#i think this could count as as shitpost

[radiosummons]

Do you guys ever wonder if Obi-Wan had a moment where he just, I don't know, sat down and thought about the sheer number of Sith coming after him and only him specifically?

I know it's pretty much just a meme at this point in the SW fandom that Obi-Wan has something like a sixth sense or something for attracting literally almost every Dark Side user in the nearest vicinity.

But, like ... if you remember how Obi-Wan is potrayed as a Jedi Initiate and later on as a Padawan, it's kinda crazy/hilarious to think about how this super anxious and emotional kid, who constantly questioned whether he would ever measure up to the expectations placed on him (by himself and others), went on to not only become one of the most famous Jedi in the galaxy but also a sort of legend in his own right. And then straight up became so popular that even the Sith couldn't ignore him.

And this arguably all sort of started after he defeated Maul (for the first time), who was believed at the time to be the first Sith/Sith Lord to appear in over a millenium. And not only did he gain the title of Sith Killer, but he later joined the Jedi Council as one of their youngest members and then went on to play a pivotal role in the Clone Wars as High General.

Like ... he was already a pretty big deal in his own right before the Clone Wars even began. But once the war was in full swing, the man never fucking stopped.

Besides obvious plot and writing reasons, it does sort of make sense then for all these Sith and Dark Side users to constantly target Obi-Wan. I mean, what Sith wouldn't wanna have at least one go at the legendary "Sith Killer?" Why wouldn't they want to test their abilities against a famous Jedi, especially when their head honcho Sith Lord is all but begging them to do everything they can to just fucking end him?

But then, of course, because Obi-Wan is Obi-Wan and he's never one to back down from a challenge, I do find it very compelling and hilarious that his go to reaction when faced with a Sith/Dark Sider is to just taunt and drag them for filth. It's almost like he can't help himself. He's just so clearly unimpressed with them and it's really funny to see the Sith/Dark Sider he's facing get riled up over that. They take is so fucking personally. Every. Single. Time.

Like: "How fucking dare he not take me seriously! How dare he imply that I'm not his equal! How dare he criticize my fashion sense and my abilities in the force! How dare he try to lecture me on the better way to execute my attacks (even if that was actually sort of helpful advice, but I will die before I ever admit that)!"

The fucking gall of this guy, amiright fellas?

So to get back to my original point: Do you guys think Obi-Wan ever regretted his flirting/taunting tactics? Because clearly all those ever did was sort of encourage the Sith/Dark Siders he faced to become a little bit more obsessed with him. Maybe even a little enamored (not in a romantic sense, but no shame to those who like this interpretation). It's weird 'cause aside from Darth Sidious, most of the Sith Obi-Wan encounters seem to sort of respect him? If not on an individual level, at they very least they respect him as a worthy opponent and fighter.

(Small aside: I don't know if I'd go so far as to say Maul ever truly respected Obi-Wan. I'm sure on some level he must have because he literally made obsessing over Obi-Wan his entire personality. But I'd concede that maybe somewhere, deep deep DEEP down in his tiny little cockroach of a heart, Maul respected Obi-Wan enough to at least hate him to the point that even death could not stop him from continuing to wreak havoc on his life.)

And while, yes, this tactic is very amusing to watch and clearly a quite successful one ... I can't help but wonder if maybe it works a little too well. Lord knows Anakin/Darth Vader and Maul never got over Obi-Wan's little taunts. And Asajj seemed to all but look forward to trading witty remarks with him at every given opportunity, even when they were temporary allies. Dooku, of course, basically went full grandpa mode trying to reconnect with his grandson and then took full offense to said grandson not buying into his Sithy bullshit. Obi-Wan didn't even give Dooku a chance to finish submitting his request for adoption/Force custody before dragging his ass for failing Qui-Gon.

I'm almost willing to bet that if Obi-Wan had been alone in a room with Darth Sidious (master plan and true identity fully revealed), Sheev would just withered to an even wrinklier raisin after the absolute READ Obi-Wan would have given him.

Tldr: I just think the idea of a worn out Obi-Wan lying face down on the floor while regretting all his life choices--mainly the whole "I must throw my opponents off by flirting as much as possible. Yes, this is an actual tactic and not am excusable way I can be petty while not violating the Jedi Code"--is a fucking hilarious mental image.

[hiddensneker]

Does anyone else fw the idea that Kai has never cried before and probably never will

[starryeyeddreamer21]

The fact that Vox could be Santa Claus and actively chooses not to is the reason I can't fuck with him on a fundamental level

[xylophone888]

he got his weekly mail

[zeibei]

first kiss but also funny bird meme i saw

[overly-verbose]

Seriously, bro's a professional yapper lmfao

Tbf it's not completely unprovoked and he does just want to at least try explaining some things, if in a roundabout way, to make people more at ease (if not in the moment then overall) but, well-

sometimes it has the opposite effect lmao 😂

Also like, it's absolutely hilarious how I thought

'oh but this is just, like three scenes - how long could this be'

but all the freaking talking and stuff that everyone's doing is making Part 8 the second longest in the series 😂😂😂💀😂

(I fear for my poor brain, man - we've only just barely almost covered the Detention Center Arc

(and a little bit of the VS Mahito Arc Mahito Gets Curse PTSD Arc but I do wanna fill in some of the gaps between those)

and it's already gonna be over 40k words???

Why am I being so ambitious for my first ever proper writing project frrr *perishes a bit*

but I do hope to get it to the end - and beyond because there's no way I wouldn't constantly add to the post-main-plot shenanigans lol - however long that takes heh (just try to be patient with me pls I try my best here 😂) 👍)

[absolutelyzoned]

i want to experience that thing in portal where you have one portal on the ceiling and the other on the floor directly below it and jump in and just. Start falling and falling and falling and falling and falling and falling and falling and falling and falling and fa

[epicfirestormer]

[bluntsam]

i find characters that have distinct ways of talking whether it’s their behavior/dialect or inflection extremely interesting

like i can tell it’s them by the dialog or inflection alone even if it’s not their voice

like it’s the guy! it’s you! i can’t see you but you’re the guy!

[hanzajesthanza]

dandelion: bisexual roll call, let’s go

dandelion (answering his own prompt, muttering and checking a piece of paper with charcoal): *present and accounted for…*

cahir: you can count me, as well

geralt: what is this

dandelion: i’m taking inventory of how many of us are bisexual

geralt: why

dandelion: just curious

geralt: alright. present.

dandelion: thank youuu. regis?

regis (uncharacteristically grave): i do not define myself by these terms. and, to be honest, it’s really a very interesting and complicated topic requiring discussion—

dandelion: —ohhhkay. milva?

milva: no.

dandelion: uhh… do you mean… no to…?

milva: [gets up and leaves]

[thatonefatgumsimp]

I NEED HELP (DND Stuff, might be a dumb question idk-)

So genuine question for DND side of tumblr, but- I've been thinking recently...

And are the things next to the dragonborn colors in the player handbook, like, types of damage that are less effective, their magical girl power, or both?

Cuz I never really thought about that before and I have absolutely no idea-

[oculusxcaro]

Khare never used to be quite so dim-witted. Her slower thought process and ability to learn has been heavily impacted as a result of her mutation but she's still canny enough to gauge a situation or look of a person and go "Yeah, that is somebody I probably shouldn't piss off."

[poisoned-sugar11]

My body sometimes: hey. Don't cry. Sudden stabbing pain, okay?

[czlowiekz1nogawgrobie]

I had a weird dream recently. The details are a bit fuzzy, but the main gist was that I was hanging out with 3 people (one of whom was Etho, I think?? I can't remember) and the maybe Etho was tiny, like the size of a gummy bear, I remember bc I compared him to a gummy bear I was giving him in a dream. We were in a closed shopping mall just fooling around, I don't remember what exactly we did, but near the end of the dream when we decided to skiddadle I went to fetch the tiny guy and jumped down a floor (like 3 meters max) bc the stairs were too far and he was too tiny to do it himself safely.

[yandere-daydreams]

Not-So-Scary Moments With The Yan. Genshin Boys (Sumeru + Fontaine Edition).

Characters: Alhaitham, Neuvillette, Kaveh, Tighnari, Cyno, and Wriothesley.

Word Count: 2.7k.

TW: Borderline Shitposting, Prolonged Imprisonment, Varying Levels of Emotional and Physical Abuse, Codependency, Mentions of Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

Alhaitham

It took Alhaitham about ten minutes to drag himself out of bed, his staggered footsteps audible through the thin walls of his apartment.

It took twenty for him to haul himself through his morning routine – water running somewhere in the distance and porcelain clattering against marble countertops as he washed his face and tried to work some life into himself. Alhaitham usually wasn’t so lethargic, but he’d had a rough week. There’d been a sudden influx of paperwork for the Akademiya’s sole scribe, and every second he didn’t spend buried under new legislation and requests for increased budging was, instead, dedicated to one of his many personal research projects. By the time he’d gotten home last night, it’d been all he could do to make sure you hadn’t starved to death and drag himself to bed.

He usually would’ve kept you waiting for a few more minutes, but an agitated grunt marked an end to his normal patterns. In a moment, he was braced against the doorway to his own study, his eyes narrowed half-hearted towards where you sat in his leather-padded chair, your feet propped on his desk. There was an book open in your lap – one of his, something about metaphysics and ley line abnormalities and how both tied into the Inazuman politics. He eyed it wearily before speaking, his voice still deep with exhaustion. “Where did you put my hearing aids?”

His tone was accusatory, his irritation visible. You put on your sweetest smile. “Where did you put my novellas?” you signed, thinking for a moment before adding, “Bitch?”

“They aren’t ‘novellas’, they’re—” He cut himself off with a scoff. “They’re filth. I don’t want you rotting your brain with smut.”

“The plots are very—”

“The plots are half-baked excuses for paper-thin characters to fondle each other in locations you can tell the author didn’t take the time to properly research and—” His gaze flickered to you, his frown deepening. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“You’ve read them?”

There was a long beat of silence.

Finally, he let out a labored sigh. “The dozen or so I couldn’t be bothered to throw away are in a cabinet underneath the kitchen sink. It’s locked – the code is your birthday. Now, where are my aids?”

“You fell asleep with them on last night,” you said aloud, abandoning his glorified textbook and pushing yourself to your feet. His hand shot to the side of his head, finding the metallic cuff only slightly displaced by having spent the better half of the night on his head. As you passed him, you paused, pressing a kiss into the corner of his scowl and pretending to ignore the muffled groan he let out in response.

Neuvillette

Of all the sights you thought you might see after arriving in your wonderous new nation, the Iudex of Fontaine standing over your drained bathtub with a look of potent remorse written across his expression was not one of them.

You’d imagined yourself strolling through the walls of the Opera Epiclese in vivid detail, been able to picture exactly what you might’ve seen standing below the Tower of Ipsissimus or above the bottomless pit that was the entrance to the Fortress of Meropide, but even after you’d found yourself in the smothering care of Monsieur Neuvillette, you never would’ve been able to conjure this sight. He usually insisted that you bathe together, going so far as to have an in-ground tub that could’ve easily been mistaken for a hot spring installed in his (until recently neglected) personal residence to better indulge the habit. Thankfully, the trial he’d been presiding over had run long today, and you’d been able to save yourself an hour of his calloused hands running over your body, of his eyes burning into your skin with a nearly inhuman focus. You knew he’d be disappointed. Irate, even, depending on how his trial swung.

You hadn’t expected him to be so… sulky about it.

Half-lidded eyes, a slight pout tugging at the corner of his lips as he lingered idly in the doorway between your shared bedroom and the in-suite bathroom. Steam and silence laid heavy in the air – the latter you were eventually forced to break as you fiddled with the hem of your robe. “I’m sorry,” you muttered, hoping more to break the tension than to make him think you were genuinely apologetic. “It was getting late, and I didn’t know when you were coming home. I didn’t think you’d take it so personally.” When he didn’t respond, you braced yourself for the worst. “If you’re angry, please say so. I… I’d rather get this over with now, if it’s all the same to you.”

His expression softened. He let out an airy sigh and, with only a moment of hesitation, closed the space between you. “I’m not angry.” A pair of lean arms wrapped around your waist, his face soon buried in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale, and did what you could to suppress the shudder that ran up your spine at the thought of him basking in your scent. “I’ve just been… looking forward to it, I suppose. Your taste relaxes me.”

Immediately, you went rigid. “My… taste?”

“Mhm.”

“Neuvillette,” you started, very slowly, giving your own mind time to catch up to the dread slowly building in the pit of your stomach. “Have you been drinking my bathwater?”

He was quiet for a not inconsiderable amount of time.

Finally, he pulled away from you just far enough to speak. “…no?”

For your own sake, you decided to believe him.

Kaveh

“Kaveh.”

“Not now, treasure.”

“Go to bed.”

“I will, in another hour.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“I’ve already told you – I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes, expression contorted by concentration. “Knight to B4.”

“Kaveh,” you repeated, leaning across the table. “You were showing me your blueprints.”

“Oh.” He blinked several times, looking over the sheet of blue paper marked with chalk drawings and near indecipherable hand-writing. “Were you impressed?”

Your frown irked, but you swallowed back your exasperation and pushed yourself to your feet. Slowly, you took him by the hand and, when he failed to protest, guided him out of his own seat and towards the room you were usually restrained to, when he wasn’t home. He’d kept himself awake for the past two nights, every moment of the past forty-eight hours devoted to finishing his proposal for a wealthy commissioner’s summer mansion before its upcoming deadline and, now that the coffee had been drained from his system and his adrenaline had been given time to fade, he was practically a shell of a man – all dark circles and hunched posture and disheveled blonde hair.

Sleep deprivation was, by far, the worst thing he could inflict on himself. At least he was happy after he drunk himself into oblivion. This was just depressing; as miserable for him as it was for you.

With a dutifulness you shouldn’t have had to show to your lover-turned-stalker-turned-captor, you brought him to his bed and watched as he collapsed onto it, what little strength he had to hold himself up immediately dissolving. With a sigh, a roll of your eyes, you turned to leave, but a hand lashed out from the crumpled heap and caught you by the wrist. “Stay with me?” His voice was muffled by layers of sheets and blankets, but clear enough. “Please?”

Usually, his bids for affection were met with bitter neutrality or, on your worse days, spiteful condensation. Usually, you would’ve torn yourself out of his hold and made sure he knew that he’d ruined any chance of living out his little domestic fantasy the second he decided his obsession was worth more than your happiness. Usually, you would’ve hated him that much more for daring to ask.

But, he could barely hold his eyes open and when you failed to immediately recoil, the sloppiest, most lovesick smile you’d ever seen plastered itself across his lips. It was his turn to pull you forward, this time; to drag you onto his bed and into his chest. With a satisfied sigh, he slotted his chin against the dip of your shoulder and draped his arms around your waist – an old position. A relic of better times you’d never been strong enough to completely dicard. “When it’s time to draw up the plans for our home,” he mumbled, only half-audible. “I won’t so much as breathe until its perfect.”

You opened your mouth, but didn’t say anything.

He’d already fallen asleep.

Tighnari

He glanced once at the thick packet of ink-marked parchment you’d slammed in front of him before looking back to you, his expression disparaging. “And this is supposed to be…?”

“A custody agreement,” you answered, grinning. “Alhaitham put it together during his last visit.”

“We don’t have any kids.”

“It’s for Collei. If I ever leave you,” and, to be clear, you would be leaving him, as soon as you figured out how to get away from a man who poisoned your tea whenever you so much as suggested entertaining a future that didn’t include him, “I want weekends and summers.”

“She’s nineteen.”

“Which is why we’re letting her pick who she wants to spend holidays with.” You tapped the front page with your knuckles. “Honestly, dear, if you weren’t going to so much as read the documents, we could’ve scheduled this for another day.”

His ears twitched, his tail sweeping across the floor in irritation. “Even if this was legally binding – which, by the way, something assembled by a scribe would not be – I would never give you weekends. That’d be too much travelling for a girl in her condition, and I don’t want her to feel like she comes from a broken home. Moreover, according to Regulation #531 as passed by the Grand Sage last year, you would have to get Collei’s signature before—”

“Check page twenty-seven.”

You watched him scowl as he thumbed through the pages. A second later, his ears flattened against his scalp, and he took to muttering under his breath. “Traitor.”

“If you don’t want your aggression towards the dependent party used against you in court, I’d suggest you sign on page four, seventeen, and thirty-two.”

You left his villa half an hour later with a with a new imprint of his fangs on the side of your throat and a signed document in-hand.

Cyno

“You have kidnapped me.”

“Technically, I was only—”

“You’ve blackmailed me, imprisoned me, and tortured me.”

“You can’t still be hung up on—”

“You’ve branded me with your name, forced me into your bed, and made me play out all your delusional, fucked-up fantasies—” You took a deep breath, pursed your lips. “—but if you show up to a black-tie event wearing that, it will be the worst thing you’ve ever done to me.”

He looked down, as if considering his attire for the first time. He was in his usual uniform – which was to say, shirtless and barefoot, his hair windblown and a fine layer of sand still coating what little he was wearing. You could only be thankful his polearm wasn’t slung across his back, but you knew he’d make it past the door without it. “The way I dress has never been a problem before.”

“There’s a difference between hunting down rouge scholars and going to a banquet being held by a literal god. Archons, Lesser Lord Kusanali herself might be there.” You gasped, dragged your hands over your face. “Everyone who’s ever gone to the Akademiya will absolutely be there.”

For all his many faults, he could never stand to see you in pain. There was a brief delay, a moment of unsure shuffling, then his arms were wrapping around you, his chest slotting against your back has he pulled you against him. “It’ll be alright,” he muttered, speaking into your shoulder. “If anyone so much as attempts to insult you—no, if anyone tries to talk to you at all, I’ll strike them down in the blink of an eyes.”

His comfort was stale, but you forced yourself to relax. At least enough to speak. “You know,” you mumbled, letting your hands drift to your temples. “Dehya was hired by an up-and-coming scholar, a few weeks ago. I’m not sure how long her contract was, but there’s a chance we’ll see her tonight.”

There was a beat of silence, then another.

“Cyno?”

“I’ll change.”

Wriothesley

You could hear him trudging up the metallic stairs to his office; his footsteps heavy enough to drown out the soft music flowing out of his century-old gramophone. His head emerged from the curving staircase, first – his hair somehow more disheveled than its usual state of barely-tamed chaos – then his chest, his tie undone and his collar terribly mangled, as if he’d spent all day indulging the worst of his nervous habits. He was baring his teeth, his pale cheeks flushed with anger and his eyes narrowed into a pointed glare. It wasn’t quite the reaction you’d hoped for (in your wildest dreams, he would’ve managed to sink his beloved fortress before he ever reached you), but it was close enough.

You moved to stand, to greet him with the warm embrace he usually demanded, but he was already in front of you, already pinning you to the back of the lounge you’d been splayed across with a single fist planted less than a hair’s width above your shoulder. “You,” he growled, leaning in close enough for his breath to fan over your skin. “Do you know how many journalistsI had to deal with today? They were everywhere. I couldn’t go a step without tripping over some— over some glorified tabloid.”

“So, your meeting with Monsieur Neuvillette went well?” His scowl deepened, and you let out your most faux innocent laugh – a chiming, bubbling thing he’d never been able to stand. “You shouldn’t scowl like that, love. All those photographers will have to find a new model if you manage to give yourself frown lines.”

He jolted, but forced himself to shut his eyes, to let out a long, ragged breath. When he did face you again, he’d regained a degree of his composure – just enough to meet your smile with his own tight-lipped grin, more teeth than anything. “I’ll let you off easy if you tell me how you did it now. Before I decide it’d be faster to strangle an explanation out of you.”

“I didn’t break any rules, if that’s what you’re worried about.” You paused, folded your hands over your lap. “It was all thanks to our great and benevolent duke. Contacting people outside of the fortress has gotten so much more efficient ever since you decided prisoners should be able to send letters without administrative vetting.”

He buckled visibly, his shoulders falling as he lean towards you, his face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.” There was a raspy chuckle, a hand on your thigh, squeezing just hard enough for his anger to shine through the playfulness of the gesture. “I think I’ve earned the rest of the day off, and I think you’ve earned—”

The door to his office swung open before he could finish, a masculine voice calling up from the voice below only a moment later. “Your grace, t-there’s a reporter here to see you! She says she’s been told not to leave until she speaks to your partner!”

“That’ll be Charlotte,” you half-sung. “She seemed like such a nice girl in her letters. It’d be a shame to keep her waiting.”

When he failed to answer, you brought up both hands and cupped his face, cooing as you used your thumbs to quirk the corners of his mouth upward.

“Just remember to smile for the camera this time, alright?”

[muletia]

PLS PLS PLS PLS

I'M ON MY KNEES

PLEASE MAKE A STORY WHERE Y/N COMES BACK TO THEIR HOUSE, TIRED FROM WORK AND SUDDENLY SEES OPTIMUS AND MEGATRON OILED UP UNDER THEIR CHRISTMAS TREE 🙏🙏🙏

damn, i wish they would spawn under my christmas tree 😔

𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐩 𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

cw: shitpost, crack, cliffhanger (this is never getting a part 2 btw)

word count: 425

You already knew they had invited themselves into your house. The open garage and the doors ripped off their hinges told you everything. Just like the two voices, perfectly familiar to you, coming from the living room—voices you’re still happy to hear. Despite your exhaustion, despite the overwhelming need to collapse onto your bed and fall into a week-long coma, though knowing your guests, that likely won’t be an option.

You’re expecting a classic greeting: sharp dentae on your neck, gentle servos stroking your hand, apologies for their partner’s lack of tact and directness. But what you find in the living room exceeds all your expectations.

"Greetings, dearest."

"You’re later than usual."

You don’t even register their greetings, your attention entirely focused on the two revered leaders kneeling before your Christmas tree. That in itself wasn’t unusual—you’d seen them in less dignified positions. What struck you the most was the meters of tape adorned with a kitschy Christmas pattern wrapped around them. From their necks to their thighs, it clung haphazardly, betraying their lack of skill in handling the task. They had no clue how to make it look seductive rather than tacky. And maybe you could have bought into it—if not for the red and purple bows affixed to their thighs, dangerously close to their pelvises, on their armor, just under their necks, and smack in the middle of their chassis. To make things even more intriguing: Megatron wore red bows, and Optimus purple.

"How did you… where did you…" you start, but when the silver mech smiles, you abandon the question. "You know what, I don’t even want to know..."

You rub your temples as your brain struggles to catch up, while your eyes continue scanning. Especially their armor, which gleamed exceptionally today, looking pristine. As if it were coated with something…

"Did you two oil yourselves up with something?"

"Merry Christmas, [Name]," Optimus smiles gently. The mech beside him wasn’t nearly as angelically patient.

"Are you going to unwrap your gifts already, or are we going to keep wasting time?"

"You know what, I think I’ll wait until tomorrow," you decide to tease them a bit. Now it’s your turn to smile as you see their confused expressions.

"You wouldn’t dare…" Megatron growls.

He starts to squirm, threatening to snap the cute ribbon.

"Alright, alright, calm down…" you sigh. You’d already said goodbye to the dream of your long-awaited nap.

You walk over to them and begin toying with the bows on their chassis.

"I couldn’t have wished for better Christmas gifts."