’d always been slow to trust anyone that wasn’t a brother, but the Kel Dor had never given him a reason to doubt his motives or question his intentions. He’d always been honest with Wolffe, even if he sensed he disagreed. In fact, he had welcomed any opposition to his line of thinking, occasionally changing course if Wolffe could provide reasoning to make him see things differently. And above all, he liked the Jedi, no matter how much he tried to keep the barrier between their roles a very clearly drawn line in the sand. He took another bite of the bun, and the buttery warmth soothed his scalded tongue. He smiled to himself. 

If Crater trusts him with the sweet shop, then you can trust him too. And you’ve always known that.

“With all due respect, sir, if you keep providing me with this quality of pastry, I don’t think I’ll have any choice but to be your friend.”

If Kel Dors could smile, he was certain Plo’s would have damn near swallowed his face. “Noted for our future teas together then, Commander.”

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[lake-archive]

Chapter 47 - A Howling Mission

AO3 Link

Characters: Annette 'Ann' Dorste-Hülshoff (OC), Osamu Dazai, Doppo Kunikida

Words: 1,600

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

Originally Ann had just been walking upstairs on Ole’s request. He had shown up inside the café in his humanoid form, holding his nose while having entered the café.

“Ann–Neesan, please take this upstairs. Dazai forgot his lunch again… That idiot.”

It was as if Ole was at the brink of death. He wasn't but a cat could not take the smell of coffee. So he wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible. So it was up to them to walk up to the fourth floor and deliver Dazai the lunch he forgot. Come to think of it when the cat boy said that he also pouted, perhaps offended that his self made lunch had been forgotten. Oh how cruel yet Ann would deliver it as a result. Even if the stairs were killing them again… Why was the office so high upstairs!? It was too exhausting! Sure the waiter job had a lower wage but at least it wasn't that high up. And walking upstairs while wearing that kimono made this even more unbearable… 

Either way, Ann made it upstairs within the next few minutes, their legs trembling slightly. They at least were still standing on their feet with those wooden sandals but it was still unbearable. Since when was the kimono so tight? Not like it mattered. Catch your breath and open the door. Or rather, they did yet as soon as they opened the door they heard the following.

“So what you’re trying to tell us is that a werewolf is on the loose?” A familiar voice echoed, one overly serious. This had gotten their attention pretty much right away and they just stood there, not moving an inch. And it seemed that no one had heard them enter yet. So all they did was just listen in. They probably shouldn’t have yet curiosity had gotten the better of them. Werewolf?

“You could say that, yes.” An unfamiliar sounding person spoke. They seemed to be on the older side… An older man and his voice was shaking. Or rather he was trying to speak, trying to get a word out But something made him just force the words right out of his mouth. “Or rather… It’s about to break loose. I don’t know or how long it can be kept concealed in this facility.”

“Facility? So you captured the werewolf already?” A third voice would chime in, unusually calm sounding. So calm that it left Ann speechless for a moment. Wait, was that– 

“You don’t understand boy! That thing has become a beast out of our control!” The old man would protest. 

“Out of your control? So this is technically a result of your doing?” A short yet straightforward and sharp question altogether May as well have stabbed the old guy while at it. 

A moment of silence, said silence being rather uncomfortable after a quick ‘tch’ echoed. “Listen, aren’t you lot supposed to take on requests which cannot be handled by the police? What’s it to you!?”

“Nothing I suppose.” The voice responded, cold yet relaxed all the same. “But I can’t help but wonder…”

“Oi Dazai! We can handle that later.” The other voice nearly hissed. 

“It’s a little bold for this old man to just run in here Kunikida–Kun. Don’t you think?”

“W… Well, yes but—”

“Maybe we should—”

“Let the chief handle him, yes.”

“What!?” The old man suddenly screamed, almost furious. “Do you two have any idea—”

“Calm down, we’re hearing you out old geezer.” Dazai said, suddenly sounding rather nonchalant about this. “But we can’t risk you making a run for it. You stink.”

Ann didn’t need to see what expression the old man made. He must be furious, judging from the growl they heard. Talk about going for a low blow right away but… The wording was odd, they could agree that much. And the reaction would suggest that this old guy was not good news. Whatever they were discussing, there was some foul play, wasn’t there? It was a little too suspicious and convenient. “You—”

“You just want us to clean up your mess, right? Do it yourself old geezer~”

“Dazai! That’s enough!” Kunikida interrupted quickly, though was it of use? He probably couldn’t risk it so he continued to speak. “Listen up, we can’t deny your request.I don’t think it would be denied from our boss. However, we’re not going to do this for your sake, got it?” Even someone like Kunikida was sounding a little furious, though he really tried to hold it in. 

“And here I thought one of you two youngsters were civilized…”

“Allow me to bring you to our boss first Sir. He will decided what to do with you. Dazai?”

“Do it yourself~” Was the only response however. Of course it was. “The couch’s too comfy to get up~”

“Why you…”

“Chop chop Kunikida–Kun~”

“Why am I still trying?” A defeated sigh, shortly after followed by footsteps. And needless to say… It sounded rather shady, yes. Someone showing up and talking about a werewolf attack… Ann couldn’t help but wonder about the possibility about it being a trap. What if this old man was a spy, sent to get rid of the agency? Wouldn’t be the first time. And besides, they were known to get themself in danger, one after the other. They were a capable bunch but the thought still made their stomach twist a little.

They weren’t close to everyone but this situation would mean that Dazai is still involved. A sudden werewolf attack? With the werewolf still contained at a location? Did someone want that members of the agency run into their doom? It was a little too convenient. Sure, they all could handle themself but… Ah, they didn’t know. Maybe they were overthinking this but it sounded too good to be true. Maybe… It’s none of their business in the end but—

“Ann–Chan, you can come out now~” Dazai’s voice suddenly called out, making them gasp and nearly drop the bento box… But just nearly. Their grip remained. They were found out, weren’t they? 

“P… Pardon the intrusion…” They nearly mumbled before taking a step inside finally, then up to where they heard the voice coming from… And spotting Dazai sitting there, coat off yet laying on the sofa now with a wide ass grin on his face. Talk about a mood change… He’s pretty good at that. “What are you doing?”

“Can you believe it? We just had to talk to the most exhausting client! I don’t think that I can work for the rest of the day~” The man said, almost whining yet sounding playful all the same. He wasn’t taking this seriously, was he? Or… No, he was probably pretending. That didn’t make it any less frustrating.

“Yeah, right…” They responded as they rolled their eyes, walking over to the table and placing down the bento box. “Here, Ole brought this over. You forgot your lunch again.”

“He did? So he does care about me~”

“You need to stop being so forgetful! Ole is putting all his effort into making these each morning now!” And that was true. When getting up one could spot the kitty in his human form usually, right at the kitchen counter and cooking up lunch for later. “Before he doesn’t make any more for you because you just keep leaving them at home anyways!”

“Yeees~”

“You’re not listening to a word I’m saying, do you?”

“No, I am.” He said, then suddenly sitting up and stretching. “Thanks for bringing it upstairs. I’ll thank Ole when I get home.”

Ann only shook their head. “You’re unbelievable sometimes…” And yet it had not exactly been over just yet. Because before knowing it they felt Dazai’s gaze on them, yet not the usual ‘up and down I’m checking you out today’ look. No. It was as if… He expected something? They didn’t know but it was a little unbearable, to say the least. There was a silence between the two. W… Wait… Did he–

“Is there something else you want to talk about?” He asked, for a second his voice having cracked into an awfully serious tone. It made them gasp for a moment, as if caught. But they shoved that thought quickly aside. No, he never said anything like that… They may as well just be overthinking it.

“N… No! Not at all!” Ann responded as they turned away quickly, no longer facing him in any way. And another moment of unbearable silence, though this time shorter than before. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Y… Yeah! I am! A… Anyways, I gotta get back to work! Tanabe–San is waiting for me downstairs!” Though that was an excuse. She wasn’t in a rush, the café wasn’t busy. But it was the only way to get out of there and not tell him anything. Had he suspected something? No, there just wasn’t no way… Right? They weren’t that worried! They can handle themselves just fine! Ann knew that! 

They didn’t want to think about it any longer however, just hurrying outside the flat used as an office. They didn’t even hear what Dazai said, or rather not everything. He mumbled something but they were too far to hear it. Only one last part: “If you say so! See you downstairs Ann–Chan~” 

Just pretend as if nothing happened… And yet… The thought of this conversation would not leave their head for the rest of the day either.

Maybe they should just sneak along? Not like it would matter. What’s the worst that could happen?

Previous Chapter - Masterlist - Next Chapter

[v-67]

Read Murderer Lewellyn's enchanting dinner invitation

And fuck.

I don't know how the author has this thing. This power. This way of making me feel so many things by imbibing and creating such an intricate plot, such intricate characters. Such emotions, such craving for emotions, such acknowledgement to ones you've never felt, such nostalgia for things you've never been through. You're within the story, so deeply. So fucking deeply. That you even feel like burning the world for such characters, for the pain they've felt, the things they've been through. It's just...so much. So much.

When I started reading this, it felt all complicated, i didn't want the main character to fall in love w a serial killer, i didn't want a character to be so dumb to fall in love w a killer. It was this gray area, an area where I judged Lewellyn, and as I judged him, I just wanted Shavonne to stay away. It made me look at myself in the light of how people treat people who are criminals, and it's an honest reaction, it's a reaction to be safe. I can't wait and fuck around to find out why he's killing people or who's he so particularly killing until I'm sure that he won't be killing me (Shavonne in this case)

But then, as the story starts to unravel, the way it unravels, it's so complex, the emotions and the trauma.

The way we get to understand Lewellyn, his actions, the reasons for him killing people. I cannot comprehend the amount of pain that kid went into, he was introduced in this world as a dog, and treated in such a cruel manner. Cruel isn't even the right word here, it was worse than cruel.

And when Shavonne meets him, and treats him w such kindness, he does not understand that. But he feels this sense of warmth, this energy which he describes so beautifully – It was a type of fire that didn't burn, it provided warmth, it was a type of heat I was unfamiliar with, I had no idea such a thing could exist. (The og dialogue is different, this is just me trying to recall the way I remember it)

But anyways, back here.

One of the most important points I took away from this story, which hit me so much, is the way a person can be brainwashed into thinking that something is normal when it's clearly not. And i think that can be one of the worse forms of torture to have someone go through. To change the nature of their understanding to such an extent. Go change a fact of the world to such an extent. To manipulate them into thinking what's happening to them is normal when it's clearly not. Fuck.

This was a great piece of work. The only part which I am a little question marky about is what exactly was it about lewellyn that the government wanted so much to treat him like that? What was this special condition he had?

It's cool even if I don't know.

Also another cool thing, in the end they show the names of their meaning. Shavonne means 'Grace of God', and Lewellyn means 'Leader of men'. And throughout the story Lewellyn, because of his eye color, is also compared/referred to being the devil – the devil has golden eyes. All this makes me curious about their names and the meanings the dynamic may share.

And the depiction of emotions, loneliness, family, warmth, love, mental distress, conscience. Wow. The depiction of the real world.

I'm sleepy to write more, but it was a beautiful manhwa. The way the words with the right plot and the heaviness of the situation, the words can make you feel so much.

Hats off to the author.

The dialogue where Lewellyn speaks about how if he was a human being..... Those 3 lines, they were so intense.

And the one about warmth.

Fuck.

I love reading content that explores psychological ways and things. The new perspectives, the way there's always going to be this one super simple yet such a profound and intense dialogue because of the gravitas of the situation it is placed at, which gets stuck with you.

It's beautiful. Words. And the way an author's mind works. The way they put so much thought and energy and bring these beautiful stories and characters to life. I love that. And I'm grateful for you all who do that. Thank you for bringing such beautiful tales, thank you for bringing the world and me a little warmth.

[kores-pomegranate]

So, I’m feeling Very Trans™️ tonight, and I realized I have never really written out my gender journey, or tried to put it all together chronologically. I think it would be nice to do that, so here we go.

I was in high school in the early 2000s in very rural Georgia. There weren’t any openly gay kids, let alone any openly trans kids. I can’t recall ever hearing the word nonbinary until after college.

Despite having no frame of reference or language for anything to do with gender, this is how I looked in high school.

I can remember getting tagged in that photo on MySpace and feeling what I can now identify as gender euphoria, but I didn’t have language for that. I just felt like I looked so *good,* but I couldn’t explain why I thought that. Now I’m like, hey bro you look pretty androgynous there, so maybe that was it.

I can remember begging my mom, from about 7th grade on, to let me cut my hair short. I cut out a photo of a very short pixie cut from a magazine that I kept as my inspo photo for like…five years? I had it stashed away in my box of keepsakes (I actually still have it) and I looked at it all the time. I just wanted to look like that model so bad and my mom was so firm on not letting me cut my hair that short. She was worried I would look like a boy, and I couldn’t understand that fear. My brain kept asking itself “who cares if I look like a boy? It doesn’t matter.”

She finally let me cut it the summer before my senior year of high school, and that is the first time I can remember feeling gender euphoria.

I loved how I looked and how it made me feel. My daily outfit of choice was usually “boy pants” and something very…gender neutral on top? I rarely wore dresses or anything hyper femme, but I never went hard in the other direction. It was all vibes, baybee.

I started growing my hair out when I started college. I went to an extremely small, extremely conservative Pentecostal college still located in rural Georgia, and there was a lot of unspoken expectation to be a “cool church girl.” For those unfamiliar, “cool church girls” were “edgy” because they had nose piercings and wore makeup and pants. They had “hippy vibes” while being hyper-religious. For the first time, I felt like I stuck out in a very bad way. Somehow, the gender expectations of my college were way worse than those from high school. So, I went in hard on that vibe, because I lost all sense of self.

These photos suck because it was the early 2000s and THAT’S JUST HOW IT WAS. In that particular picture I was also very much in the clutches of an eating disorder, so obviously there was a lot of self and body hatred happening in that person.

I got married the summer before my senior year of college. I was t w e n t y years old (it’s 9 and a half years later and I’m getting a divorce…soooo 😬). I was still so deeply immersed in this hyper feminine imagine of what a good Christian girl looked like. I was miserable for a lot of reasons, not just related to gender, but not unrelated either.

(That’s a candid of me like an hour before I was supposed to get married. Staring into the middle distance and dissociating a little 😅)

So, I got married, and then I thought, “okay, I did the thing, now I can go back to being this more comfortable and less feminine version of myself, because I successfully got the Ring Before Spring. No need to pretend any longer. So I chopped my hair off and instead of paying attention in class I fucker around with Snapchat filters and edited beards onto my face.

I remember my husband at the time messaging me after I posted that selfie on Facebook asking me to take it down because it “made him feel uneasy and uncomfortable” to see me looking like that, even if it was supposed to be “funny.”

That same year, for my big senior paper for my capstone class, I chose to write about why gender affirming medical care was the most compassionate and moral thing a Christian physician could ever offer to a patient. I was starting to wake up to issues of gender and sexuality insofar as how they related to larger society. As I learned about trans folks, I felt a deep yet confusing sense of empathy for how miserable it must feel to be in a body that doesn’t feel right, but to essentially have no medical options (especially at the time), to feel more affirmed in their gender.

I wrote that it is the responsibility of every physician to heal, and traced it back to the disciple Luke, who was often referred to in my school as “the first doctor.” I pulled out scripture references about the unrestricted love of god along with how preposterous it would be to deny care to someone who had a “more acceptable condition.” I think at the time I used cleft palate as an example. I wrote that it would be monstrous to deny reconstructive facial surgery to someone with cleft palate (if it was something they wanted), but if a trans woman wants facial reconstructive surgery in order to look more feminine, suddenly everyone has a huge problem.

At the time I still firmly identified as a cis woman, but it was while writing that paper that I remember having my first conscious thought about my gender. I thought to myself, “this…really all makes sense to me. Uh oh.” Then I shoved those thoughts and feelings into a box that I didn’t touch for almost a decade after that.

The next three pictures represent the “my egg is about to crack but it hasn’t yet” period of my journey. I went back to being hyper femme for a long time, and ended up with really long hair. I got pretty obsessed with makeup and makeup culture, and usually didn’t leave to do anything significant without a full beat. Eventually that waned, and I started to get this restless feeling that I sometimes got. I felt that I needed a change, because I wanted to look…more like myself? I just knew I wasn’t happy with the current state of things and something had to change. So I dyed my hair…a lot.

That felt good for a long time. But the restlessness returned in full force.

By that time, I had fully deconstructed Christianity and had been out of church and Christian culture for years. I had accepted my queerness and come out to most people, and was also practicing polyamory. I realized that so much about me had changed in a way that finally felt authentic, and yet. Something still felt like it wasn’t right yet.

I had gained a lot of language for gender expansiveness by then, and had a lot of experiences with being around trans folks, really for the first time in my life. Existing closely with people who threw all concept of gender out the window and reformed it into something that felt good to them made something click in me. Finally, f i n a l l y, it made sense to me. I wasn’t a girl, and I never had been. I wasn’t a boy either, and I didn’t want to be one, at least not in the stereotypical binary type of way.

I slowly started talking about maybe being non-binary to the people I was closest to, and while the first reaction was a solid dose of surprise, when they actually processed it 100% of the people I talked to said something to the effect of “oh that makes a lot of sense, actually.”

So here I am now, Very Nonbinary and very very very rarely femme. A lot of times I lean toward a trans-masc-ish identity or way of presenting, but it changes so much that a more specific label feels pointless.

I’m happy, finally. I don’t know where my gender journey will take me, but what I do know is that I fully have the freedom to go where I want and continue finding who I am, and that feels goddamn good.

Bonus for those who got to the end: me in the seventh grade dressed as Henry David Thoreau for, and I cannot emphasize this enough, *literally no reason.* there was not a school project or presentation, there was no assignment. I just wanted to do it, so I did it. The fact that I didn’t question my gender earlier frankly just confirms that I have always been the biggest thembo of them all.

[midnightshard06]

Flufftober Day 30

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50489362/chapters/129490627

Summary: Sonic meets Miles for the first time after the fox saves him. Sonic is happy to help him out in return.

Pairing: None

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~1350 words

AN: Based in the same au as these doodles from this post- https://www.tumblr.com/midnightshard06/730864248738217984/so-my-brain-decided-to-oh-so-helpfully-have-me?source=share

@flufftober

Sonic slowly peeled his eyes open. He felt tired and sort of sore. Where was he? He carefully pushed the blanket that had been draped over him aside. Clearly it was daytime due to him currently not being a werehog. Now his biggest question was, where was he?

The room he was in didn't look lived in really. There wasn't much in the way of personal items but he could tell that someone did in fact live here. The scent of someone else was all the proof he needed for that. There were some bandages wrapped around most of his body so he’d be willing to bet that whoever this was didn’t want him dead. Why waste the time to patch someone up if you were just going to kill them? Of course he felt like he was already healed up, but he’d leave the bandages on for now. Might be weird if he didn’t.

Deciding he wasn’t going to figure out anything by staying in the room he opened the door and poked his head out. His ears swiveled around trying to pick up any noise but he couldn’t hear anything. He frowned. Was whoever lived here out? That seemed irresponsable. He decided to slowly walk through the house. Maybe they were just somewhere he couldn’t hear them. He paused. Wait, why was he even here? He couldn’t really remember much from last night but surely something must have happened. Did whoever this was see him in his werehog form?

Shaking his head he decided to worry about that later. If this was going to become a problem he could easily run off. They probably wouldn’t be expecting him to be able to move around so soon. It was a nice little house he had to admit, and pretty neat too. If he had some permanent place he stayed he doubted it would stay this clean.

Suddenly he heard a noise and he spun around to where it came from. A young looking fox stared back at him, clearly surprised to see him. “You’re up already?” The fox asked.

“Uuuuh yeah?” Sonic answered. The two stared at each other in awkward silence for a bit. Sonic knew if he started talking it would just be a flood of questions.

“Do you… need anything? Water maybe?” The fox nervously messed with his gloves. Sonic just nodded and gave the kid a shaky smile. Where were his parents? Why would anyone leave their kid alone, especially with a stranger?

“Sooo I have to ask, where am I?” Sonic asked after the fox came back with a glass of water.

“My house. I brought you back here after I chased off those guys that were hurting you last night.” The fox looked down.

Sonic briefly choked on the water he was sipping. “U-uh last night? Like actually at night?” He gripped the cup tightly and had to mentally make sure to not use enough pressure to break it.

“Yeah?” The fox seemed confused for a moment before understanding passed over his face. “Oh! I uh did see your other form, but don’t worry!” He waved his hands in front of him. “I don’t mind, and I’m not going to tell anyone!”

Sonic supposed that was probably the truth. If he was scared of Sonic he wouldn’t be here right now. He relaxed his grip and nodded. “Right, ok. Cool.” He sighed and tried to remember what had happened. It started to come back slowly. Being chased by an angry group that had shown up not long after he’d transformed. Getting backed into a corner in the unfamiliar landscape. Not wanting to hurt them even as they attacked him. Then the same fox that was standing in front of him now coming to his rescue and somehow driving the group off. “Thank you.” Sonic supposed that was the bare minimum he owed the fox for saving him. He held out a hand. “Name’s Sonic by the way. How did you even know I was in trouble?”

The fox took the offered hand. “Miles Prower, and I may have been following you.” Miles rubbed the back of his head guiltily.

“So you… saw me transform?” Sonic wasn’t really mad he found, just curious.

“I did.” Miles nodded. “I saw you earlier when you came into town and you seemed so nice and cool. I don’t know…” He kicked the ground. “I just wanted to know what you were doing I guess.”

“Fair enough.” Sonic shrugged. “I feel like if I was in your shoes I’d do the same.”

“You’re not mad?” Miles looked up in surprise.

“Why would I be? You saved me dude! How could I be mad at the guy who saved me?” Sonic grinned. Shyly, Miles returned the grin. Before Sonic could ask something else he noticed something about Miles he hadn’t before. The fox had an extra tail. “Oh you have an extra tail?” Admittedly it was pretty hard to tell because of the way Miles was trying to curl the two tails together.

Sonic did not expect Miles to jump and suddenly look very, very afraid. He stood there dumbfounded for a moment, even looking behind him to see if someone or something else was there. There was nothing. He turned back to look at Miles. The fox’s eyes were still blown wide and he’d started shaking, his two tails were curled up even tighter around one another. Sonic frowned and suddenly it clicked. He immediately felt awful. Ok this was fine. He could fix this.

Slowly he put a hand on Miles’ shoulder. Predictably the fox flinched. “Hey it’s ok. I think it’s cool. The extra tail. Makes you unique.” Sonic gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Miles looked down and grabbed both his tails. “It makes me a target…”

Sonic hummed. “Well whoever’s been messing with you are just a bunch of jerks who don’t know what they’re talking about.”

Miles looked at him in shock. “B-but I’m different a freak I-” He paused as it sunk in who he was talking to.

“I know a thing or two about that Miles.” Sonic tapped him on the nose. “Take it from an expert, you're no freak. Those jerks have no idea what they’re talking about.”

Suddenly he had an armful of fox and he happily returned the sudden hug. “Thank you…” It was muffled but Sonic could still hear it.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry that you don’t hear enough people say that.” Sonic rubbed Miles’ back. Eventually Miles let go and gave Sonic a shaky smile. “Hey how bout this. What if I give you a nickname?” Sonic gave Miles a wide grin.

“A nickname?” Miles tilted his head.

“Yeah! I have a feeling I’ll be sticking around a lot and while Miles iiiis a pretty cool name I have an idea for something I think would fit you.” Sonic winked. Miles nodded excitedly. “How about I call you Tails? Cause of how cool yours are.”

Tails gave him a big smile. “I love it.”

Tails was way happier these days and he had a certain hedgehog to thank for that. While he wished he could see his best friend more often he also understood Sonic’s need to roam. Though just because the hedgehog wasn’t here didn’t mean that Tails was unhappy. Ever since meeting Sonic he’d felt the best about himself that he ever had. Things finally felt right. He felt happy to be who he was. Eyeing something on a higher shelf in his workshop he spun his tails to get up high enough to reach it. Yeah Sonic had finally gotten him to see that even if you were born different from others and even if others might think you’re dangerous because of it, that didn’t matter. What mattered was what you made of it, what you did with what you were given.

Sonic arguably had it far worse than Tails and he seemed so happy. Therefore Tails found he could be too. He was so happy to have found Sonic that night. He wouldn’t trade his best friend for the world.

[kiisaes]

What’s your thoughts on tracing as a way to learn to draw? I’m a total beginner artist/digital artist. Lvl 0. I started a few months ago with procreate on an iPad and I’ve gotten good pointers on procreate and what’s a good DPI and whatnot. i can see a little progress when it comes to the layers and and blending with other brushes besides the smudge tool haha

But I’m still unsure of how to get better at proportions and expressions and pretty much everything when it comes to the line work. I know practice is the ultimate tool to get better, and I’ve tried to use the typical reference to look at but I struggle hard with proportions and keeping the face semi symmetrical and it comes out all wonky. I’ve always been under the impression tracing is like taboo (outside of hands, I think most agree that hands suck) but is it okay to do as practice?

not sure if this is a hot take or a cold take bc artists can't seem to agree on if tracing is ok or not, but i think it's fine to do as practice!

lots of either young or insecure artists think that tracing is bad, and i kind of get it - it's not art we made on our own and we relied a lot on someone else's existing lines. to many, it feels like cheating. i thought that way too! but the older i got and the more i heard from experienced artists, the more i realized that tracing can be really beneficial!!! sure you're not making your own lines from your own imagination/studying references, but you're still drawing the lines. it helps you get used to shapes and figures, and it familiarizes your hand so drawing things like faces or muscles — pretty difficult things to draw without help — don't feel as unfamiliar anymore.

believe it or not, your hand will remember movements the more you do them. it's more or less muscle memory. if you trace a pose or a hand or something, your hand will become more accustomed to drawing those things. obviously i recommend you use studies more so your eyes can also train themselves to work with your hands, but i understand that drawing off of references is way harder than tracing from references. if you're a total beginner, there's nothing wrong with tracing photos of models or w/e just to get a basic feel

i do draw the line at tracing other artist's work and passing it off as your own, though. nothing wrong with studying an artist's style, that's really useful towards developing your own style. but if your lines perfectly overlap another artist's piece, then you didn't do any of that hard work yourself. not only is it disrespectful as hell towards the original artist, who poured their sweat and tears into that drawing you just doodled over, but you also didn't really grow from it.

i have seen professional artists trace and replicate other artists' works, but it's either paying purposeful homage to the original, or was done to study the style and methods used to create that final product. normally you can tell when an artist traces for their own artistic improvement and understanding, and when they're tracing just to be lazy, rude, and profit undeservingly. generally a rule of thumb is if you trace from a different artist, you don't post it online or sell it anywhere. and ofc you always want to respect the og artist's wishes, so if they don't want anyone to trace their work, you probably shouldn't, even if it's just for practice. there's lots of other resources you can use on the internet!

TL;DR: tracing is a-ok from a practicing standpoint!!! but don't trace other artists' works, take full credit for it, and post them online!!!

[wilmakins]

shipper communities would be more tolerable if their ships somewhat speculative but instead they like gravitating to 2 (white) characters who hate each other's guts, constantly fight, even attempt to kill each other in every iteration and continuity (successfully on multiple occasions) but since ppl are convinced that discord/anger(or even hatred) btwn men is gay love that they'll "i need a fic/art" their way into replacing the guys' actual friends in their solo projects w the guy they hate

So, I’m going to try and answer this as best I can, but I should probably start with the disclaimer that I’m a really bad person to ask about ‘the shipping community’ in general. And I don’t just mean because you can’t really ask any one person for an overview of a community that big – I mean I would be a particularly bad person to ask. As you can probably tell from my blog, my Tumblr and Twitter are basically handled by the queue. I’m off the internet for days at a time, and then tend to catch up randomly in bursts. I have a very low follower/reader count, I’m not known in the community, I interact with very few people and at irregular intervals. As such, I frequently miss trends or dramas, I’m often unfamiliar with the terms or names being used, and I acknowledge that I simply don’t have enough – or wide enough – experience, to speak to overall trends in fandom.

This is not me saying those wider trends do not exist, or that they shouldn’t be discussed – I’m simply being honest that I’m not best placed to comment on ‘fandom’ as a whole, and I can therefore only answer from my own personal experience and perspective. I accept that my own experience might not be in any way representative of anything.

However, in my own personal experience, fandom is a bit like a massive toy box in a communal play room. It’s filled with dolls, and action figures, and stuffed animals, and bricks-

And, of course, the kids in that play room don’t need any of that.

They’re more than capable of coming up with entire fantasy worlds in their heads – hell, they’ll still be imagining most of their make-believe world, when they do reach for a toy to add to it. And yet they do reach for toys to include in their make-believe worlds – and, if those aren’t available, they’re use ornaments, rocks, sticks, whatever – because that helps make the imaginary world fun, and accessible. And it’s even more fun, if you can find a friend to share that imaginary world and play with you.

And, of course, the toys in that box have specific forms – that’s what make them fun in the first place. The fact that they look like a soldier or a bride or an elephant or a cash register, or whatever prop you want to add to your story, is part of why it’s more fun to play with the doll than a brick.

But little kids know that those forms aren’t prescriptive. They understand that these are just aids to imagination and fun and connection, and there isn’t really a ‘wrong’ way to see them-

Some kids go through the box looking for inspiration, and end up playing a game about flying elephants because they liked the stuffed elephant they just found.

Some kids are just massively into dinosaurs, and they’re going through that box looking for a prop to use in that game – and, voila, the stuffed elephant becomes a woolly mammoth. And there’s a reason that kid picks the elephant and not the cash register to be the woolly mammoth, and hey, if it works for them, then they’re using the elephant right.

Of course, there are some kids who decide that the plastic pear is a hand grenade and the GI Joe is a Starbucks and the stuffed elephant is a fruit bowl – and, shine on you crazy diamond. Enjoy your game.

And, yes, sometimes you’ll get a kid try to join the dinosaur game, and get upset because that’s not a woolly mammoth, and they don’t like the imaginary world being built here… and that’s usually fine. They go and join the flying elephant game, and leave the dinosaur kids to their woolly mammoth game, and in both cases it’s just nice that these kids got to share their daydreams and have fun together. Sometimes a kid is quite happy playing pear grenade on their own, and that’s okay too.

…And, yes, sometimes one kid will whack another kid over the head with a plastic guitar, and the other kid gets hurt… And yeah, that needs addressing. Just because imaginative play isn’t a bad or unhealthy thing in and of itself, that doesn’t make it a magical bubble where harmful behaviour doesn’t matter and you can do whatever the hell you want without thought.

And, yes, there is a value to looking at the general trends in the games children play, and asking what biases they may be displaying, and where those come from – and you can do that without spoiling anyone’s game. If, one day, I have a little girl who loves Princesses, and turns every doll and stuffed animal into a Princess so that they can play their favourite game, I’m not going to see any problem in her indulging her imagination however she likes. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with her liking Princess games, per say. I am, however, going to ask myself what sort of female heroes I’m exposing her to, if I’m exposing her to a wide enough range of female stories, if we need to have a conversation about how monarchy works in real life, etc. My point is that the two things are not mutually exclusive. You don’t have to deny yourself your interests or judge yourself for having them in order to be reflective of them.

And, in case you’re wondering where I’m going with this, fandom is an awful lot like that toybox.

Our favourite media provide us with a cast of characters and a range of scenarios, all with existing forms and backstories. And we, as fans, pick through that box of toys for the ones that best fit our daydreams-

And everyone does that. Not just in fandom.

We all indulge in mindless, happy daydreams on occasion – whether it’s of a handsome prince rescuing a princess, or scoring the winning goal at the world cup, or winning the X Factor, or telling your boss to fuck off – and we all make use of existing motifs to make those daydreams.

It’s just that people in fandom are playing their game with a friend.

Now, even without knowing much about fandom at large, I can assume that people will all have different reasons for picking different toys – and that they’ll all choose to do something different with the toys they choose.

Some people will watch the show and be inspired, creating new worlds out of the characters as they exist on the screen.

Some people will come to that toy box with a specific interest in mind. They’ll be looking for the characters that best fit their favourite type of story/best fit their personal kink/best reflect how they see themselves and their struggles/best demonstrate a particular point they’re trying to make to the world – and a thousand other things, I’m sure. They’ll find the characters that best fit what they’re looking for, and let their imagination do the rest. If you’re a fan of childhood sweetheart narratives or war time romances or the concept of soul mates, you can pick Steve Rogers out of the box, pair him with Peggy, and use all that existing characterisation and backstory to build your perfect story – ignoring or rewriting parts of the canon if you want to, the way a kid rewrites a stuffed cat into a lion. Close enough. If you prefer to examine conflict or you’re turned on by the seemingly transgressive nature of kissing someone who tried to kill you, you can take that same Steve Rogers character and pair him with Loki, or Zemo, or the Red Skull – and it doesn’t really matter whether that would’ve been a terrible plot line in the actual movie, because this is your story your telling. You’re just using an action figure to tell it with friends. If you really identify with Gamora and you really want to get railed by Steve Rogers, you can write that story – it doesn’t matter that they never actually met on screen. You’re writing the story of how they met. And, maybe, getting to share it with others who want to play the game with you.

In terms of why *I* ship the characters that I do – which, as I say, is all I can really speak to – I can say, for a start, that I don’t have many ships to reflect on. I am a hyper fixator (understatement) and when I get my hooks into a ship I will focus on that, and only that, for years at a time. When I say that Steve/Tony is my only interest… I really mean that canon analysis of CACW is my only interest, and I genuinely have written the same fix it fic like nine times now.

So, the full list, from age 13 until now is – Buffy/Spike (Buffy the Vampire Slayer) Doctor/Rose (Doctor Who), Doctor/Master (Doctor Who), Steve/Tony (MCU)

Obviously, these are not all M/M ships – but I acknowledge that they are all ships involving white characters and there are no F/F ships. I happen to agree that this is the sort of thing we should all take the time to reflect on, and I don’t think that asking myself those questions means that I can’t continue to enjoy my ship. It might mean changing things about the way I engage with that ship – but only if that self-reflection leads to the realisation that I’m doing something harmful, or averse to my actual values, in which case I’d rather work it out and stop doing it.  And, to be honest, I don’t think a rundown of my reflections on this issue is really an answer to the main point of your post, and I’m really not an expert in these issues, and I doubt anyone is much interested in a snapshot of my personal musings – and this is already far too long. So, I won’t go into a side ramble about all my thoughts on that-

I will say, however, that I don’t want to be doing or saying things that are harmful, and that if you or anyone else wants to raise these issues with me, my inbox is always open, and I’m happy to have that conversation in whatever format you’re most comfortable with. As it happens, I’m open to all kinds of constructive criticism on my work (so you’re also welcome to let me know if you just think the writing sucks), but I think its especially important to be open to feedback of this kind. If, for example, you believe that *I* have ever unfairly side-lined a canon character in the interest of the romance plot, I would be grateful to hear your comments – that’s not something I’m trying to do with my work, and I’d only be happy to learn better how to avoid that.

However, getting back to what I think is the main point of your post – why the enemies to lovers? And yes, with the exception of a brief dalliance with Doctor/Rose, that is what all my ships have in common – because that *is* what I’m into. That’s the game I have in mind when I go to the toy box – it’s the reason those particular action figures are going to grab my attention first. And I’m sure that the many fans of enemies to lovers have different reasons for liking that trope, and for the ways they like to see it unfold – I can’t speak to that. I can only say that, for *me*, it’s an interest in examining conflict. I like unpicking arguments, looking at the points from different perspectives, asking myself what would have changed if different things had happened, asking myself what it would take to fix it… To be honest, I’m not a hugely imaginative person. You don’t see me constructing elaborate AUs or detailed fantasies. My fics are mostly media analysis essays disguised as stories, or thought experiments using Marvel examples. Half of my fics are rated T or G, and even the E rated ones are usually 100k words of introspection and then a very vanilla sex scene. The reason *I* gravitated towards Steve/Tony is because it’s a pairing with a lot of canon material to explore, and a reasonably vague central argument that can twist into lots of different ideas…

There’s a reason I don’t have a massive readership, to be honest.

Well, a few reasons, one of which is – as you can see – I ramble. But this is the answer to your question, or as best I can offer right now

Of course, if you’d like to continue the discussion, then feel free to message again. 

[lured-into-wonderland]

Perhaps he had indulged himself a little too much at the dinner, or that the drive back to the hotel had been relaxing, or maybe it were something else that had happened on their night out, but Luzio seemed to be more pleasant mood than usual. It would be hard to tell for those unfamiliar to him, but his more laid back posture and small shine in his eyes were the only real giveaways to what he was feeling.

So, when Nunnally had once more made a joke (or a tease? He still couldn't really figure out some of the meaning behind her sentences sometimes), he had decided to play along with her words. After the suggestion of ending their night in perhaps a romantic way, as if it were the moment before the magic ran out, the taller man leant down, placing a chaste kiss upon her cheek before adjusting his posture once more, lazily smiling down at her. "Just like those fairy tales?"

It was a lovely outing. Nunnally was happy and relaxed; she was not stressed around Luzio anymore, and - perhaps more importantly - she came to agreement with Luzio not always understanding her words. Being weird (or rather speaking weird things) was a part of her, and it seemed that Luzio could (and actually did) accept her just as she was.

Nunnally was naïve, Nunnally was romantic, Nunnally had a crush on Luzio (even if she was not always aware she had it). The evening was so perfect; they visited the new place but didn't expect what had awaited them. The candles on the tables and the romantic music. A wonderful pianist playing all the most famous love pieces. It was almost like a date for Nunnally (though she knew it was not; she still thought about Luzio as more of a friend).

So, when they were driving back, she didn't want the evening to finish. Not just yet. She joked about the romantic ending; Nunnally didn't expect Luzio to comply with her suggestion (she rather anticipated a dismissive remark), so when the tall man leaned down and placed a kiss on her cheek, it made her freeze in place; surprised. Puzzled even. It seemed that for once Nunnally was lost with no words. She did not know what to say (or what to do).

But it was not long before her body relaxed and a happy smile adorned her lips. After all she received what she was asking for.

“That’s a perfect ending of the night…” – she commented, although she stopped in the middle; realizing she did not want this outing to finish. Especially not n o w. It was pretty late, but not that late that they could not take a small stroll around the city. She took his shoulder gently to find herself even closer to him: --

“Luzio…” – she whispered – “I don’t want to part. Not just yet…” – her voice was not playful; in a way it was serious with not-so-well hidden hint of pleading in it – “Let’s…” – no, she didn’t know what she really wanted to do. Or rather she knew exactly, but it wasn't something she'd simply do. She shivered slightly, and then turned around to find Luzio’s eyes.

“Luzio…”

“I want to return your kiss…”

“May… Would you mind if I did?”

@suizokukans

[onetwistedmiracle]

content warning: Auschwitz, Shoah, subject of WP article survived the Holocaust

She survived Auschwitz. Now she’s teaching Gen Z about it — on TikTok.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-apps/imrs.php?src=https://s3.amazonaws.com/arc-authors/washpost/c735a7bb-d04e-404a-9f73-82314e1e810b.png&w=196&h=196

By Marisa Iati

March 29, 2023 at 9:17 p.m. EDT

Viewers frequently flood Tova Friedman’s TikTok account with probing questions: Why didn’t she try to escape from Auschwitz? Could she hear people screaming from the gas chambers? Were there any times when she almost died but got a second chance?

With the help of her 17-year-old grandson, the 84-year-old tries to convey the grim reality of Auschwitz, a Nazi death camp in Poland, while avoiding graphic language that might scare her young viewers.

“I don’t want to turn them off, so I have to be careful a little bit how to do it,” Friedman said. “I’m very careful in choosing my vocabulary.”

Nearly 500,000 people have subscribed to Friedman’s TikTok account, previously reported by NorthJersey.com, since she and her grandson, Aron Goodman, launched the page in fall 2021. They said they’re trying to counter online Holocaust denial and misinformation by sharing Friedman’s firsthand experience — ensuring that the truth lives on, even with antisemitic views widespread in the United States.

“I have a terrific obligation to speak,” Friedman said in an interview. “I don’t have survivor’s guilt, but I have survivor’s obligation, so that I speak to remember.”

Born in Poland on the cusp of World War II, Friedman was forced by Nazis first into a Jewish ghetto and then into Auschwitz. At age 6, she was released from a gas chamber for reasons she still does not know. She once hid next to a still-warm corpse to evade Nazis gathering prisoners for a death march, according to her memoir, and she eventually gained her freedom when Auschwitz was liberated in 1945.

In most of her TikTok videos, Friedman perches on a couch at Aron’s home in Morristown, N.J., and speaks directly to the camera. She also invites her audience into various other settings, including a radio recording studio and a float in a pro-Israel parade.

One post shows Friedman holding up her sleeve as the camera zooms in on the Auschwitz identification number tattooed on her forearm: A-27633. In another video, Friedman holds up the Red Cross card that she used to travel after the Holocaust ended.

TikTok not long ago was totally unfamiliar to Friedman, who initially thought Aron was saying “Tic Tac.” Aron said he recently had to explain to her why they can’t edit a live video like they do to other posts.

But Friedman said her grandson has made adjusting to the platform as painless as possible. He coaches her to make the most of the videos’ short time frame and edits the posts afterward. When she feels uncomfortable while recording, they stop.

Aron also shields Friedman from the antisemitic remarks that their account sometimes receives and said he tries not to dwell on them himself.While much of TikTok’s content is positive, antisemitic extremists have sometimes co-opted the platform to spread hateful content and conspiracy theories, according to the Anti-Defamation League.

“Those give me fuel to try to continue this work,” Aron said. “For the most part, I think about the positive impact we have,” including a message from a teacher in India who wanted to use some of the account’s material for her class.

Holocaust education in Aron’s own classes has been limited, he said. While TikTok videos can’t replace widespread lessons in schools, Aron said he hopes his account will inspire young people to learn further on their own. Friedman, who works as a therapist,also speaks frequently to students and other groups.

All of it, she said, is meant to make people understand the perils of unbridled loathing.

“It’s a warning to be careful with the hatred that you feel about somebody or something,” Friedman said. “It’s okay to feel dislike. … But it’s a different thing to act on it.”

While Aron and Friedman try to expand their content to Instagram and other platforms, they’re also figuring out the future of the “TovaTok” account. Aron is set to leave New Jersey for college in St. Louis this fall, and he’s unsure what that means for the project. He might expand the account to include interviews with other Holocaust survivors, he said, or make videos with his grandmother over FaceTime.

Friedman, for her part, isn’t ready to throw in the towel on their TikTok page.

“I just want to speak as long as I can and reach as many people as is possible as long as I’m alive,” she said.

[frumentariae]

could you talk a little bit on the evolution of lilith’s (iirc bea and skwisgaar’s daughter) relationship w her father?

Of course! Sorry it took me a hot minute to respond to this, school's been a lot ^^;;

Lili and Skwisgaar have a really...dicey relationship, especially towards the start. She didn't meet Skwisgaar until she was ~10 or so, and had been raised entirely by Magnus up until that point, with the vague awareness that her birth father didn't want her. As far as she knew, her other bio parent was some selfish rich guy who didn't want kids and had a bunch of other unwanted children.

When Bea and Skwisgaar get back together after Bea leaves Magnus, Lili doesn't fully understand what's going on, despite her being a pretty clever and precocious kid--I think she'd have an awareness that Magnus is mentally ill and struggles with his disorder(s), and I think she'd be very scared for him. She would also know that he's been pretty unstable and it's in her best interest to leave with her mom.

Those are the conditions she meets Skwisgaar under. And things are really, really awkward between them for awhile, I think. She misses her dad, and Skwisgaar is a stranger for all intents and purposes. His house is huge, weird, and all the people who are around him are weird, everything is unfamiliar, and she's got big feelings about it all. She's alienated. I can totally see her having a bit of an emo phase in regards to all of this.

Skwisgaar's references for parenthood aren't great, obviously, I think he had to deal with a lot of neglect growing up. At the very least, though, he would have recently experienced a positive relationship with a father figure in Týr. I think it would be probably their mutual interest in guitar and music that might draw them together, and what Skwisgaar would extend as an olive branch. He may not be the parent she wants, but he could well have an awareness that he can break the cycle and at least try.

(I'm absolutely 100% certain he has fuck-ups, but he's Trying™)

I'm not sure they'd be overly close by the time DSR rolls around, probably just starting to have a better relationship. I like to think (like most of us) that Magnus survives somehow. If he starts working with Dethklok, Lili would be VERY keen on spending time with them, and I could see there being a bit of a lull and even some jealousy in the budding parent/child affection between her and Skwisgaar. And it's hard! Because Magnus knows her so well, and Skwis is just...really out of touch. What do little girls even like doing? She likes guitars and playing fast, but that's not all, and the actual parenting stuff is hard and it's even harder to hold a candle to the man that's raised her from infancy with so much love.

Magnus would likely have to be the one to give him pointers, and I think with time, they'd start to work something out. But like anything, there would be ups and downs, and Skwisgaar would have to work very hard to get Lili's love and respect.

Eventually, as an adult, I very much see Lili loving Skwisgaar as her parent, but not necessarily looking to him as any sort of authority (If that makes sense?).

If anything, she likes to challenge and undermine him, and very much looks to replace him as "World's Fastest Guitarist."

Skwisgaar, for his part, might harbor a little bit of guilt for essentially becoming his mother. I think he'd try his best, what ever that might look like.

[wintergojo]

hi hii i just want to say that i absolutely love your gojo!dad stories they are all very very delightful to read and brings me soooo mucu serotonin omg bless your soul for making those <33 and if its not too much and youre not busy can you do onw for toge? if you can’t that’s totally fine your gojo fics are already a blessing :D

hiiii!! i'm sorry this response took too long. and thank u for your words!! it makes me so happy that u love gojo w/ a son (i love them too 🤧) bless ur whole being for being so sweet 😚 but i’m sorry this is a babysitter toge. i just can't imagine/write him as a dad 😭😭

a little fun fact: when i started watching jjk, i told myself i definitely wasn’t going to simp for gojo (and i thought i’d succeed bcos i immediately liked toge than gojo) and look where i am now 🥲

i would also like to note that i based what toge says here

navi

when gojo told him he was asking toge a favor, he thought his teacher would give him some sort of mission he was too busy to do, or ask him to help train the first years.

inumaki never expected for the tall sorcerer to ask him to babysit his child because no one else was available; the toddler’s mother was called for an investigation with nanami, principal yaga was in kyoto for a meeting, ieiri went with him to tend to a seriously injured third year, maki and panda are both on a mission, and the first years are on a different separate mission.

he started to think gojo orchestrated this whole thing for him to be the only one remaining in the campus, but he couldn’t think of any motive.

“behave and listen to nii-chan. alright, dumpling?” the teacher gave his child a peck on the forehead before standing up from his crouching position and facing inumaki. he then tapped the younger sorcerer’s shoulder and flashed him a grin.

"i'm counting on you, toge! i'll be back in the evening!"

he didn’t even allow the purple-eyed teen to respond before disappearing into thin air, leaving toge alone with a two and a half year old boy.

he looked down at the bag his right hand holds which, according to the man who disappeared, consisted of his son’s three extra change of clothes, sippy cup, and a whole load of toys. he then looked down at the white-haired toddler holding his left hand, who he found was already staring at him with his blue doe eyes. seishiro gave him a sheepish smile similar to his father as he raised his short arms at him.

"twooge, cawwy!"

now, inumaki wasn’t unfamiliar with the cute little boy. he met seishiro when the child was still a few months old and he had interacted a lot of times with the toddler. and because they both had limited vocabulary, they played a lot and got along well. he’s sure the child also learned to love pulling pranks because of him.

however, he was completely unfamiliar with taking care of seishiro (or any other children) because gojo-sensei and his wife were always there whenever he saw the child. so while carrying the happy baby in his right arm who was singing gibberish about onigiri ingredients, he managed to get his phone from his pocket and ask someone he knew was available for help—you, a.k.a. ieiri’s apprentice that’s the same age as him but isn’t his classmate because you prefer to be in a normal high school, and the only person other than him who is at the school because you were filling in for your teacher, and his childhood friend who understands his language just as much as (maybe even more than) panda does.

and now look what’s happening, you were gone for a few minutes and inumaki already lost the toddler.

"toge, where's seishiro?!" you hastily ask, eyes and head darting frantically around the greenery of jujutsu tech.

you're panicking, which also made inumaki start to panic.

"ikura!" he responded too vigorously accompanied by a way too aggressive shake of his head.

"what do you mean you don't know?! weren't you playing hide and seek with him?"

"shake!"

you started walking up the stairs leading to a nearby forest, whipping your head around in search for a tint of white fluffy hair. you left the two of them alone after eating lunch in the training grounds when you went to get the toddler an extra shirt in inumaki’s dorm, and by that time seishiro’s hiding places were where the two of you could still easily find him.

behind you, inumaki is walking backwards while muttering “sujiko…” “sujiko!!” “sujiko?” on what you know is finding and calling for the little toddler in his own way.

“we need to find him soon. didn’t you say gojo-sensei told you seishiro naps an hour or two after his lunch?” the two of you were nearing the entrance of the wide forest, and frankly you were starting to get worried you wouldn’t be able to find the little boy you just met in this vast location. you know there would be no curses because of master tengen’s barrier but still, better to be safe than sorry.

when you heard no onigiri ingredient uttered or even a hum, you turned around and frowned when you were greeted by the sight of only tall trees surrounding you. your shoulders droop as you let out a long sigh. great. now both of them are gone.

you were about to turn back around and continue searching for your friend’s teacher’s son (because toge can take care of himself) when you heard the other missing man’s “tuna tuna!” coming from your right.

you whip your head in the direction and see the cursed speech user looking at you with pleading eyes while holding the missing toddler, whose little sniffles are slowly starting to reach your ears as the two of them walk towards you.

looking closer, seishiro's face is buried in toge's collar which you're probably sure is now wet with snot and tears. and your friend is comically running his hands up and down the boy's back to calm him down.

"where did you find him?" you ask when toge starts handing you the baby. he pointed twice behind him using his thumb, uttering "mentaiko" when you were finally holding seishiro.

you turned your attention back to the child, wiping his tears from his chubby cheeks. "poor baby, are you okay?" 

seishiro's sobs turn into hysterical cries as he buries his face now on your neck, and you instantly regret asking the question. you remember from your past conversations that toge mentioned the little boy doesn't cry a lot, so it's a wonder he's crying so much right now. he must've been so scared, you think. 

toge was watching both of you the whole time, and at some point he even thought of using his technique to make his teacher's son fall asleep, but even he knows that's wrong (and he'd get the scolding of his life from you if he did that).

so he makes his way beside you, pulls something out of his pocket, ruffles seishiro's hair to make him look at the off-white haired teen, and waves his phone in front of both of you before fiddling with it. you were about to ask him how the gadget would help soothe the toddler, when you suddenly heard a loud fart noise come from toge's direction.

seishiro started giggling and asked "more, twooge!" causing toge's eyes to crinkle underneath his bangs as he plays the godforsaken sound on his phone repeatedly.

at that point the toddler had completely forgotten about his earlier demise as evidenced by his uncontrollable laughter and flailing around while holding the phone bigger than his hand.

he kept pressing the button over and over again, sometimes even attempting to recreate the sound with his little lips. you wanted to facepalm internally, but seeing both of them having so much fun and eyes crinkling so hard, you couldn't help but share their laughter as the three of you started heading back into the dorms, hand in hand with toge as he carries seishiro in his arms.

ps. i actually thought about what it would be like if toge had a toddler that also has cursed speech. and i just can imagine the two of them talking w/ random ingredients like the bby’s gonna say “papa, tuna?” and inumaki would be like “sujiko?” then they’re gonna have a full conversation consisting of “tuna mayo!” “shake shake” “ikuraaa?” and the mom is just looking at them like “??”

although gege did say the inumakis communicate with their heart so… they may just be like this