#i feel like i should have a specific tag for this at this point

[jordiemeow]

summary: when anakin gets denied the rank of master, he's overwrought with tension. no better way to deal with it than sneaking out to visit his favourite girl at his favourite brothel on the lower levels of coruscant.

warnings: smut 18+, face-sitting, mild sub!anakin, reader is a prostitute, brief comfort ending in f!receiving oral, anakin is a giver!! cathartic head-giving

notes: in honour of may the fourth! need to remake my taglist for specific fandoms so not tagging anyone here. not my usual audience so if this flops idc but anakin has been on my mind a lot recently (when is he not). anyways happy star wars day :)

"It's... it's a joke, is what it is. And he didn't stick up for me. Not once. What an excuse for a mentor if he's just going to—"

You're not listening at this point. Head tilted, lips slick with red paint, body on display. It's a shame the sheer two-piece is going to waste on a Jedi rambling on about how betrayed he feels by the Order. It's also terribly hard to listen to said 'betrayal' when his robes and tunic have been shrugged off to leave him in just his pants, defined muscles rippling under the dim light of your private room.

Something about feeling too restricted. You'd laughed and said the removal of clothes was pretty typical in this establishment, but your attempts at levity proved futile. Fast forward to now...

"—And don't even get me started on Master Windu." (You weren't going to.) "How can he look me in the eyes and tell me that? Like I don't deserve it for all the work I've done for them. Risked my lives countless times. Saved millions—no, dare I say billions—and this is the thanks I get!"

Billions? You aren't so sure about that. You keep the comment to yourself—maybe he's right. You don't ask him for information; it's always willingly passed on. He could be the most decorated Jedi in the Order after this war and you would be none the wiser.

He paces back and forth restlessly, hands tightened into fits and jaw taut with tension. You'd almost be a little frightened if most of your visits from him didn't start with some sort of temper tantrum. All this just for you to soothe him into bed and make him forget.

"Ridiculous," he spits as you watch on plaintively. It's like spectating a meltdown, you can't help but think. You're surprised he hasn't thrown something yet. Destruction is always a symptom of his annoyance. You wonder briefly if his room back at the Temple is in disarray. "And then Obi-Wan has the audacity to ask me to—"

You cross the room to reach him just in time to stop him from saying something he absolutely should not be telling a prostitute. You know half the Jedi Order's secrets by now from his visits. A hand rests upon his left arm, the one made of human flesh. Gentle, tentative, like you're trying not to scare off a frightened animal. He almost jerks it back, but his eyes soften when you speak.

"Ani," you croon gently. The nickname makes the tension in his shoulders ease. "Just come to bed. You're getting yourself all worked up."

He sighs. He knows you're right. But he's stubborn on a good day, and today is not one of those.

"You don't understand. They're treating me like I'm less than them just because the Chancellor recommended me. Like I haven't done everything to prove I'm more than just a Knight before he got involved."

"You aren't less than them just because they go around calling themselves Masters. A lot of men in here do that, you know. Makes them feel powerful. If it makes you feel better, I could call you that."

He rolls his eyes. Fond. Amused. "That doesn't really count."

"No, I suppose not," you smile. The kind with your eyes that crinkles softly. The kind that always makes him wonder whether you're actually being authentic. Sometimes he forgets you're human under all the sequins and smoke, when you strut around the room like you're one of the suns and everyone else is in orbit.

You seem like you genuinely want to put him at ease right now, even with all your playful little jabs. It makes him sigh, shoulders slumping as his hand finds your waist.

"You're good at this, you know," he murmurs.

"And you're good at being a Jedi hero," you counter, gently urging him back towards the bed. "But enough moping. I'm not wasting this outfit on you if you think your credits are going towards therapy."

He laughs as the back of his legs hit the bed, letting himself fall. He props himself up on his elbows to watch you trail a tantalising finger down your chest, through the valley of your breasts. It's enough to make any man's throat go dry. Especially a Jedi who's only form of action is the rare occasions he can sneak away to see you.

"No? What are they going towards, then?"

"Depends. Whaddya want tonight?" You ask playfully, tugging at the alarmingly thin strap between the two cups barely concealing your tits. His eyes are drawn to them, watching the way the fat spills out of the satin, the red material a stark contrast to your skin.

He swallows thickly.

"Eyes up here, big shot."

His blue eyes flick up to your own, a little sheepish. This is the part where he has you sprawl out beneath him for his perusal. But instead, he says:

"I just want to feel good at something. Make you feel good."

It surprises you a little, your hand faltering where it's been idly exploring your cleavage. You recover quickly enough that he doesn't comment on your blunder. "You always make me feel good."

"That's a practiced answer," he accuses.

"Practiced but true in your case."

"Fine. But I mean it. I could use the ego boost."

"But—"

"Who's the paying customer?" Anakin interjects.

"You aren't making me feel very good by smart-mouthing me, you know."

He ignores your faux-admonishment. "So you'll let me?"

It's not as if you're opposed to it. Not in the slightest. It's just surprising.

"I'd let you do anything. You know I would."

A shadow of a grin crosses his face, before his braced elbows fall and he lays down. Dark hair spread across your pillows, fanning out in messy curls against the satin.

"Ride my face."

He says it so earnestly you almost laugh. Sometimes you forget how young he is. Nothing like the old timers who come in here looking for a quick fuck with no regards for anything but their own dicks.

"Are you sure? We've never done that before."

"You're not the only girl I've been with," he counters. It's almost enough to make your chest twinge with jealousy—you know he's seen other girls here. When you're busy, or before you became his favourite. You're a professional, though. Don't let it show.

"Okay," you relent. You can't help but be spiteful, though. Panties dragging agonisingly down your thighs while he watches through half-lidded eyes as the fabric inches lower, lower, lower...

Eventually they pool around your ankles, and you step out of them. The bra (a generous term for such a skimpy piece of fabric) follows as you move to straddle him.

"Higher," he says, hands finding your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his body. The contrast between cool metal and a warm palm on each leg makes you shudder.

You whack a hand gently. "Patient. Thought you wanted to be good?"

He bites back a groan, his hands stilling. They still rest on the plush flesh of your thighs, but he isn't tugging insistently at your limbs to get you where he wants you. You continue with your torturous pace, moving up his body. The slick of your cunt drags across his bare abs, and a sharp breath escapes him.

The friction is enough to have you sigh softly as you ease upwards. You take your time teasing his nipples until he's tensing underneath you, back arched up off the mattress and fingers curling into your skin.

"I didn't think this would make you so much of a tease," he says breathlessly.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" Your eyelashes bat innocently at him. "This is what gets me off. You're being useful."

He gives you an unimpressed look for your faux-naïf, but he keeps his mouth shut. You're so close that he doesn't want to goad you into holding back any longer. And he's rewarded for his patience when you give a little pat to his pecs, and finally move to hover over his face.

He looks like an undercity kid who's seen the surface for the first time. Eager blue eyes, mouth salivating at the sight of your dripping cunt above him. It's hard to find the restraint to not dive in and bury his nose in your folds. Just the smell almost has his eyes rolling back.

"Please," he murmurs. Breathy and whiny, like a young man begging for a drop of salvation, not the famed 'Hero with No Fear' breaking his Code to spend the night in a pleasure house. "C'mon. Just let me. Oh, please, I need it—"

You sink down onto his mouth before he can finish his sentence. He moans into your heat, tongue flicking out to drink up whatever has already spilled from you. There's nothing tentative about it—it's like he's devoting everything into worshipping you with his mouth. Gone are the thoughts of his Master and the rest of the Council denying him. All he can comprehend is your sweet mewls as you sit atop his face.

His chin is soaked with the fluids of your pleasure, nose nudging your clit each time you roll your hips against his face. It's instinctive and you hardly mean to do it, but he grips your hips and guides you to grind against his eager mouth.

"Oh, Ani," you moan softly. "Just like that. Mhm."

It's enough encouragement for him to keep working. Dutifully strokes of his tongue, switching between nuzzling between your slick folds and sucking at your clit. Cheeks hollowed out and applying suction as you brace a hand against the headboard, the other nestled into his soft curls.

Your thighs tremble on each side of his head, toes curling into the sheets every time he flicks eagerly at the bud. Hips rocking upwards against the air in search of friction he physically cannot receive right now, cock hard and leaking in the confines of his pants. His erection is almost painful, but he wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to be good for something.

"You'd do wonders in here, you know,” you manage through a groan. “If you're looking to become a— oh, fuckkkk—different kind of master. Very skilled mouth."

His laugh vibrates against your dripping cunt. "Tempting, if I get to work in such close quarters with you."

"Mhm, maybe. Perhaps we could become a bit of a duo. They pay extra for that, you know. And the tips are great. You should really— oh!"

His teeth graze against that sensitive spot that has your eyes rolling back. "I didn't come here for a new career. Just let me make you feel good, please?"

All you can manage is a hum of agreement with the way he's redoubled his efforts. Tongue flattened against the roll of your hips, obediently letting you use his wet mouth to chase your own pleasure. The feeling of your sopping cunt grinding against his face chases anything but you from his mind.

The pleasure grows almost blinding. "Fuck, close," you gasp out, tugging lightly on his hair.

It earns a pleased moan into your heat. "Please. Wanna feel it," he mumbles, a rumble into you in between licks of his tongue. He doesn't think he's ever tasted anything sweeter.

A few more carefully placed laps and your thighs tense. One of your hands moves to cup your breast as you ride through your orgasm, release spilling over his awaiting mouth. He welcomes it all eagerly, working you through it as his name falls off your tongue again and again.

When you roll off of him, you're both short of breath. Neither of you bother to wipe the smear of your slick off his chin as you sink down next to him. One glance to the chronometer on the wall tells you he's spent most of his time worshipping your pussy rather than chasing his own pleasure. Another glance, this time to him, makes it very clear he isn't bothered by that in the slightest.

Oh, well. You still have a few more minutes for him to smother you in affection unbefitting of two people from your stations in life.

It’s quiet after that. Light, fleeting touches as you catch your breaths.

Aftercare with him is the best part, you think. When all the tension is released and he's all lazy, boyish smiles as he runs his hands absently up and down your bare arm. Soft kisses placed to your shoulders, an apologetic brush of his lips against any splotchy bruises left by the men and women before him. Most patrons are always right out the door, but Anakin...

Well, he likes to check in. Make sure you're okay. Have a bit of banter.

"Was I too much? Was that alright?"

You smile. A silly question, given you were calling most of the shots when you were actually on top of him. You answer anyways.

"No. No, you were perfect," you tell him softly, pushing a sweaty brown curl off of his forehead.

His brow pinches like he doesn't believe you. Not about the too much part. The perfect part. "But I—"

"Ani," you cut him off. The nickname makes him melt back into the sheets. More docile, relaxed. "You are perfect. Those Jedis all have sticks up their asses if they can't see you deserve to sit around their silly little table, or whatever it is they do up in their fancy pants Council Room."

He sighs. A beat of silence.

"... Lightsabers," he corrects.

You blink stupidly. "What?"

"They have lightsabers stuck up their asses."

There's the Anakin you know. You snort softly, bracing your forearm on top of his chest to peer down at him. "I'm pretty sure that'd burn them inside out."

"Maybe they deserve it," he fires back. Something about the way he says it makes you think he's not entirely joking. But you laugh anyways, head shaking softly.

"Maybe they do," you agree, ducking down to plant a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Anyways, you best get going. I have to clean up before the next one comes in."

"Do I have to?" He groans. "Just cancel. Tell them you're sick."

"She's a regular. Unfortunately, you have to go face reality." You sit up, patting his chest. "Go be a big, brave Jedi for me, yeah?"

Anakin rolls his eyes, but he obliges reluctantly, even if he makes a big show of sighing loudly and dragging himself sluggishly out of the soiled sheets in search of his discarded robes.

If tonight has shown you one thing, it's that he probably shouldn't be a Jedi Master after all the rules he's broken in one evening alone. But you don't tell him that. You make your coin out of sleeping with sleazebags from all over the Galaxy in the Coruscant Underworld, after all.

Who are you to judge?

[promise-of-soup]

┊┊❁ཻུ۪۪♡ ͎. ｡˚ Picking Favourites°︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

☆Synopsis: (Off-screen) The Ghouls have grown frustrated attempting to figure out who your favourite is among them. You have been repeating the same thing: "I don't pick favourites", but do you actually?

AKA: Jiro Kirisaki, your closest friend among the Ghouls, has been acting a bit strange lately, despite this, he has remained the only Ghoul not to ask you who your favourite is, does he know?

☆Tags? Jiro Kirisaki x Reader, lots of pining, MC refered to as 'girl' and 'she', no physical descriptions but MC is shorter than Jiro, Kaito is hella jealous (I always imagine that he's extra jealous if MC likes Jiro), Lucas is there too, physical affection, fluff, suggestive but not directly, you and Jiro share a bed, Haru mention, Ed mention, Rui mention, this kinda builds on my Jiro affection headcanons post, a bit unedited because yes, potential for part two :)

☆Notes: this might be a part one if I feel like writing more of this, I am also not opposed to making smut within this same scenario if you'd like me to, this is a bit all over the place ngl, atm since my blog is new I am doing non-smut stuff first... CAN YOU GUYS TELL I LIKE JIRO????

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Pale morning light gently touches your eyelids, having entered your currently messy dorm room through the beautiful window overhead. You blink awake the day. Everything is warm. It had been a long week, this feels nice, relaxing.

The scent of wood faintly radiates off the floor planks, having been warmed by the very sunlight that had woken you up. Your blanket has been warmed by the comfort of a much needed night's sleep; the likes of which you have not felt for a long time. Your body itself is encompassed with another kind of warmth: it is heavy upon your limbs. Your eyes go wide at once when you realize how such warmth came to surround you: a pair of large arms hold you in place from behind, one is drapped over your own arm, and the other holds your waist with a loose grip that proves to be enough to keep you from wiggling away. The figure's long legs are adjacent to yours, and its head is buried into the crook of your neck, leaving a warm spot where quiet breathes slowly feather air onto your skin. At what point of the night has he gotten this close?

When Jiro first suggested he sleeps over before Anomalous Combat class he had pitched the idea as a non-intrusive way to "increase effeciency", this makes sense, of course, because the class happens to be relatively early in the morning, in a location that is quite close to your dorm room, and he was already walking you to it every week with no exceptions. So clearly if he slept over in your dorm the night before, he wouldn't need to wake up so early to make it in time, and could just go straight to class with you. Right?

What he failed to mention is that this would entail holding you against him so tightly, he specifically said he sleeps very still and would keep to his designated side of the bed, after all, you insisted he slept on the bed. You're unsure if you should push his arms away and fall to the floor coughing in shock, or if you should enjoy the fleeting time you have been blessed with to be this close to him. He's so warm, and his hands are so soft against you... it would be really difficult to push him away too, he's so strong, you wouldn't want to wake him up so suddenly, he barely gets to sleep for this long. So you just take it all in: the way his soft hair presses against your bare skin through a small gap in your pajama shirt, the way his fingers flutter ever-so-gently against you, how his chest rises and falls against your back; you're so aware of every slight movement he makes, and can tell that he is about to wake up and take it all away from you, but nothing prepares you for the manner at which he wakes.

"G'morning..." the edges of Jiro's lips brush against your neck when he speaks, his voice rough and deeper than usual, causing your entire body to shiver at once as your hands clasp around nothing and your face heats up.

He can tell, he always can, so he giggles, making sure to press even further into you when he does, so that his lips are directly against your skin and the sound echoes through your entire system and leaves a mark in your heart.

"G-Good morning" you respond, as best as you can.

Jiro doesn't falter, nor does he take his hands away from you. In fact, he tightens his hold, directly inhaling your scent in a manner that is both sharp and obvious as he shifts so that his torso and your torso are folded together, digs his fingers into your waist, and chuckles into your neck again. Your mind reassures you that he's simply moving around in a sleepy state, he's just woken up, he can't tell what he's doing, nor can he tell that he is pressing against you. You flinch, shocked. You're just friends, this is a natural thing men go through, he's not doing it on purpose. But he's not moving away, has he not noticed?

He shifts again, ever so slightly, and you feel his length through the thick layers of fabric that seperate you. It is echoing through your core and you cough, using all the strength you can master to open his hands up like a door and to step through it, away from the bed, muttering about how you're going to be late for class if you don't make haste to get ready or whatever and stuff.

The fucker has the audacity to smile up at you, telling you to go get ready first and turning around to lay on his back like he owns the place.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You lock yourself in the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water, but it remains ever as hot, and no amount of cold water cools it down, it seems.

You week has been so difficult. You have been dragged to here and there, told to do this and that, and all under the guise of the same motive: so that those who had requested your "help" could batter you with the same question, over and over and over again.

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"I'm so your favourite." Haru elbowed your side as you arose from picking a stray cup off the ground. He had requested your assistance with feeding the anomolous animals that day, and at that point you had spent what had to be at least three hours running around Jabberwock with various bags of dry food.

"I don't pick favourites." you told Haru the same thing you have been telling everyone, and watched his bright smile dwindle down into a forced frown.

"C'mon," He urged, grabbing your sides and shaking you ever so slightly, "There has to be someone?" his tone was questioning, but it was definetly a statement.

"I love you all equally." you insisted.

The same exact situation, perhaps with different levels of intensity, kept repeating itself, buried under layers of forced labour and endless tasks.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Of course you have a favourite, and it's obvious too. You've slept in the same room as some of the other Ghouls while on a mission before, but you can't imagine letting anyone other than Jiro sleep in your actual dorm, let alone in the same bed as you. He makes you feel safe, more so than anyone else you've come to know, and he's always there for you, no matter what you need him for.

Hell, even the fact that he's here now, in the other room, is proof of how he is there for you: he's been kind enough to walk with you to class every week with no fail, and suggested to sleep over just to make it easier to do that, it's not his fault he's so tired all the time, you wouldn't want to make him walk over here so early in the morning, and Yuri barely lets him sleep. This is a nice thing for him, you went and made it weird with your heated face and suggestive thoughts.

You feel the ache in your muscles, and the dread you've felt all week begins to climb up your body again: yet another day of being asked to pick favourites. You wish they just let it go already. It's worse now, too because even worse than the ache in your muscles is the ache in your chest, your face is still hot, seemingly having spread to the rest of your body with an unstopable force of awareness from what had transpired earlier.

Nothing happened.

You reassure yourself, but in all honestly, you are kind of mad at yourself that nothing happened. You shouldn't be.

So you just sigh and do your best to brush your hair into a ponytail, accidently touching along the spot on your neck where his lips linger. Taking off your pajama to replace it with a tracksuit is making you imagine his hands running over your skin, and even brushing your teeth is difficult, because you can't help but think of something else that could have been in your mouth if you were stupid enough to stay. This is not normal, he's your friend, you should be ashamed of yourself... so you cover your face with your hands and let out a, very quiet, groan of annoyance.

When you leave the bathroom, you are greeted with the sight of your friend Jiro sitting on the edge of your bed, shirtless. Searching his duffle bag for the upper components of his tracksuit. He sits up when he hears you approach, leaning into his arms and nonchalantly displaying his toned body, talking casually.

"This is the best sleep I've had in a while," he confesses, "Maybe you affect my sleep like you do my eating and drinking," he nods, "curious."

"Maybe." You respond, averting your gaze. Well, if you help his sleep-deprived self sleep better, then it justifies everything, right? Allowing him to sleep over again would be a good thing, you're literally just helping your friend, "Glad I could be of help..."

He chuckles again, and continues searching for the missing part of his tracksuit, "I apologize if I got a bit handsy in my sleep."

Oh, so he does know, you still can't look at him, but you do your best to mummble a "no, no it's alright," finished with an uncomfortable laugh.

Eventually, after Jiro gets fully dressed, and you pack all your needed equipment for the day, both of you grab your respective bags and make way towards class.

You sure did sleep kind of late today; you might be frustrated but at least you're refreshed, and if anyone asks you annoying questions, you would at least have more energy to deflect them.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

Kaito and Luca have already started stretching in the enclosed field, even before Professor Moby showed up, and they are quick to greet Jiro and you. The two of you drop your bags on the corner of a bench they had already claimed, making it a neat pile of four bags. You bury your hands in your pockets and huddle into yourself from the chilled wind that rams itself into you, and when you are close enough to Kaito and Luca, and are just about to ask them how they're doing and carry on as usual, Jiro suddenly blurts a "I think I left my water bottle in your dorm."

You turn rigid, turning around like a plank of wood to face him, as Luca smiles in confusion and Kaito's face turns a shade of red you've only ever seen on tomatoes before.

"He- He? What?!" Kaito screechs, "Wh-Why would he leave something at your place?" he sweats with every word, unsure if he's afraid, jealous, or purely confused.

Before you can form any part of a sentence, Jiro answers with his signiture unbothered monotone, but his words no-doubt carefully selected, "We slept together."

"You what?!" Kaito's voice comes out higher than a dog-whistle at this point.

Your face is hot again, but you do your best to calm the situation, "What he means to say is that he slept over."

"Yeah, sorry." Jiro agrees, scratching the back of his neck.

"St-still! He's a guy! Why would you let a guy sleep over in your dorm? You're a girl! Why him and not me?" Kaito mummbles incoherently, you can barely make out what he's saying, but honestly, you can't be bothered to try.

Truth be told, even if Jiro meant to say it in a way that would come across as suggestive, you don't like the idea of Kaito implying you're incapable of making decisions like these purely because you're a girl. "He's my friend, Kaito, I know what I'm doing."

Jiro hums.

"But still! he- the - hm? you? What if the-" Kaito tries to prove a point, you have no idea what that point is.

Regardless, Mobi shows up and class promptly begins.

You join in on as much as you can: doing the never-ending warm up, dodging projectiles Mobi hurls at you, and even a small part of the standard practice; cheering Luca on as he takes fiercly battles a scary piece of cardboard.

When you can't go on, not because you can't, but because there's nothing you can do, you take a sit on the bench and watch your three friends struggle against an ongrowing array of moving targets. Jiro looks so handsome slashing through things with his massive chainsaw, it's such a cool weapon in your opinion and the way that he manouvers it just serves to highlight how strong he is, you bet he could pick you up just as easily and-

Friend.

You clear your throat and continue to watch, trying to focus on Kaito instead, but it is very difficult to not look at Jiro, they're standing close together so you can always pretend to be looking elsewhere, and you are not checking out his sweaty form and how good his muscles look under the warm sun, or how his pale skin almost glistens, he looks so focused with his sharp red eyes staring ahead and his movements following such clear pathways to perfectly attack anything coming his way. Urgh.

Your phone pings, "Grandpa Ed💜", good, a distraction.

----

"Dear MC😃, I hear👂that Rui and company👬are trying to figure out who your 💖favourite💖 Ghoul🧟 is?💭 Is it me?💭"

----

Seems you can't escape even when you're not physically there... You respond back to Ed with the same old answer, and he responds with a sad emoji. At least this did distract you enough for class to end.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

You all make your way to the changing room, yes, changing room singular. Darkwick's lack of diversity in Ghouls has led to the men's changing room being the only opperational one, but you had grown accustomed to changing into your uniform in a shower booth and waiting for your friends to finish getting dressed before you step out. It's just your friends, so it isn't that big of a deal.

You are quick to change into your uniform and just as quick to exit back into the main room: Kaito searches for something in his bag, Luca is drinking water in the corner, and Jiro is slumped over a bench with his back to the lockers, head drooping to the side, his uniform shirt unbuttoned, and his expression sickly.

"Jiro-Kun?" you ask, rushing over, "Are you alright?" You sit beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He turns to look at you, and so does Kaito, and weakly responds "Could you please help me get dressed?"

You nod with a concerned smile, "of course."

With a careful hand you begin to button up his shirt from the bottom to the top, it takes a bit of a struggle given the awkward to manouver position he is sitting in, and also the general proximity between you two, but you do your best because your friend needs your help.

He groans in pain at nothing, and you silently coo at him, forgetting the fact that you're not alone in the room. As you reach the top button of his shirt, he grabs your wrist suddenly, keeping you there. his hand shakes slightly with a weakness and you smile gently at him, keeping your hand where he holds it and reaching out with your other hand to your open bag, grabbing your water bottle and lifting it up to him like a wounded animal. You help him tilt the bottle, now with both hands, and he takes a few slow sips from it, careful to not attempt too much at once, some of it drips down his chin and onto his neck: you wipe it off with the corner of your blazer and smile at him.

You ask, "Do you need me to take you back to Mortkranken?"

"I think I'll be alright," he reassures you, placing his hand on top of yours again and carefully smoothing his finger along your knuckles, "Thanks for helping me."

"What are you doing?" Kaito jolts, "You- You're, I-"

Oh you, there are other people in the room.

Luca cuts in, trying to make use of his brilliant social awareness, "Is Jiro your favourite Ghoul?"

"What? Of course he isn't! It's a- I- the-" Kaito answers for you, once again red and sweating.

You look at Jiro, hoping to finally judge his reaction on the matter. After all, he has remained the sole Ghoul to not ask you that question even once. His face remains blank and hard to read, nice.

"I don't pick favourites." You respond, smiling up at Luca and Kaito, your hand is very much still being held by Jiro.

"But if you had to choose?" Kaito questions you with a cocked eyebrow, fists clenched and knuckles spasaming.

Jiro stares at you, expression still a mystery, and you clear your throat with diplomacy, "I love you all equally."

You do your best here, because not doing your best here might accidently start a sequel to the infamous clash, and you do not want to be caught in the middle of that. Similar to how all Ghouls have reacted to the same line you had been reciting all week, two of the three Ghouls in the changing room give you a slight pout and a disappointed sigh, the third, though, is smiling very faintly; the kind of faint smile he does where only someone who has stared at his face for as long as you have could tell apart from his usual expression. This is preplaxing you, because why would he be smiling at this?

"I changed my mind," he coughs suddenly, "I think I need you to take me to Mortkranken."

You give Jiro's head a slight pat, help him up until he is standing straight and towering over you, and greet your two friends goodbye as you make your way out of the room, leaving them confused and cringed out of their heads.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━

The two of you walk side by side in comfortable silence. This silence always falls between you, and you enjoy it, because it's a rare occurance for you nowadays to get any kind of silence, let alone a comfortable one that is accompanied by a friendly, cozy, aura.

"So," he breaks it, observing you from the corner of his red eyes.

You fidget slightly, but turn your head to look at him nonetheless, he carries the same smile from earlier, looking ever as bright and not at all sick.

"Why is everyone so keen on figuring out who your favourite Ghoul is?" Jiro's tone is coy, unsure, and still somehow knowing in a way you can't place yet.

"I wish I knew," you respond candidly, "I don't know why it matters that much."

He nods, "Do you even have a favourite to begin with?"

Your face heats up for the nth time today, and you fumble to formulate a response that doesn't give it away, ending on a really unfortunate, "No?" which sounds unconfident and forced.

He laughs at you. Really laughs, like he always does when you witness something scary; screaming and huddling to his side. He laughs and places a hand on your hair, ruffling it, mimicing the way you always do the same to him, and then his eyes close from the force of his laughter, and he confirms, "I knew it."

"Knew what?" You ask, letting him slide his hand from your hair down to your shoulders, you know what he had figured out, but you don't want to say it just to retain the benefit of the doubt.

"I'm your favourite." he chuckles.

With a sigh, you nuzzle into his side as the two of you continue to walk, "Yeah."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

A/N: YEEEE HAWW lemme know if you want a part two bbgirls, sorry for the lack of editing I have to work my adult job of editing lmao

[everything-transmasculine]

Apologies if this is far too venty for this blog, but I just gotta rant.

I try to frequent both transandrophobia tags and transmysoginy.

I found transandrophobia while trying to find other people who related to my specific experiences, so I could find a support system and know that I'm not alone. Know that I'm not crazy, that the way people treat me really is related to my trans masculinity.

Then, I frequent transmysoginy, because I want to learn and be aware of the struggles trans women & transfemmes face.

But at this point, I can't view the transmysoginy tag without getting slapped with "fuck men" and "tme's should be shot" and "trans men don't have any problems"

I know it's only a very small vocal minority, I know the vast majority of people who post on that tag are alright. They don't hate us. They support us. They know we're struggling.

But it hurts. It hurts terribly as trans men & transmascs already do not have a support system. We don't have anybody but each other. We're expected to just "man up and deal with it".

It feels like I'm looking at these tags as a form of unintentional self harm at this point.

It's weird, because, from my perspective, most folk constantly remind that, the shitty transphobic posts on the transmisoginy tag, are obviously just a vocal minority and shouldn't be the mascot for the entire tag.

But it feels as though nobody gives that same thought for the transandrophobia tag.

theres no such thing as too venty anon - im here to support you, no matter how complicated or difficult the topic is. :)

ive noticed a definite uptick in “fuck transmascs” as a sentiment from across the site, whether that be in transmisogyny tags, or otherwise - and while this is a very vocal minority who are co-opting the terminology for their own personal gain (reactionary groups LOVE stealing legitimate terminology to prop themselves up as “more logical”) it still is very disheartening to see. when i trawl the usual tags for antitransmasculinity, i really dont see this same sentiment echoed - yes, there are some people who use it for personal gain, as is with any popular tag on tumblr, but the majority of the posts in the tags “transandrophobia” and its derivatives… its mostly just transmasculine people speaking about the horrific abuse theyve had to endure, or its transmasculine people calling for trans unity. those who do try to instigate trans separatism and calls for lateral aggression should be drowned out, laughed at and ignored.

i think this vocal minority is definitely doing more harm than good to the trans community as a whole, and these bad actors are counting on that to destabilize and delegitamize any attempts at trans unity. these people - in both tags - are not dealing with the repercussions of their transphobia offline, they are stirring the pot and then dipping. its easier to stir up a group of people against eachother than it is to unify them - especially when we are already so diverse. its important to recognize and remember that these people calling for violence against trans people (of any kind) are not our allies. these are not people we should be giving ANY attention - because, ultimately, what they want is attention. what they want is a platform. rule #1 of the internet - dont feed the trolls.

as an aside - no, i dont think some transfems and trans women being snappy or insulting online is a systemic issue. i am speaking about real world repercussions and consequences transmasculine people are facing (myself included in that - i have some stories) due to the pervasiveness and reparroting of anti trans rhetoric under the guise of it being “punching up” here… because at the end of the day, youre still just punching. (what i mean is, we are seeing a lot of watered down versions of transphobia, but that doesnt mean it doesnt still hurt.)

[oh-no-its-bird]

HELPPP IM CRYING ACTUALLY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THEM???? HONORED TBH????? I love these silly little guys SO much I'm losing my mind over here that u like them enough to write smthn so long ab it, omg don't look at me rn I'm crying

I never thought too much ab Haruka's voice before but tbh now what u described it that way that's just the Official Haruka Voice Take (tm) actually, that is how she sounds now

"I've got nothing better to do, I think she's funny and I want to reinforce her bad habits <3" is so fucking funny and so fucking accurate, this is exactly what is happening in the twins minds actually.

In my notes for their personalities in my notesapp, I just wrote "They're genuinley just the fucking WORST to deal with. Their "I'm going to cause problems on purpose" dials got cranked up to 10 and got stuck that way at birth" which I think sums it up nicely.

I've been writing silly small stuff for them lately to hoard jealously in my notesapp and I think Haru has a genuine mean streak while Hiro is a lot more bark than bite— but also Haru looks and talks a bit gentler while Hiro acts and sounds rougher, so they often give off the opposite impressions. Don't worry Hiro, your brother will do what you aren't strong enough to (crime)

There's all sorts of fun layers to it too, like, considering they're from a clan who tries to shelter it's children— but they're also from the infamously bloody warring states period, who had to bring up their children much quicker and rougher than modern. I think Hiro would have made a wonderful modern day shinobi while Haru is a good example of the inherent violence of the warring states, just buried under good cheer and playfulness. Mmmm phycology,,,

I love their little trio with Shiruka, they are besties and she's also their first real friend their age, while she's kind of but not quite an outcast in her own clan due to her parents poor standing. She's older sibling coded and so tired of their shit but also quietly, perpetually amused by it, which is probably part of why she sticks around. That, plus their clear undying loyalty towards anything and anyone considered "theirs"— a list she's made it on and does her best to reply in kind

They are holding hands and will continue to hold hands together till they inevitably die at ~19 for the good of the village, yippie !!!

At least they'll get to live on in the memory of Hiname,,

Just kidding she dies like 3 years later, whoops!

BUT YEAH THEM !!! I love them so much, I had way too much fun thinking ab just the ecosystem for young shinobi in early konoha.

I have so many more thoughts ab it all tbh, theres no doubt tons of things happening as so many different people and clans settle in to a new normal but I ofc have my focus

I think I accidentally created some sort of little mystery/conflict with my silly meme of Shiruka going "he wants to order break into my clan heirs house" while also stating that she and her family aren't currently in good standing with the Nara main family.

I wasn't thinking ab it too hard when I drew it but now I'm sat over here like "girl why are you helping Haru break into your clan heirs home when you're already most likley on their (or at least their parents) shit list?? Who is the clan heir and why does Haru want to break into their house?? What drama is this??"

I'll probably think harder about it later, I feel like there's potential there

I need to stop thinking so hard ab potential early konoha narrative things bc I refuse to be consumed by it and know I very much will give in to The Voices if I continue

I say that but I'm absoloutley going to continue to think ab them. Actually.

Ough,,, Wolves of the Woods my beloved,,, one day I'll write u,,, one day,,

That said I'm also enamored with Tetsuo as clan heir (someone get him out of there!!!) He's great at it but also really, really does not want the position.

I think when he was younger and Tobirama was visiting the clan, he point blank begged him to take the position— But Tobirama said no, he's a Senju through and through and he's proud to be second to his Anija. A week later, and Tetsuo officially got the title (and maybe cried about it but only just a little and only on the inside)

(Tetsuo is still nursing a tiny grudge over this, though it's lessened slightly since Sakumo's birth)

POV he's in an especially bitchy mood and Tobirama asks him something and he just kind of grumbles, "oh, I'm sorry, are you my clan heir?"

Queue ??????? from like half of those present

He's so cute tho I think he has my favorite design of all of them. He dresses the fanciest for sure— Haruka totally owns similar things (I think the half and half haori is super cute and I want it to be a clan staple) but only wears it on occasions where she needs to, while he's more traditional/conscious of himself and his position, so he dresses like that all the time. He's probably the guy they send to the capital whenever it's necessary and the clan heads presence isn't needed

Random early konoha oc fun fact no one asked for: I have a vague messy fic idea from months ago now that basically amounts to "the Hatake's die before Madara defects to the village, and Kabuto, in practicing Orochimaru's edo tensei in preparation for the final battle, revives them— then manages to lose them in transport before they wake up. Not knowing any better, they flock to Madara to help in his fight"

I love time travel I love drama I love horrible misunderstandings and family/clan drama !!!!!

Uhh take some notes from that:

ANYWAYS THANKS SO MUCH IM SO GLAD U LIKE THEM SORRY FOR MY WORD VOMIT I JUST GET SO EXCITED AB THEM I COULD EXPLODE WITH IT ACTUALLY

Silly, early Konoha lore and oc things drawn while thinking about this post

!!! early konoha my beloved !!! I have so many thoughts ab it, I want to write a fic that's just silly early Konoha things viewed from the perspective of the less important clan members and their everyday lives. I'm aware the audience for that is incredibly small but I have too much fun just thinking ab it to really care!

Ichigo remains the only naruto oc Ive ever actually written for (in one step three steps), tho Haruka has been mentioned in multiple fics of mine now just bc she fills the role of Tobirama + Hashirama's blood aunt that I needed to be filled in my "Kakashi interacts with Tobirama w the knowledge that they are directly related" fics, of which there are now multiple

but yeah, take some silly art and lore comics !! I had fun while making these and will now probably put all these ocs on a shelf where I will not touch them for some more months

[amphibianaday]

day 1421

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

The Hitler and KKK jokes were never funny tbh

[inksandpensblog]

something about the majority of Sebastian’s possible interactions being negative when he’s the only interactive entity in the game. something about player engagement and the desire for exploration and how this is fulfilled via interaction. something about player interactions prompting negative reactions from Sebastian but reactions are still reactions and so the player is essentially rewarded for harassing him. something about how any attempt to discover more of what his character has to offer basically ruins any rapport you could’ve been building with him. something about how the only way to keep in whatever good graces he still has is to go against player instinct and and leave him the fuck alone and deliberately not attempt to engage beyond the ground rules he lays out.

[dewwshi]

small compilation of some lod character portraits i've done while reading

[4lph4kidz]

i was thinking about your dirk and hal poll and i want to mention that i think your concept for ink and iron where dirk creates hal from his reflection by enchanting a mirror is so cool 😌

thank you! hal's predicament and purpose within the canon narrative is so fascinating and i felt it was really important to find a way to explore what i find most interesting with him. i can't take full credit for the concept though i took inspiration from a few placees (one of my friends pitched the idea of the mirror accidentally dumping him onto jake's doorstop for example) but overall i think the idea is very fun and i'm really excited to write more hal stuff!!! also i'm going to take the opportunity to share this oldish doodle i found:

the mispelling of angel as angle was NOT intentional (<- dyslexia haver) but it probably explains a lot. he's pointy

[wackywatchdotcom]

realizing just how LONG its been since ive posted a ragatha comic. i need to do that again its been too long despite the fact that i think most of my best work wrt tadc has been my ragatha stuff...

hey wait wtf i posted this and tumblr deleted like the last 12 tags. what the hell . that sucks. maybe i hit tag limit and it just didnt tell me or stop me from adding more tags...

[torchickentacos]

The pokemon anime subreddit fascinates and frustrates me on equally deep levels

[shredsandpatches]

As a little addendum to this post I think probably the version of Faust that goes in the most on "starts out wanting to help people but loses sight of it" is the Murnau film, in which his loss of faith is occasioned by his inability to cure a plague (which the audience knows Mephistopheles actually caused in order to get that exact result). Once he's made his deal with Mephistopheles the first thing he does is cure a plague victim, which gets him hailed as a miracle worker right up until the second person in line arrives clutching a cross, which renders his powers useless and thus exposes precisely how he got them. Upon escaping the townspeople's attempt to immediately stone him to death, he decides, fine then. If I can't do anything helpful with my demonic powers, I'm just gonna fuck. (Which he of course then does.)

This version, consequently, is probably the most explicit about suggesting that you probably just can't do much that's constructive with demonic powers, although I think it's basically implicit in most versions up until Goethe's Faust II (where he doesn't even really need them to do the constructive things he attempts, so it just fucks up his efforts unnecessarily, but Goethe's Faust isn't initially motivated by the desire to do great deeds either, he's just tired of life and also a contrarian, and also Faust I and Faust II are really really different texts). Which is why I've never really vibed with the "scientific" reading that centers around the deal with the devil as a metaphor for technical advances or whatever. Not with the Marlowe version, anyway. I get why people do it, but eh.

[batsplat]

this came on my dash and ehhhh i'm not the type to reblog and criticise but apparently i AM the type who will snidely link to it instead

the thing is i don't even disagree that buffy has feelings for spike even by s6 but like. this is missing a pretty significant plot point. buffy died! she died and was brought back to life and felt like she was leaving heaven to return to hell. she's lying to her friends who tore her out of a peaceful, happy afterlife and she feels like she came back wrong. buffy sleeping with spike is like... it's supposed to be out of character, that's a big part of the storytelling of s6. spike gets to her when she's vulnerable and becomes the one person who won't condemn her 'wrongness', who she can confide into - and in return, she uses him. this is buffy in crisis, feeling like she's lost herself. from the dead things conversation with tara:

'using' someone isn't the same thing as 'casual sex' but it is like. in the same conceptual ballpark. and it is something that buffy is actively struggling with, because her emotions towards spike don't match up with what her principles tell her her actions should be. and spike's feelings for her still can't be characterised as straightforwardly romantic either because within the show's mythology, it does matter that he doesn't have a soul. with a lot of the good he does - even when he thinks buffy is dead - it's tough to know what his motivations are and whether they're truly 'pure'. and in turn, buffy is capable of acting the way she does towards spike by objectifying and dehumanising him, by treating him as someone not fully capable of pain in the way living humans are. the casual sex is... kinda part of that

i'm not even saying this post is completely wrong... again i do think buffy had real emotions for spike at that point, including for the reasons the reblog mentioned. and obviously the delight of that relationship is you can read it in a lot of different ways. but i feel like 'well if she didn't have feelings for him this would be super out of character behaviour' is a pretty poor argument given... the whole point is that she's acting out of character. it's explicitly out of character! maybe you can say this lapse from her is only possible if some prior emotions already existed, which, fine. but, man. you've got to acknowledge she just died. can we please acknowledge she just died

[the-worms-in-your-bones]

Me seeing someone with a cool name: oooooo, what if

Another part of my brain: no. we spent enough time getting to Jonah. we’re not doing it again

[jamiethebeeart]

Sketches

[ersatz-introspective]

ppl, especially low/no-empathy ppl, who talk to ableist anti-pd cluster b abuse believers with the upmost patience & understanding are so crazy (/pos) for that because what

how do y'all sit there and level w/ them just. so much.

i know it's kind of necessary bcs even if they don't listen to us anyways, they're only gonna think we're 10× worse if we don't walk them through the spiel w/ hands held (which we're not even owed to do anyways) but like i can hardly see myself doing it

so like

respect