#like never before has the year been this level of just. Black Fucking Hole

[crimeronan]

my memory and health are so bad these days that it honestly feels like 2022 didn't happen. like i got into some new media in 2022 but aside from that i feel completely unchanged as a person. which is especially weird bc there's a lot that i know Intellectually happened this past year, but i barely recall & don't really.... feel it. i remember january of 2022 very clearly and things get real muddy after that, especially past june. which is to say that with how i perceive time, even Accounting for how every year naturally feels faster than the last for everybody, i'm like..... like i feel like i just went to sleep in january 2022 and now i'm awake and stretching and yawning and going "phew, rough year, huh? i am SO glad i wasn't around for it! but let's make this one super awesome and memorable everybody 💕"

[vampykween]

real love

simon ghost riley x f!reader this is just porn tiny bit of plot tbh apologies for the abrupt end, but i could not for the life of me finish this all the way through ugh

You're not sure if your husband is trying to kill you; he looks devilishly handsome in the black button-up he's wearing - which he's conveniently left three buttons open on - and the woodsy notes of his cologne have you feeling inappropriately hot for the lively restaurant you two are in.

Simon’s lips are on yours as soon as you two cross the threshold. He his large palms roaming the expanse of your back until he cups your ass and squeezes the round flesh. You moan into his mouth which is hastily swallowed up when Simon sweeps his tongue into your mouth, sending a rush of heat straight to your core. Simon always kisses you like he's trying to simultaneously devour you and convey all the love he has for you.

He unexpectedly pulls away from you and shakes his head, “don’t wanna get too carried away love, I have a surprise for you. But trust, any other day and I’d rip this fuckin’ dress off and have my way with you right here. You look fuckin’ sinful.”

You blush at your husband’s words, somehow you think you’ll never get used to the way he talks about you, like you truly are the greatest gift he’s ever received. You remember that he said he had a surprise for you, but before you have time to question any further, he’s taking your hand and leading you towards your shared bedroom. He stops in front of the closed door and has on, what you perceive to be, a sheepish look on his face. What could possibly have your normally cocky and confident husband feeling insecure?  

“Baby, whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it. I love anything you do for me, you know that,” you try and ease Simon’s nerves if only momentarily. He nods curtly and opens the bedroom door, and you gasp, raising your hand to cover your mouth. Tears began to pool in your eyes, “Simon- I- What’s all this for?” you can believe the sight in front of you. There are a multitude of light candles spread out on the surfaces in the room, creating a romantic aura that’s coupled with the vase of your favorite flowers on your nightstand.

You turn towards him in disbelief, not that Simon being romantic was completely out of the ordinary, but you simply weren’t expecting him to do all this. He pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head lovingly, “Been a year since the best day of my life, I say that’s something worth going all out for.” Now it was your turn to shake your head at him, you both had agreed that you didn’t need to do anything crazy for your anniversary, just being with each other every day when that wasn’t guaranteed was a gift in and of itself. He had already taken you out to dinner at the fancy place downtown you had been wanting to eat for forever, even bought you a luxurious dress for the occasion.

“You’re too good to me Simon Riley,” you convey your sentiment with another kiss and lead him towards the bed. Simon takes him time peeling your clothes off and kisses ever bare inch of skin revealed to him.

“You’re so beautiful love, I can’t believe I get to spend my life loving you.” He trails down until he’s kneeling eye level with your pussy. You run your finger through his blonde strands, which were starting to get rather shaggy something you loved. You’ve never met a guy like Simon before, a man who was content with simply pleasing and worshipping you. You’re brought out of your reverie by hid tongue circling your clit delicately and your grip in his hair tightens. Your husband alternates between lapping at your clit and sweeping his tongue through your wet folds and prodding at your tight hole. His fingers join soon after and he’s thrusting his thick digits into you slowly but deep enough that is has you seeing stars.

“Okay, Si, I’m good. Baby I need you to fuck me,” you whine desperately. You normally can’t resist Simon, but when he’s looking angelic between your legs with warm candlelight flickering across his face; you’ve never felt so riled up in your life.

Simon groans into your slick cunt, clearly in disagreement with what you said. He pulls away swiftly, “You can be patient, my love. Let me take my time with you. I want you to cum on my face, before I fuck you with my cock, yeah.”

You concede simply because he's making you feel so good you can’t really even complain. Your husband was clearly on a mission now though, the pace of his fingers picking up and he sucks your clit into his mouth so fervently that when you come it hits you like a freight train. You cry out as your legs shake and Simon doesn’t let up, continuing his ministrations until you pat the side of his face, your signal for when you can’t take anymore when takes you apart like this.

"Can't tap out now, love. I'm not finished with you yet." God, even after all these Simon Riley was proving to be the death of you.

[victimdog]

Getting asked to stay behind after first class, watching him lock the door and pull the blinds down, so you automatically get down on your knees. You know the routine when it comes to men.

He looks at you confused, angry.

"What, you've done this before?"

You nod, frowning.

He kicks you in the stomach before you can even begin to stand up, holding you up by your hair afterwards so you have to look at him and can't curl into a ball on the floor.

"Who? Some stupid boy in your year?"

You shake your head. You can still feel the cum dripping into your underwear from when your dad raped you this morning. His hand suddenly relaxes and he lets go of your head, sinking down into a squat so he's eye level with you.

"Hey, don't cry. You can tell me. I'm a mandatory reporter, you know... If someone is hurting you, you have to tell me so I can tell the authorities."

His sudden change in attitude makes you freeze, eyes wide with confusion and fear. You stare into his eyes, shaking like a dog. You realise that his hand has been groping your boob since he came down to your level but you hadn't even noticed. He squeezes once, hard enough to make you flinch and turn your head. His hand is in your hair again as quick as lightning, yanking your head back around to look at him.

"Um, yeah... My dad... We... You know, yeah... Please don't tell the police..."

Your voice stutters uncontrollably as his hand gets tighter and tighter in your hair, the rage and pain visible on his face.

"Do you know how long I've waited for you? And what, you go and let yourself get fucked by that ugly old bastard? I bet he didn't even have to make you!"

His grip releases on your hair and he stands up, taking a step backwards. His fists are balled at his side like an angry teenager.

You sit, bringing your knees up to your chest, staring at him evenly. You think about screaming for help, but that never did you any good against your dad, or any of his friends. Your tears have stained the collar of your white school shirt because of the mascara you're not supposed to be wearing.

He fishes around in his bag until he pulls something long and thin out, throwing it in your direction. It's a pregnancy test and a plastic cup. You look up at him, confused for a moment, before he rolls his eyes.

"Do it. Right now."

You blink at him.

"Yes, right here. Pee into the cup and dip it in. I don't want to touch your disgusting body if you're pregnant."

Tears start to form in your eyes again, hot and embarrassed. You don't want to pee in front of your teacher. You'd sooner just bend over and let him rape you like every other guy, why is he being so weird?

He starts to walk towards you again, threat implied, and you quickly stand, backing into the desk behind you. You start to pull down your tights and underwear, squatting down over the cup, trying to ignore the fact that he's rubbing his bulge through his pressed work trousers.

The pregnancy test is negative.

He seems ecstatically relieved by this, taking both of your hands in his, looking directly into your eyes with glittering love.

He wipes a black tear from the side of your eye, and the next thing you know your head is hitting the side of the desk and bouncing off. You thud onto the wooden floor, the room spinning in endless circles as you feel hands tugging your skirt above your waist.

You can't do anything but lay there in shock as you hear his belt unbuckling, the rustle of his trousers hitting the ground. He loops the belt around your neck, his bulge pressing into your ass as his entire body is suddenly on top of you. He's at least twice your weight and over a foot taller than you, so the breath is immediately knocked from your lungs. He doesn't pull the belt taut, so you assume it's there as a threat- for now at least.

He leans down so his voice is next to your ear, rubbing the head of his dick against your holes, as if he's deciding which one.

"you don't have to worry anymore baby, I'm going to save you from him... Just relax!"

He tries to shove his dick in in one go but you're still swollen and painful from earlier, so you end up squealing and trying to jerk away. This seems to really, really piss him off because you immediately feel the belt tighten around your neck.

"I'm not above killing you, you know? You either calm the fuck down and I'll make you my wife like you were born to be, or you can keep freaking out for no reason and make me have to kill you. It's your choice."

Your whole world is swimming from lack of oxygen already and you weakly nod. He slides his hands under your hips and pulls you into a face-down-ass-up position, massaging his tip against your hole again. You try to relax by disassociating, staring at the educational posters on the wall in front of you.

The belt tightens again as he slowly sinks into your cunt. He lets out a breathless moan and within seconds he's pounding away as hard as he can. The posters blur into a watercolour painting as he shoves your face into the cold, dirty ground, dropping the belt altogether so he can wrap your hair around his fist again.

"Fuck, fuck that's tight... Holy shit... I can't wait to take you home..."

His other arm wraps around your neck, making you feel like your spine is going to snap in two.

"Take it, take it... You fucking bitch! I was supposed to take your virginity, me! Not him!"

He lets go of your hair to start punching the back of your head repeatedly. The room starts to spin again, though you're not sure if it's from lack of oxygen or borderline brain damage at this point. He pulls both arms away from your head and neck to grab onto your tits as he starts to cum, grunting into your ear as he shoves it as deep as he can.

"Fuck, god... I can't wait to watch you drop out of school to grow my baby..."

You sob into the ground, and feel his dick twitch inside you. You have a feeling this isn't going to be over for a few hours.

[swallowtailed]

palisade 25 !!!!!!!

you know, i don’t think it was until the very end, when the title theme came back in (and, god, i love that song), that i actually thought: they did it. phrygian won. the sun’s gonna rise on palisade tomorrow—and on every other planet in the galaxy. mechanically, narratively, the crew had all the cards and they played them damn well. a change is gonna come. it’s already here. they won.

i was initially thinking about reading this arc as a story about death and rebirth. that’s a big part of it, but the question the pcs actually face is: are they willing to confront the possibility of their own deaths to fight for the future they dream of? (figure before the cadent, phrygian and authority—hell, trying to take down the combustor in the first place.) and that wouldn’t necessarily be the crucial question, except for the fact that the empire has pushed them and itself to that point. the divine principality uses death and destruction to prevent radical change and possibility. but the blue channel (palisade, the cause, millennium break) envision the future and set out toward it, going hand in hand with their own deaths, their own lives. and they fucking win. it’s just a really good opposition.

and on the note of rebirth, figure’s new class and new look (and new ghost pal) are fantastic. really cool to see that choice framed as a stance on their relationship to power and care, and also obviously the perennial aesthetic whips. (i did think at first that their mech’s transformation was a “congrats on the new playbook” present. u know, black hole themed mech.)

also, literally ever since meeting perennial i’ve been thinking, uh, she doesn’t seem evil or chaotic or imperial, she seems really cool actually? and i am SO PLEASED to be right. she doesn’t turn the wheel, she knows the wheel turns and she wants to break it!!! (which is perfect for figure—third chances, breaking cycles.) also there’s something from an earlier faction ep that has stuck with me—perennial wants to go home, whatever/wherever that is, but she can never go home… the wheel turns in one direction, huh? anyway, i’m really, really excited to see more of perennial in the back half of palisade :):):)

and phrygian. i loved their ending, genuinely—even though the fact of their loss was so expected as to be barely discussed (which felt a little hollow), they still got that stunning victory at the very end. their ten-thousand-year plan: all forty-one hundred stellar combustors going out like so many candles. (permanently, on a narrative level, because phrygian won that. their legacy is safe.) and to see the final roll come together—this arc was also about the power of friendship, okay, and that particularly includes help rolls and crew rolls, and realizing in the essential moment that you literally cannot lose even though you’re gambling with stars and planets. it’s just… it’s such a good win.

also pleased to have an answer to my question of how they were gonna manage tension between the two plotlines: just be extremely silly on the sun plot! and stand at the precipice of the narrative as a team. truly i do admire this table’s approach to storytelling. 

and i am so, so excited—not just for the next faction turn and the next downtime—but for everything that comes next in palisade and the divine cycle as a whole. it’s gonna be good.

[incrediblyaccuratethoughts]

So, Danny's not a complete idiot.

Yeah, his grades say otherwise but he's always been a street-smarts kinda guy and well. It shows.

With this in mind, he knows something's up with the Waynes. They're a nice family, super great and supportive. They actually check up on him, provide meals and snacks that don't try to attack him, and let him live in their house rent-free. The manner is nice and it doesn't do its best to kill him all-the-way-dead every time he uses the front door, and best of all, they don't drag him down to a creepy basement lab every time he shows a little liminality.

Actually, most of them are liminals themselves. Not half-ghost levels, but definitely of the probably-died-but-came-back variety.

He fits right in, really.

The thing is, the longer he stays with the Waynes, the more he realizes that this family is a little suspicious. Especially what Danny's loving named their 'After Hours Excursions'.

Aka: when half the house disappears into the night on a rotating schedule and comes back a little worse for wear.

Now, Danny's not one to judge, he's done some sketchy shit himself, but with the seemingly endless supply of money, the unspoken hierarchy of a family dynamic, and the quite frankly concerning amount of weapons being carried on a particular 11-year-old, Danny has theories.

He's 85% sure that they're a mob.

It just makes sense, okay? He's connected the dots. And the dots don't lie.

But they let him live his boring little civilian life in peace, have fed and cared for him in their own ways for weeks, and have never once approached him about joining the more violent part of the family business.

That's better treatment than Danny got from both his parents and Vlad combined, so Danny's content to stay.

(After all, he can always disappear if he needs to get the hell out of dodge. He'd miss the little rag-tag family he'd made himself a home in, but he's lost one family, and he can leave another one behind if he has to.)

So when Danny gets kidnapped by some wannabe clown fucker, he goes a little apeshit.

Yeah, he could have waited for bail -or whatever rich people call paying for their loved ones to be returned safely- but this Eggplant-Looking-Motherfucker is going on about how he beat one of the Robins to death and how Danny's similar in stature and hair color. He's raving about what expression will be on Batman's face when he finds Danny in the same state.

Yeah, fuck that.

Danny's been careful to keep as much of a lid on his ghost half as he can get away with so far, but this Disgrace of a Color Pallet -seriously, who pairs lime green and purple in a suit of all things- is getting on his last fucking nerve.

So, with a shit-eating grin, he lets his eldritch form unfurl from his human body like an origami star unfolding to reveal a truly horrifying inner demon.

He's gonna have to be careful about how he does this. He doesn't want to draw any unwanted attention to himself, but he's also a 16-year-old and he deserves a little revenge.

As a treat.

The blood drains from the various goon's faces as Danny's form grows, but Lipstick-For-Days looks up at Danny's towering form of too many electric green eyes, iridescent horns and claws sharpened to a point, and contactly changing shape, reminiscent of a black hole, and looks utterly delighted.

Oh hell no, Danny's not dealing with another crazy fanatic. He had two of those for parents thankyouverymuch. 0/10 would not recommend. And though they were against his entire existence, this look of adoration is somehow worse.

He swipes his iridescent claws at the lackeys surrounding Opposite-Of-A-Spray-Tan, knocking them over like bowling pins. None of them get back up, and Danny knows they're not dead, but he feels a streak of vindictive pleasure at the ease with which he took them to the ground after the rough treatment they'd given him, dragging him here.

He turns his attention back to Color-Inverted-Pennyworth-The-Clown, noting the minor hesitation before the man charges, cackling madly.

Danny picks up Hair-Could-Host-A-Grease-Fire by the back of his godawful suit, looks right into crazed eyes, and drops him.

The startled scream from Spirit-Halloween-Face-Makup is almost worth the hassle of getting kidnapped, but when the man doesn't move again, Danny's a little disappointed.

Yeah, this guy may be human -probably- but Danny had hoped for a bit of a fight.

Oh well, at least he can do his Algerba homework while he waits for the calvary to arrive.

Tag List:

@ultimatebluff @tiblii @hoddielord @gin2212 @thingsarenotgoingwell @epilepticnerd @starlightcat04 @amercurio @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff @xxmadamjinxx @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @vythika96 @therandomartmaker @kitty-page @dat1angel @thatonegaybitch68 @spikedlynx @crystalqueertea @stargirl1331 @yodeler12 @arken-99 @amyheart19 @genuine-muse @bianca-hooks123 @darkstarsapocalypse @the-legal-shipper @screechingnoises

So I’ve seen some posts going around about a ‘Bruce adopts Danny and everyone thinks they’ll finally have a normal family member—Danny is very not normal’ and here’s my late night take on it.

Or

Danny batfam au where they batfam tries really hard to keep their vigilante ass-kicking nightlife a secret from danny because he is ‘the only normal one in the family’ this becomes a problem however when danny gets kidnapped.

——-

The batfam all work together in a deeply serious family meeting to save their boy. After hours of combines their brains together they come up with a plan that will effectively save danny from joker, kick joker’s ass, and also make them look really cool while doing it.

So they bust in that warehouse, guns blazing, explosions fading in the background, a gust of dramatic dust covers the air

Batman steps infront of the rest of the team and demands to the blurry figure somewhere in the distance, “Where is Danny!”

The dust clears–they expect bad guys pointing weapons meancingly at them, they expect a cackle of a wicked clown amused at whatever plot he had planned coming to life, they expected a terrified boy perhaps tied somewhere likely siting in a chair that joker could present to the bats as a way of taunting them.

The dust settles–they observed their surroundings looking around and realize that, there are few new facts to be added into this ‘defeat the villain, get the bro, happy ending equation’

There is decidedly no weapons being pointed at them: In fact, all of the henchmen are already knocked out and tied up.

There is decidedly no evil laughs being echoed their way: In fact, the only noise that isnt coming from them is a light scritch scratch of a pencil

And there is decidedly no terrified little boy, there is a Danny however and he seems to be doing alright–actually scratch that.

Danny is doing wonders for the situation he’s in right now: In fact–

–Danny is sitting criss cross applesauce on-top a knocked out tied up Joker doing his algebra homework

The small blue eyed boy looks up at Batman's voice and visibly brightens, “Oh hey guys, I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jason says with the utmost of comprehension, “...what.”

“So hi, I’m kinda new to gotham so sorry about beating these guys up, I think they’re villains? I dunno, anyways if you could take care of these guys while I call an uber home that’d be great.”

Danny sends them a blinding smile which would've been adorable if there weren’t a massive pile of bodies he were casually walking away from.

As Danny nears the exit he looks over his shoulder to the baffled group of vigilantes and blinks

“Oh yeah one last thing,” Danny rubs the back of his neck nervously, “Could you guys not tell the Waynes about this.”

Damian speaks up for the rest of his frozen family, albeit hesitantly, “I do think they have already been alerted of your kidnapping.”

“Oh no that's fine.” Danny starts nervously, “It's more about me being the… fighter… in this situation. I was just adopted by them and they seem really nice, I don’t want to scare them away being all grrrr im a scary monster boy and i love to hurt people argh.”

“I don’t think they’d think you're a monster.” Tim adds quietly

“Eh, tell that to my birth parents–they went psycho on me. Like evil scientist psycho, it was not as awesome as the movies make it sound, having scientists for parents.” Danny says bittersweet as he admits with a shrug

There is a moment of silence as the batfamily reevaluate the adoption file that states Danny’s family before they passed were very good people–albeit a bit excentric.

Dick blurts out, “Where did you learn to fight?”

Danny sends him an anxious chuckle, “I actually started when I was fourteen–my town always ran into some trouble so I had to step up. It’s part of the reason I moved here actually. I really don’t want anything to do with that hero vigilante life anymore…” The boy puts his hands together in a pleading motion, “So please don’t tell The Waynes!”

Bewildered at the situation as a whole they nod in a daze

The boys eyes widen at their easy agreement and he grins, “Thank you so so much! I’ve got to go now, it’s way past my curfew. but you’ll probably see me again next time I get kidnapped–I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you guys with my family bye!”

And just like that Danny slips off into the night leaving behind a family who were so sure they finally found a normal addition to their pack.

Jason sighs looking forlornly at the spot Danny had previously been standing, “You could just never pick the just semi-mentally healthy normal kids could you?”

Bruce groans pinching his the bridge of his nose

[pathfall]

two | seven

I'm not old, except maybe in a relative sense, but I can tell you I genuinely never expected to live past the age of twenty-seven.

Not that it was a case of me intentionally offing myself, but I was maybe fourteen when I saw that specific post. Maybe you've seen it, maybe it's still making the rounds whenever someone -

I saw it when Amy Winehouse died at twenty seven and I'm not completely sure that it was something that particularly affected me, as I wasn't a big fan or anything but I heard "Valerie" for the first time at the highschool rock show, I fell in love with that song, moreso at that instance, because of cadence or tempo it was played at, honestly, just the performance I felt sent an electric current through the audience. Maybe it was just me but -

The post basically shows you a list of famous people, "legends" as the post would have it, who all died at around twenty-seven. Ah sorry, I just looked it up and its more than just a post, Rather than a post it's maybe more known to you as the twenty-seven club. I don't know why that post stirred something in me, I definitely wasn't old enough to know about bias or statistical significance... or maybe I was but simply had not been taught it at whatever level of maths I was taking and I think I pretty easily suspend disbelief, in general, all I know is that I also wanted to die at twenty seven.

It's a relatively common thing to mix causation and correlation and very human to seek patterns, though in this case you basically have to ignore almost every other person that was famous that died earlier or later because the data is so heavily in favor of "no... there's no 'curse' or phenomenon that takes the most talented or impactful of us before our time". Fair enough. But I didn't know that then, all I knew in my very bones was that I was talented and would be famous and impactful and loved and cherished and eventually, I hoped (for some morbid and maybe maudlin reason) that I would also be taken to wherever comes next at twenty seven.

the truth is, as you can probably guess... none of that came true.

I've always been obsessed with fame, and especially interested in my own; to fill some sort of hole that almost every person has in the place of self-love or self-respect. I want you to know I don't say this out of any self-pity I'm particularly aware but as an uncritical statement of my subjective feelings; I've always wanted to be loved by millions because I could never love myself. I wanted people to be proud of me because I could never be proud of myself - anything remotely resembling it repackaged into enough layers of irony or pseudo-irony that if I was able to transfer it to you, you would recognize it as shame. Because I was supposed to be better? Better than what AND WHO AND WHEN AND HOW GOD I'M SO FUCKING TIRED OF CHASING SOMETHING OR SOMEONE THAT DOESN'T EXIST. I wanted to be famous, because I thought that being famous meant being perfect in the eyes of enough people that I didn't have to look into my own eyes in the mirror to try to find anything resembling self-worth. All of this background :) to say that I'm twenty-seven, not famous, no major world impact and not dead (yet, for that last one). And I'm happy. Or at least I'm fine with that. I don't care if I become famous or become a "legend" whether that's while I'm alive or - a teacher asked me when I was ten whether I'd rather be like Van Gough or Britney Spears in terms of fame. Meaning, respectively, would I rather be famous after I died or while I was alive --

(I'm guessing "Toxic" wasn't as influential for people at her age - and we have to remember that this was early internet: we still felt that, I think at least, old model of popular fame being transient rather than something I'll eventually run into again on my TikTok "For You" page in a every couple of years: "Remember this?", in white text printed onto a black background as I watch Britney and her snake hang out and be sexy -- in my heart of hearts I knew 1 billion percent I'd rather be famous while I was alive, to be able to capitalize on it - clout, money, everything. What the fuck is the point of having it after you die? But I knew the right answer was Van Gough because, you know... "impact on art", "timelessness", "classic". The idea that you live on until the last time your name is spoken is one I've clinged onto when I've had sudden existential crises or were afraid of death and so its not hard to see why Van Gogh is an arguable answer but c'mon...

You respect Wozniak and Tesla so much once you dive deep into their stories, but at the end of the day... you want to live like Jobs or Edison. That's the goal.

Despite no longer particularly wanting to be famous, I would like to have any one of their impacts on the world, it's just that I'd also rather... benefit from it as much as possible -

dead. I do look over some parts of my life with regret, I do think I've only really started learning and understanding diligence, hard work, taking the initiative, pushing opportunities as far as they can take me, at the end of the day I don't particularly mind if I'm never particularly someone worth remembering outside of my immediate social circles.

billions of people have lived in this world. billions of first kisses have been shared, nights out spent roaring with laughter amongst friends, hugs holding both parents tight, proud art, inventions, community programs, businesses and more. all but a miniscule percent are remembered today. an even smaller amount en masse. of the billions of people, a scant few are remembered today.

but those billions did live. those events happened. at one moment time, in a specific place, there was absolute sheer radiant joy felt between two specific people laying side-by-side, telling each other "I love you" for the first time. and the fact that neither of them were famous, that neither of them would be remembered after their grandchildren passed didn't matter.

even without the memory of it being held, in that one frozen moment in time, it happened. in the span of their lifetime, they were. even after the last time your story is told, the last time your name is said. even after the last human draws their last breath, the last sentient species loses their sentience, the sun explodes, the earth is obliterated and whatever comes next comes...

you were. i was. and at some frozen moment in time, we were.

[pelle-ohlin]

2.6.23 ~ Build Yourself an Aquarium and Stick Your Head in It

Today is Jeremy’s birthday: Jeremy, the boy who never grew up, but somehow still managed to leave me for a 40 year old woman with two high school age children . . . 

I have nothing to say to him. He ruined my birthday last year. I drove him out of my house in a drunken rage the day before it and he never came back, save to pick up his stuff with his brother and grandparents in an awkward, hurried rush . , , I guess my birthday gift from him was that I was finally free. 

But does he really deserve the satisfaction of me saying “happy birthday” when he made my life hell for so many years, then left on such a sour note on what could have been the last happy birthday I ever had?

I’m not sure. Only tomorrow will tell. Because tomorrow, coincidentally, is also the day that my father is getting checked for some extremely weird and rare form of cancer.

I dreamed of my grandmother’s house last night. His mother . . . I dreamed that Jeremy was there with a short Asian girl who was his girlfriend or wife, and she planned to convert the house into an aquarium.

I made my dad laugh today. I told him about the dream, and I said about Jeremy, “Build yourself an aquarium and stick your head in it.” 

~

My life has been so convoluted and constricted by the black ink tendrils of misery and addiction for the past year that I can’t even remember half of what I’ve said or done. That relationship dragged on for 15 years . . . And it feels somehow that I lost ten years off my life. 

I feel as old as the decade. 10 years behind, or maybe even longer . . . Still just a kid desperate to grow up--free from the chains of that depressive, autistic weirdo (I’m one to talk)--but still trapped in a prison of my own making, with thicker bars than I could bash my head through in a thousand lifetimes.

Back when I went to Woodstock in November, I was filled with uncertainty and ready to leave. But now I look back on it so fondly . . . So much has changed that I feel sick to think of what tomorrow may bring.

My father was not what most people would define as “a good man” on a true level. By the standards of society, perhaps he was. I honestly couldn’t tell you. But all I know is that he gave me the ability to think critically and question society, even if it was through drowning in his own mistakes for all my life. Really, none of that matters at all right now, and probably never will again.

All I want, all I hope, is that I can have a few more years to really get to know him. 

I’m the type of person who struggles immensely with showing emotion in front of others, even behind a screen. I never used to be, but a lot has changed within me over the past few years. I’ve experienced so much loss, so much dissolution of what i believed was fundamental . . . 

Oh, how I wish I could go back ......... if only for an hour, knowing what I know now. But how sad it would be . . . I would probably just sit there and stare off and cry, just like I feel like doing now. But the tears will never come.

In the shower I stood there for minutes or maybe even half an hour, I couldn’t tell. And I cried so hard that I couldn’t even hear the sobs. I imagined Jesus Christ hanging naked and shameful, broken on the cross, wounds dragging him down from his wrists to his elbows cracking beneath the weight . . . 

And I understood how and why so-called Christians find solace in the fact that even the avatar of God himself suffers and dies. 

Oh, to reap the pain in the black holes of midnight again ... to taste the euphoria of true disconnection from the fucking mainframe . . . I would break my skull this very moment if it meant I could go back and undo the damage I’ve done, the pain I’ve caused myself and others. 

I never listened. I was always the smartest person in the room. I mean this both sarcastically and literally. People have been giving me horrible advice for all my life, and for all my life I’ve been following it. 

I was finally on the right track, but then I lost momentum because I fell for the trap of a “traditional job” after I already broke the mold. Then the divorce happened, and since then it’s been nothing but shit. Good moments are speckled within the slime pits of torment, but they’re few and far between--but I I thought I knew suffering a week ago, and holy fucking hell was I wrong.

My father told me to finish my book today for the first time in . .. my entire life. My mother gave me a ring that belonged to my grandmother, made of my birthstone, shaped in the formation of the demon star in the throne of Ovium. 

I wonder if my father ever knew about my black metal project. One time he said something weird to me, mildy amused, like, “I heard you wanted to make a band.”

I used to be so good at playing guitar. I could trem pick so fast not even carpel tunnel could catch me. But now I’m dead, and not in the good way. Gutted and vivisected like at Unit 731, but there’s nothing gained from the seething agony. It isn’t even interesting. The screams aren’t even articulate.

It’s a private spectacle--one enjoyed only by fellow sad clowns on the fringes of reality, like you out there, lonely and weird enough to make it to the end of this post.

~

Since these take a significant amount of time and energy to write I’m going to start adding this to these personal posts. It will most likely just be a copy-paste of the following message. But I know some of you have followed me for endless years, so . . .

Over the past year I’ve ruined my life through gambling addiction, stupid decisions, mental illness, addiction, and other bullshit. I used to be a somewhat prolific writer. I’ve seen it all. From science fiction pulps to Fortune 100 companies, I’ve met people you wouldn’t believe, and struck them down too . . . But even though I’ve had opportunities that most people could only dream of, my finances are fucked beyond repair. So if you happen to be a rich weirdo/Illuminati bloodline/alien hacktivist, feel free to send me some money. 

I used to be a black metal musician too. Maybe someday I will be again. This is all I can offer you in return: https://wormheart-black-metal.bandcamp.com/album/wings-of-a-celestial

Venmo: https://account.venmo.com/u/StarlessImperium

bitcoin: 1JXXTKdsx7qUbjDRDiRmzDd5RTmpxeUDC6

If you want physical Wormheart CDs or signed letters, send me a private message.

I will not gamble the money. I will use it to rebuild my life and break the chains I strangled myself with. If you have the power to help me, give me one last chance. 

[gogogoat495]

[Image ID: Discord message by new nintendo(nt) dsi reading "the thing that really Fucks Me Up about davesprite is,,, hes the original dave. hes /the/Dave Strider we were originally introduced to in the comic. He's /the/ guy, /the/ 'real dave'. and then. and then his best friend dies (because he wont listen to dave) and his /other/ best friend dies as a result, and hes left alone with just his sister, in a timeline he /knows/ cant last long. he /knows/ he has to go back eventually -- but going back would mean completely erasing his sister, the one person he had left. if john and jade's deaths weren't his fault, rose's sue as hell would be. if it was the trolley problem, john and jade were killed because he didnt want to change tracks, but rose (and by extension /himself/) were killed because he had to pull the lever.

and yeah actually can we talk about that? can we talk about how not only did he kill rose -- his sister and his last remaining friend -- but he effectively killed /himself/ by travelling back to the original timeline. he doomed himself trying to save his friends, and he would have /known/ that. the /only/ way he wouldve been allowed to keep on existing in the original timeline is by becoming a sprite -- aka becoming an NPC, nothing more than a game construct. he isnt a real person anymore. he isnt 'dave'. hes a tutorial character. hes the guy that does the meaningless tasks the real players dont want to go. hes 'depressed bird dave', 'orange feathery douche dave'. hes davesprite. not his original name. not even a /real/ name. just a title. and as if all that shit wasnt bad enough, no one cares about him! his only function now is to help guide the players by giving htem information about the game, information theyve complained about not getting from their sprites before and information he /directly says he can just give to them, no bullshit/ -- and they dont! they completely ignore him as a sprite, and they completely ignore him as a real person. hes not 'the real dave' so who cares about him right? why talk to him when you have the real version right there? and this isnt even me shitting on the other kids, because they were literally /just kids/. they were thirteen. dave was /thirteen/ when he voluntarily sacrificed himself and his identity to save his friends -- how the hell are you supposed to acknowledge that? how the hell do you acknowledge /him/ -- a literal physical representation of just how far your friend group will go for each other? its easier to just… not do that. fuck, he seems to know that -- even though he dates jade on the battleship trip, he constantly acts like an asshole to her and john to drive them away, which he literally /SAYS/ is because they deserve 'the real dave', not him. and it works!! also can we talk about him and jadesprite. were talking about him and jadesprite. imagine /finally/ finding someone who gets it, who understands exactly what youre doing through and how you feel about it in a way that you could never say -- and then suddenly, theyre gone. sure, theyve been fused into one of your best friends, and theyre technically still there, but they dont /get/ it anymore. no one does. its just another level of isolation this poor kid has to go through and im. god

and as if it wasnt bad enough that none of his friends really care about, the fucking narrative doesnt either!! you know what he does after being prototyped? he fights bec noir, gets his wing torn off, and thats it. for /three fucking years/ (in universe -- i dont even KNOW how long it was real time) thats all he does, and when he finally has an important role to play again? its being fused with someone else. the only time he gets to be narratively important is when /he literally becomes an entirely new person/ -- and even then, that narrative importance is just dragging the big bad into a black hole on a suicide mission! fuck man!! hes been fucked over turn after turn and being dealt just the worst fucking hands (this isnt even touching the Bro shit that he and regular dave have. i could fill multiple /pages/ on his unique flavour of bro shit and how supremely fucked up and sad it is but i wont. youre welcome) and he literally never catches a break and never gets thanked and never has his efforts acknowledged -- hw just loses what little shreds of identity he has left and fucking /dies/. GOD i hate this comic" /End ID]

past me was onto something here actually

[softnoirr]

bestie you once mentioned offhand an au of pdd where christen sleeps with alex and it has stayed in my head ever since - what would be the context! when! does tobin find out! hit me with your thoughts if you’re into it, I love a rare pair!!

I do vaguely remember saying that but I also cannot find it so everything I'm saying now could totally contradict what I said then but. I think like. if C's relationship to T (not with her but towards her) is based in feelings of grief and anger then her relationship to Alex is much more acidic. They do have a lot of history but most of it is just time spent in the same vicinity of each other, coldly ignoring one another, sharing friends and being jealous. So I feel like them hooking up would be a much more viscous overflow but also much less weighted for them.

Probably it would be one of them getting the role the other wanted in studio company and having sex about it. If it was an ongoing thing I could see it being a moment after a Grand Prix where one of them won and the other messed up—probably with a lot of goading and also I do believe in this AU Alex is the kind of character who would wear her Grand Prix medal while having sex with C in the hotel afterwards. I don’t think it works as well as a dynamic between the two adult versions of the characters but I can still see some level of that bizarre psychosexual staunch avoidance thing they have going on.

Body and your relationship to your body and your connection to other peoples bodies and peoples perceived ownership or entitlement to your body is at the heart of a lot of pdd and because C and Alex have both been basically raised in that environment I think them hooking up would be very much about acting out frustration in a way they both understand. Like; Move like this because you feel this.

Like I sincerely don't mean for sex in this story to be about power. It isn't—even when power is a dynamic within it—but it is kind of about a feeling of being present in your own body for the first time, manipulating your body for someone else’s pleasure while getting to be the object rather than the subject of that pleasure.

I think how Tobin would react to it depends on any number of factors which would change with the context. Like if C and T were sleeping together the way they are in the actual story I think it would probably mean the end of the sexual part of their relationship, at least for a while, because T feels very invested in what she does with C and it would feel cheapened by finding out about Alex. If it was something that happened as teenagers I think she’d be kind of weirded out by it but hey we’ve all had weird overly invested hate sex with christen press so. actually this makes tobin very feel normal and usual and regular and it’s fine.

[sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw]

Day 15 | Gloryhole - Pantalone

Kinktober Masterlist

Word count: 1,545

Gender neutral reader (genitals not specifiec)

18+, blowjob, cum swallowing

A/n: Somehow this just feels perfect for him. Also, it’s amazing how much I struggle to write blowjobs despite loving them so much.

Pantalone stepped into the establishment. The wood walls were a dyed and polished black. The receptionist desk was made of a similar wood. 

The owner had clearly done their best to make it as clean and chic as possible. Yet in this sort of business it was impossible to keep everything clean. Much more so to get rid of the smell.

A woman in suggestive clothing danced on stage in the back. At this hour there weren't very many patrons. Pantalone informed the receptionist that he was there for an appointment. They guided him to an area that was clearly for the patrons with deeper pockets.

Pantalone wouldn't have come here on his own time. He had far too many things to attend to. However, the people he had arranged to meet insisted on this location. It was no problem. He could manage.

He entered a booth with the people he was meeting with. In under an hour, he managed to work out all of the details for this particular deal and close it off. It went very smoothly. Then again, he was very good at what he did. There was a reason the Fatui were so rich.

"Sir," one of the employees caught his attention. "To pay respect and show our gratitude for your visit, you may use one one of our services for free."

"This is very kind, however, I'm afraid I won't be here much longer."

They bowed. "We understand."

As they walked away, he mulled it over in his brain. He took another look around. There was a particular hallway that caught his eye. He supposed it wouldn't hurt to have a quick look.

The clicking of his boots became white noise as his thoughts wandered. It has been years since he'd been to a brothel. Although he lost the taste, interest, and time for it, once upon a time he enjoyed it. And admittedly, this visit was bringing back memories.

A sign next to a door caught his eye. He slowed to a stop. A glory hole. Allowing impulse to guide him, he opened the door and entered.

Nothing spectacular awaited him on the other side. A simple room with waist-level holes in the walls. He stalked along the wall. A little over half of the holes had signs saying they were empty for the time being. 

He stopped in front of one. Lightly tapping his finger against the wall as he decided.

He supposed he still had time.

You sat on the floor, reading a book you had snuck in. Footsteps caught your attention and you quietly closed it. Someone at this time? You got up on your knees. Maybe someone rich? Or maybe someone who had a day off or recently lost their job. It wasn't your job to judge, but you were curious nonetheless.

The footsteps came closer, then paused. Nothing happened for a few seconds. You started to angle your head to look at whoever was on the other side when a shadow finally stepped in front of the hole. You pulled your head back as a penis stuck through.

You teased the tip with your tongue before taking it in. Sucking on it, then bobbing further down. Sliding your tongue along the underneath.

There was a small grunt from the other side of the wall. The cock was thrust forward down into your throat. Your throat spasmed and lungs tightened. It took a lot to keep from coughing.

He stopped moving again. You would have liked to think that he did it for you. To let you recover. You wonder what it'd be like if we're fucking you for real. Would his hands run all over your body? Letting your hole stretch out and get used to his cock in you. 

You swallowed him down further. Your nose almost at his crotch. A familiar scent filled your nose. You never could tell exactly what it was. But it was the scent rich people always seemed to carry with them.

You sucked harder as he began shallow thrusts.

You imagined what it would be like if he were a regular client. And if you were his favorite because you always made him feel the best. And if he would pay even more to have you stay the night and pleasure him. And if on top of that he bought you expensive gifts, to show you that you were his favorite. He'd fuck you in elegant clothes or a lingerie he bought just for the occasion.

And maybe he would even make you his significant other and you would never have to worry about money again.

A silly fantasy. But daydreaming wasn't a crime.

A moan climbed up your throat.

There was a laugh on the other side. "You're certainly enjoying this."

You nodded slightly with a muffled, "Mhm."

A hand went between your thighs. Playing with yourself to the fantasy still in the back of your head. Regardless of how unlikely it was, it was turning you on.

You bobbed your head up and down, going faster. The salty taste of his precum was invading your tongue.

He lost his rhythm. He was close.

Pantalone’s body tensed from the pressure and blood flowing through his cock. He couldn’t hold on for much longer. It had been so long since he felt this good. The way your lips wrapped around him, moved, moaned. It almost seemed like you were enjoying it as much as he was.

He wished the wall was gone so he could see your face and grip the hair on your scalp.

As much as Pantalone wanted it to last longer, there wasn't much time left until he- His hips jerked. Cum shot out of him. Leaving his gasping and his fingers held on the wall curling.

He stood there with his hands on the wall for a moment. Recovering. His eyes were wide and his face warm. Had he really been missing out on this for years?

Your tongue was on his cock. Licking him clean. He twitched from sensitivity.

Eventually, he had to pull away. He almost felt disappointed to leave. He stood a moment as he considered. 

He pulled out some mora and held it to you through the hole. To him it was nothing, worth as much as dirt. But he could imagine for you it was a decent tip.

Your fingers slowly entered the light as you hesitantly took it. The tips of your fingers grazed against his glove.

"Thank you," your voice quietly said on the other side.

"Find a good place to hide that so your employer doesn't take it." He had no idea if that would actually happen, but he knew the greed of some people, and would prefer it if this money stayed with you.

Pantalone left the room. There were some more people when he returned to where he entered. He walked up to the receptionist.

"Yes?" They said. Their eyes expecting and anxious.

"I would like to take one of the prostitutes to spend the night with me," Pantalone stated bluntly.

"Oh, yes." They nodded enthusiastically. "I will get that right away. Which one?"

He told the exact room and hole you were in. They looked around very quickly, like they were reluctant to leave their place. They called someone who looked like another employee and told them the situation.

The employee made a quick bow and left to go to the backrooms. Pantalone followed behind. He was certain that he wasn't supposed to do so, but he doubted they would stop him. And he was curious to see how everything looked behind the scenes.

In a little bit the employee came to a door and started to open it. In the corner of his eye, he saw the owner walking very quickly toward him. Pantalone stood in place and laced his fingers together.

"Lord Pantalone," the owner gasped from the sudden exertion, "I appreciate that you enjoyed the facility enough to want to spend the night with one of the prostitutes. But this one is booked for the rest of the night. However, I can offer you other prostitutes. Better ones."

"What is it?" Your voice said. You opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out of the small compartment you were in.

Pantalone's breath stopped for a split second. You looked even better than he had imagined.

"I'm sorry, there's been a mistake. Get back in there," the owner ushered you away. He reached out to touch your shoulder and guide you back in.

"No," Pantalone said sternly with a strained smile. His eyes narrowed at the brothel owner. "I want this one."

His clasped together hands clenched.

You looked at him in recognition and surprise. Your eyes trailed up and down him. His gaze turned more friendly once he turned his gaze to you.

"But-"

Pantalone held his hand up. "I will pay triple."

The owner shut up very quickly. Blinking several times as his mind seemed to be calculating how much money that was. Pantalone didn’t wait for his response.

"Are you ready?" Pantalone asked you, holding out his hand to you.

"Yes." You quickly nodded. Taking him by the arm and walking away with him.

[justarandomgirly]

VFX artists are speaking out against Marvel, with many refusing to ever work with the entertainment giant again. This comes as artists share accounts of unworkable deadlines and immense pressure leading to stress and unsatisfactory final products. Many have requested to never be put on a Marvel project again, saying that the studio has the "worst VFX management out there".

These allegations have been made on the subreddit r/VFX, with artists across the industry sharing their negative experiences with the company. Almost no one in the subreddit has a good word to say about the employer, with many saying that the money and star-power aren't worth tolerating such poor working conditions.

In a thread titled "I am quite frankly sick and tired of working on Marvel shows", Reddit user Independent-Ad419 expressed their frustration with the studio. "Marvel has probably the worst methodology of production and VFX management out there", they write. "They can never fix the look for the show before more than half the allocated time for the show is over. The artists working on Marvel shows are definitely not paid equivalent to the amount of work they put in."

Others in the replies are quick to agree. "On Thor they ask for a complete mini-sequence 2 or 3 weeks before deadline", says samvfx2015.

Mickeym00m00's account is much the same: "I request to not work on [Marvel] movies and TV shows. Unfortunately, they're becoming our biggest client. They expect a smorgasbord of options so they can change their mind three more times."

Those who haven't been able to avoid working with Marvel confirm that it hasn't improved in recent years. "I'm on almost three years straight of Marvel. Welcome to the seventh level of hell". Another user shares that their time at Marvel has been a "black hole of sleep deprivation and eating bad".

Another thread from three months ago contains even more damning accounts of what it's like to work with Marvel. These allegations were shared when another VFX artist was disappointed to lose out on the opportunity to work with Marvel - something their industry peers reassured them was no great loss.

"I am on my third Marvel project in a row and literally just woke up 5:30 am on a Saturday with stress going 'I don't want to do this anymore'", writes RANDVR. "It's 6 am now and I am making a reel to apply someplace that has projects other than Marvel because I can't do this anymore.

Mickeym00m00 shared a particularly shocking account of their time working with the studio: "Marvel has seen grown men punch walls and throw monitors from stress. I broke down a couple of times and have seen the strain it can put on marriages. But hey the $$ was fantastic. Fuck Marvel as a client, the credit name is not fucking worth it."

Raistlinuk agrees: "It took me over six months to recover from WandaVision's crunch. It’s not worth it. Not when there’s better run projects that look just as good out there."

Given how recent some of these projects are, it's unlikely that there's been a dramatic change in the past few months. It remains to be seen if Marvel addresses these criticisms as they become widely shared online.

Btw

It explains ridicilous CGI in Loki or Love and thunder

Marvel used to have 1 movie a year or two.

Now its 2-3 movies a year and several shows. Quantity over quality. No wonder cgi workers cant keep up.

[luvrlou]

What are my Flaws

Pairing: Dinger Holfield x Fem!Reader

Warning: Swearing, Underage Drinking, Use of Weed

Summary: After being invited to a party some truths come out after a silly drunken conversation.

A/N: Not posted in absolutely ages sorry about that!

Word Count: 2.8k

Lainie Diamond, the school's popular sweetheart, most people feel a streak of jealousy when they see her walk through the halls with a herd of teenage boys, sometimes even girls, i'm not one to judge, trailing behind her. Although I should hate her, I mean she pretty much stole my ex from me, it's not her fault though, she's honestly breathtaking. I love her more than anything, we've had this bond like no other since she moved here about 4 years ago and ever since we've been attached at the hip.

Of course always being with the school's, hell maybe even the state's, wow girl can have it's downsides, like bringing her with me to meet a boy and me totally falling for him, or having to third wheel almost all the time!

Even though there are a few downsides I would never change her for the world, she has the most golden heart and intriguing personality, what is there not to like?

"Hey Y/N!" Lainie shouted across the classroom as I walked into maths, earning a hush from the balding teacher at the chalkboard, she rolled her eyes.

"Is that Lainie Diamond? In the flesh?" I laughed as I walked towards my desk.

"Yes it is, now be shocked," she teased back, causing me to faux gasp.

When I sat in my seat I immediately felt the presence of a certain redhead sitting behind me, I rolled my eyes, as much as I love my friends. Dinger and Joel always seemed to get me riled up, more so Dinger, he just always knew how to push my buttons.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Dinger whispered from behind me.

"Dinger," I nodded, while trying to copy down what's on the blackboard.

"Not even a good morning, wow, fuck you too then." He gasped and muttered, making me huff in frustration.

"Calm down it's nine in the morning jesus." I groaned, I could hear him snicker to himself, he definitely knew that he got a rise of me. I just know there's going to be a long day ahead.

By the time lunch had rolled around I was on my last nerve with Dinger, I guess I'm feeling really irritable today, usually, I can keep my anger in until last period before he truly pisses me off.

I don't get how one person can have that many annoying characteristics, he's not even that bad a person to others, but he just has something out for me, I'm telling you. For example, when Bobby first introduced us, he was nothing but nice to me, mind that was about five or six years ago.

Ever since we were 15 he just seemed to have it out to annoy me, which influenced Joel to tag along and piss me off, it's two years later and they're still doing it, you'd think they would mature a bit, but no, only seems that me and Lainie have.

I mean even Bobby is more level-headed than him and trust me Bobby is a nutter and a half.

"If you glare any harder holes might actually burn in his back," Bobby chuckled, snapping me out of my hateful thoughts.

"How come I'm the only one truly irritated by his mere existence?" I question, facing the black-haired boy next to me.

"Maybe you like him!" He teased, nudging my shoulder.

"Yeah, no," I deadpan, now I'll admit he is a decent-looking boy but his personality is definitely off-putting. Bobby then gives me a knowing look, "as if, have you seen how he acts, I'd rather drown in scolding hot lava than date him for more than five seconds."

"Woah, that was a bit harsh princess," Dinger hummed. Great just great, why does he have to be near me whenever I don't want him there whatsoever.

"Don't be such a smart ass then Holfield and maybe my opinion on you will change," I scan his face for a moment, seeing a trace of a smirk, I continue, "which is extremely unliking since the thought of being with you is simply revolting."

I smiled to myself watching him give up and turn away to go talk to Joel, finally I had gotten a rise out of him.

Before I knew it lunch was over and I had to go back to class, I trudged through to halls toward my Physics room, dreading the next hour of my life. Luckily I sat next to a sweet girl, Evie.

"You don't look too happy," she commented when I practically flung myself in my seat.

"How could you tell?" I replied flatly.

"Well what's pissed you off, or who?" She questioned, slight humour in her voice.

"That stupid fuck, Dinger Holfield, god knows why I keep him in my life he's so incredibly frustrating!" I huffed, crossing my arms.

"I mean at least he talks to you, I would die if a boy with his looks even spared me a glance." She reasoned, a day-dreamy look in her eyes.

Her comment made me feel a bit distasteful, I don't really understand why but I pay it no mind and reply. "Sure he's ok looking but his personality is his main downfall."

Before Evie could reply the whole room was silenced by our teacher, she finally seemed annoyed by the class's constant chatter. After a treacherous class, the bell finally rang signalling it was the last period.

"What class are you off to?" I ask Evie as we gather our stuff.

"English," she groaned, "you?"

"Art," I answered happily, I honestly quite enjoyed art, well it's better than maths or english.

She quickly smiled at me when we parted ways to go to our separate classes.

Sadly my peace had been interrupted by none other than Dinger Holfield, who was slinging an arm over my shoulder.

"Dinger, what are you up to?" I inquired, my eyes flicking between his face and the arm over my shoulders while my cheeks flushed red.

"You looked quite lonely there, like a small puppy, so I'm here to walk you to class!" He cheered as if he was the kindest person in the world.

"Well I'm Mr Mackal's room, so we're nearly there," I told him, hoping to get away from the encounter as soon as possible.

He took his arm off my shoulder and started to fiddle with the zip of his army green jacket, "Me, Joel and Bobby are going to a party tonight, come with us will you?" He spluttered out. I just nodded in response, face still flushed, "and- uh- bring Lainie!" He finished his sentence, while trying to redeem himself.

I nodded again and chuckled as he practically sped-walked away, I didn't realise I was that scary. I shook off the slightly odd behaviour and entered my class.

Before I knew it the time of the party, Dinger had invited me and Lainie to, had rolled in. The boys were going to pick us up at seven so we had just over an hour to get ready.

"What are you wearing?" Lainie asked you slightly panicked at the time.

"Just a mini dress, or maybe a nice top and a skirt." I answer, rummaging through my closet, "you can wear one of my outfits, yeah?"

"Yes, please! You are honestly a lifesaver!" She smiled widely. I picked her out a black fitted skirt and a silver sparkling cropped vest to match, it was more my style than hers but it didn't matter, she suited everything.

While she changed into her outfit I started deciding between a dress to wear, I was thinking a black one with mesh arms, and perhaps some silver heels to match so that me and Lainey would be somewhat corresponding.

I changed into my outfit and we started to jokingly model about my room, "You have the best clothes, Y/N, I swear," Lainie praises, her comment made me beam, I was infatuated by her mere presence never mind her sweet words.

Lainie reached over my bed to glance at my alarm clock, "we have fifteen minutes, give or take, before the boys come." she commented, I hummed in response.

Lainie sat on my bed fawning over the photos of Ralph Maccio and River Pheonix in my newest edition of BOP, while she was engrossed in my magazine I took the last of my curlers out, I adored doing this to my hair it always added just the right amount of volume.

"Thats the boys!" I cheer as I watch Joel's red mustang pull up infront of my house, I quickly fix my hair and then the straps on Lainie's top before we leave my front door. "Bye Dad!" I shout up the stairs.

We swiftly exit my house and walk towards the car. Lainie obviously sat shotgun next to Joel, meaning I had to be stuck between Bobby and Dinger. "Hello honey," the redhead boy laughed, leaning close into my side.

The car journey was about twenty minutes, I didn't talk much although Bobby, Lainie and Joel seemed to keep themselves occupied and Dinger was trying to understand how to work Joel's new lighter.

"Come on man, I just want a smoke!" He groaned still flicking the side of the light.

I hummed, "hand it over," he obliged and I flicked on the flame and signalled for him to put the cigarette in his mouth. He watched me with open eyes and his cheeks a shade of rose. I quickly lit his cig and moved back, registering how close to him I was. When I sat back Bobby sent me a knowing look, making me mouth 'shut up' to him.

When we arrived at the party Bobby offered me his hand and pulled me out of the car, I walked to Lainie's door and helped her out, "Dinger didn't seem too happy about Bobby helping you out the car," she whispered with a teasing smile across her lips.

"Oh shut up Lainie," I mumbled as she laughed and linked arms with me.

We walked towards the front door of the house, I didn't really know whose party this was, apparently, it was one of Bobby's friends from the neighbouring school.

The first thing we did when we entered the house was find the stock of drinks, "what are you thinking Y/N?" Lainie asked, eyes roaming the display of vodka, beer, tequila, whiskey and even some rum.

"I'm thinking of a vodka coke," I pondered, grabbing a red solo cup. Lainie nodded in agreement grabbing the vodka and a cup of her own, she poured some vodka into the two cups while I grabbed the coke and added it to the vodka in both cups until it was mainly full.

'Okay I'm away to mingle, you want to come?" She asked me, I took a swig of my drink and shook my head.

"I'll catch you up later, yeah?" I smiled.

I am honestly so confused with Dinger, sure he's annoying but we have these moments, it's as if the world stops spinning and it's just me and him. Before I knew it my drink was finished, I poured myself a new one, this time with a more generous amount of vodka.

"I really need to go talk to more people," I mumble to myself, I really had to get this prick out of my head. I walked into the crowd and started talking to some girls.

"Hey! I love your dress, where did you get it?" A girl I've seen around school asks.

"Thank you, I got it from Tommy Hilfiger! Only $70 can you believe that?" I grin before taking a gulp of my drink.

"Hey Y/N!" A girl shouts, a big group walks up to me, Evie standing at the front.

"Evie! You should have told me you were coming!" I grinned, "oh my god, are those Guess jeans! I need them!"

"Yes, the fit of them is honestly amazing!" She fawned. "Want to come and get a drink with me, there's this one whiskey that tastes just like the apple juice in the mall!"

"Hell yeah!" I beamed, the other girls followed as we made our way to the kitchen, I poured the whiskey that Evie handed me into my cup and took a drink. "Evie how much percent is this?" I asked.

"It says twenty-seven, tastes like there's none though!" She laughed, gulping down the last half of her cup.

"So introduce me to your friends," I coax, eyes scanning the group of about seven girls behind her.

She turns around and points to the first girl, "This is Chanel, her mum really likes handbags," she whispered the last bit before pointing to the next girl. "This is Tracy," she makes her way down the line saying the name of each girl. They all looked nice enough but I was really wanting to mingle with more people, my mind wasn't exactly deterred from the thought of Dinger's face.

"I'm going to head, I'll talk to you all soon!" I smiled softly, added some more whiskey to my cup and walked into the crowd, hearing a chorus of 'byes' and 'see you laters' from the girls.

"Hey beautiful, where are you going?" An unfamiliar boy said, looking into my eyes.

"Oh no where," I giggle, I don't know if he's honestly attractive or if it's just the alcohol.

"Maybe we can talk a bit," he suggested motioning me to sit on the couch. "I'm James."

"Y/N, I haven't seen you around here before," I smiled, situating myself on the couch.

"Well I would remember seeing such a pretty face so I'm assuming you don't go to ACU?" He replied.

"Yeah I don't go there, I go to the school for the dumber part of town. I joked, downing the last of the liquid in my cup, feeling it slide down my throat. "I'm going to get a new drink, I'll be back in a second."

"Wait, give me your number just in case I miss you," he offered me a pen off the nearby table, I wrote my number onto the palm of his hand and walked to the kitchen.

While I was on my way towards it a pair of hands grabbed my waist, I whipped my head around to see Dinger with a clenched jaw. "Dinger, what the fuck!" I mutter sternly. He stayed silent while he guided me into the room.

While he walked me I felt over whelmed by his redolent scent. "What do you thing think your doing," he whispered through clenched teeth.

"Getting dragged by you to the kitchen, duh!" I drunkenly laughed.

"Don't even think about fucking with me Y/N" He threatened.

I grabbed more whiskey and filled my cup to the brim, " I'm not doing anything you're the one grabbing me and dragging me away!"

"That guy! Why are you talking to him?" He questioned getting close to me, I could smell the strong stench of beer and weed in his breath.

"Cause I'm a single girl who can talk to whoever she pleases!" I babble, looking at him with the most menacing eyes my drunken state can muster.

"God you're so stupid! I like you Y/N!" He practically yelled.

"No you don't" I whisper, looking at his pleading eyes.

He backed away from me and sat on a chair at the drinks table. "What's my flaw?"

I laugh, until I realise he's deadly serious. "Well you're irritating, you have a bit of a jealous streak, clearly, and you always push my buttons." I giggle.

"So nothing physically is wrong with me?" He ponders.

"No, you're hot as hell!" I admit, feeling his eyes glued to me as a finish yet another cup of whiskey.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean I would be in love with, like head over heels, if you were less annoying." I chuckle grabbing the bottle and pouring the drink right into my mouth instead of a cup.

He groaned and grabbed my face, "you're so fucking confusing," he crashed his lips right into mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he trailed his hands down my back to my waist.

He pulled back as we heard a set of footsteps walk into the room. "Thank god! I thought you died Dinger!" The voice belonged to none other than Bobby Keller. "Y/N?"

"Hey Bobby," I replied cautiously.

"Hey girl!" He shouted, well more squealed. Yes he was definitely high. "Want to come smoke with us!"

I hummed before nodding and grabbing Dinger's hand and following Bobby towards the back garden. He handed each of us a joint and we sat on the grass while gazing at the abendrot sky while the drugged smoke filled our lungs.

[phoenixyfriend]

Fake Sith TCW Trio

I have another fucked up time-travel AU! Who’s surprised? (Nobody.)

So like. Have you guys read that one fic where Luke and his students go back in time and pretend to be Sith Lords and are super hammy about it? (Sith Lord Swell by AMournfulHowlInTheNight)

This AU has contributions by @atagotiak, @the-lunar-system, @purronronner, @gelpenss, @creepingthroughthistidalwave, and @thisarenotarealblog.

I want TCW trio (plus Rex and Cody) to go back to several years pre-TPM and, since the Council DEFINITELY won't believe them about the Sith being back... they'll force the issue.

Anakin is weirdly excited about things and building up their backstory.

Anakin: Okay so I can definitely be a Maul type, with the unhinged ranting and manic laughter, Obi-Wan can be the whole Refined Rich Guy type like Dooku, where you can't even tell he's evil until he starts talking about getting out the eyeball scoops, maybe toss in a bit of mad science stuff? Ahsoka could play up like Ventress OR, oh oh, she can be the Light Side Child we need to PROTECT who's publicly begging us to return to the Light after our big dramatic Falls where we murdered like eighty people to save her, and-- Obi-Wan: Why are you never this enthusiastic about actual undercover missions. Ahsoka: Did you just have all this ready to go, or...? Anakin: WE COULD GET YELLOW CONTACT LENSES FOR ME.

Obi-Wan: How's my evil laugh?

Anakin going “Okay.. so if any of us need to murder someone to sell the bit it should be me, I think I could handle it the best. Why? No reason.”

Obi-Wan: I'm not sure a complete Fall could come from protecting Ahsoka, really-- Anakin: No, no, it could.

Obi-Wan: Surely you’d hold back because you realize neither of us want that for you. Anakin: Uh. Sure. Definitely.

Obi-Wan points out that none of them can channel the dark side to Prove they're Sith and Anakin just goes "Okay, give me like two seconds to stew in my negativity and--right, you can stop staring in horror, please."

Anakin rambles on that they can TOTALLY make the galaxy a better place while playing at being Sith! He's got a whole LIST of slave empires to "take over" and disassemble!

Anakin has a whole excited spiel about how EVIL soldiers and assistants are minions, in this case partly because Cody and Rex are too good at what they do to be mooks. Cody could pull off evil minion very well. Facial scar? Looks good in black? Quietly competent and sarcastic?

He also pushes for Obi-Wan to lounge in a fancy throne with a glass of wine while Anakin stalks the shadows and Ahsoka hangs out on the window ledge. The disaster lineage is dramatic, okay, Anakin’s just leaning into it, he’d appreciate it if everyone stopped looking at him like that.

Qui-Gon, surprisingly, ends up a skeptic about all of this. Everyone is freaking out about the Sith and he’s like “y’know I’m not even sure they’re darksiders.”

Some Jedi, possibly Qui-Gon for his conspiracy board, gets in a real risky situation and one of the Fake Sith saves them, but also panics and kinda drops character for a bit.

Jedi: You saved me! Why’d you do that? Anakin: I uh... just wanted the pleasure of killing you myself?

"You saved me. Why?" "Mmmm. Jedi." [walks away]

Qui-Gon: [trying to figure out what is up with these people semi-competently (from his perspective) pretending to be Sith] Dooku: [trying to protect Qui-Gon from Sith influence]

The gang is the most successful at pretending to be Sith to Dooku. Sure, they’re not gonna punish him for something he hasn’t done, but it’s not hard to act menacing and angry around him.

(They really do have so much fun irritating the heck out of Dooku. He hasn’t Fallen yet, but they want to keep an eye out.)

At some point, future Obi-Wan definitely drops that little tidbit of "What, you didn't think the Banites were the only Sith running around did you? You... didn't even know about the Banites. How... disappointing."

They REGULARLY use Ahsoka as an excuse to be marginally less terrible. They claim that if Ahsoka pouts, they stop. ‘Soka also uses them as an excuse for why she’s a lil feral. (To be fair, that one is accurate. She was already a lil feral before but it’s not like they did anything to stop it.) Ahsoka gets her "breaking into people's offices" jollies by bugging Nute Gunray's office.

The Jedi keep trying to Rescue Ahsoka.

Rex and Cody end up in real beskar, there's a whole Thing with Mandalore and Jango and Satine.

Obi-Wan is CONSISTENTLY worried about Anakin Falling for real, which... hey, at least he knows to be worried about Anakin Falling. Step up from canon, really.

Anakin is WAY too into killing the Hutts but like. It does... technically sell the bit.

Obi-Wan: Sure, I’m not sad that they’re dead, especially because we’re not connected to the Republic, so we don’t need to worry about starting a war and all that. But. Anakin is disturbingly cheerful about this. Rex: Wasn't he a Hutt slave? Obi-Wan: Well yes, but-- Rex: I'd kill Nala Se if I could get away with it.

Cody and Rex are very supportive of Anakin's murderous intentions.

Obi-Wan does understand anger, even killing someone in anger. Like Maul (the first time at least) and D’nar and a few others. All the same, like... y’know. The level of bloodthirst from the others is a little off-putting.

At one point, Anakin accidentally addresses young Obi-Wan by name, despite never having met before, and to cover it up, he... panic-flirts. He panics, and so he flirts, with young Obi-Wan.

(He will later blame this on old Obi-Wan, because he had to pick up the habit of flirting with the enemy from somewhere.)

Anakin vaguely implies that he's a wee bit obsessed with young Obi, and that the padawan should "get used to being the target of a dark-sider's interests," because he’s scrambling for Ominous Shit and, well, future Obi-Wan was pretty frequently a fixation point for darksiders, right?

The second he gets out, he just starts screaming into a bucket while Rex pats him on the back.

For the next however many terrible months, possibly years, he has to keep up the act while having an ongoing meltdown about how That's My Dad As A Twenty-Something.

(It doesn't help that young Obi-Wan reflexively flirted back.)

Old Obi-Wan, meanwhile, is just very "you dug this hole yourself, padawan."

There is an argument at the beginning about Obi-Wan’s outfit. If he’s gonna be a Sith, he can’t just go around in beige, but he’s like “I like this and it’s comfy.” Sure, he’s changed clothes for undercover stuff, but that’s always been temporary, y’know? He likes his beige.

We have a number of options.

My first instinct? Beige linen three piece suit, like a southern lawyer. "Now I may just be a simple Outer Rim force adept--"

And, of course, you can TOTALLY make the beige sinister: he’s impersonating a Jedi! Jedi impersonation would also explain why nobody has a red saber.

“Sure is good that the Jedi don’t seem to realize most of the galaxy doesn’t know red sabers are different and bad.” “Shhhh, stop poking holes in our story where a Jedi might overhear.”

Like.... if you do enough doublethink, it works! How would a Sith hide? In plain sight. Also, it’s a GREAT way (if they were actually assholes) to try to slander the Jedi name.

(Anakin and Ahsoka still think he could stand to put a little more effort in. Add a splash of color, for pity's sake!)

Though tbh part of me is like “What if Old Obi wore, like... a split skirt suit...” Victorian womenswear inspired because he misses his robes, but he has to look Professional, and like he's MOCKING Jedi instead of BEING one, so he wears a vintage-y split skirt thing over his leggings. Ends up looking a lot like what Ventress had for a while, but Beige. I also keep wanting to put him regency menswear.

Anyway. Obi-Wan’s wardrobe aside...

Anakin builds up his Tatoo accent again. It helps him with the (mostly true) "slavery helped me fall" backstory.

Either Cody or Rex offhandedly mentions being made to serve them (the Fake Sith) and now the Jedi are somewhat concerned about brainwashing. Are these Mandos the victims here?

“No like. Literally made for this. In a lab.” This is even more horrifying. So...

On the one hand good! The Jedi should be scared about Sith! On the other hand... it makes the Jedi more determined to stop them, specifically. They keep on getting in the way, just, all the time, and they’re not investigating the actual Sith problem, which is decidedly not great since the Team doesn’t actually know who’s a real Sith right now, except Maul, and who even knows where that guy is.

Obi-Wan, at some point: Do you think we've succeeded at this ruse... a little TOO well? Anakin: I don't follow. Obi-Wan, gesturing at the truly obnoxious amount of wealth they've collected, including "trophies" of their kills: Really? Because I'm a little worried! Anakin, planning out a battle to take on Nar Shadda: ...I'm not.

"How many people do we realistically we need to take over Hutt Space? Apparently... five."

(Mostly because Anakin is ridiculously op.)

ANAKIN AND YOUNG OBI GET KIDNAPPED BY PIRATES TOGETHER. It's tradition.

Anakin: Okay, so, I need to get really angry about something to pass as a Sith... time to think about my WIFE and how I'll NEVER SEE HER AGAIN.

Since Anakin’s life never goes as planned... this does not work. Instead of getting properly angry, he makes himself sad. There are tears. There is wailing. There’s a distraught rant or two. Young Obi ends up awkwardly trying to comfort him.

“Oh no, this… Sith?? Is crying on me. What do I do???”

Later on, when the Council wants intel: "So... one of the Sith cried on me about his wife. I think she's dead? He wasn't very clear about it but it, uh... it sounded like it might have contributed to his Fall. Also the relationship was a little unhealthy? He basically worshiped the ground she walked on and kept ranting about how he would have given her the galaxy on a platinum platter of she'd only asked, but that might be new and inspired by the Dark."

One of the random Jedi is REALLY good at detecting the truth Through The Force, and asks Anakin how he Fell...

Anakin just. Tells the Tuskens story.

They don't get pinged as lying, but oh boy does old Obi have a LOT of questions for Anakin once they're in private.

There are other things happening to help sell the ruse. Some of them are necessary! Some of them are... not.

Obi-Wan: What's the best way to show we're rich and kind of evil, but like... classy about it? Anakin, immediately: I sit on the floor next to the throne, leaning against it, and you call me pet names while stroking my hair, and then when you need something killed I get to do it for you and then I go back to the floor and you thank me for the directed violence, and then you go back to Negotiations with criminals while I’m sitting there covered in blood. Obi-Wan: ...is there something you want to TELL us, or...?

"You're all going to get a glimpse of something normally kept hidden about me." "Anakin, you don't have to do that." "No, I'm gonna."

(Anakin has decided hes going to peel his kink tomato to sell this ruse, and the others are slightly uncomfortable with that.)

Anakin: Okay, I cannot keep flirting with you. Young Obi: Wait, what? But that's the best part of any time we run into you! Anakin: You look WAY too much like my Master did when I met him. Obi: O...kay? If someone looked like my master when HE was young, I'd-- Anakin: My Sith Master half-raised me. He's basically my dad. Obi: ... Anakin: What's that look for? Obi: I mean, you spend a lot of time lounging at his feet, and, like, given how much you hate slavery, I... kind of assumed it was a kink thing? Anakin, brightly: Oh no, I just have a LOT of trauma. And neuroses. Snips says they’re neuroses.

Young Obi is a little upset because he was actually getting REALLY into Flirting With The Enemy and was hoping it would go somewhere. He mopes to Qui-Gon about it. Qui-Gon isn't sure whether to be proud about Obi breaking rules, or worried over Obi-Wan falling for a Fake Sith.

(As Tia put it: "You enjoy making young Obi-Wan have a completely unrequited crush on Anakin, don’t you?")

Fortunately, one of those attractive Young Mando boys very kindly helped him tape up his ribs this one time, and has thus caught his eye...

I feel like having Cody date Young Obi would court an entirely different kind of (internet) drama because clone ages, but whatever.

Also please imagine an element of "so I'm dating the genetic identical of my boss... who's dating the man I'm a genetic identical of..."

(It's probably not actually Jangobi but man would that be funny and also stupid.)

Somehow Young Obi figures out that the "Sith Master" is a future him before he realizes that they're not actually dark. In his defense, Anakin was pretty convincing. Especially with the wife rant. It makes HIM more obsessed with Anakin, in a reversal of the implied earlier dynamic, which is all kinds of weird. Less romantic but like. Still weird.

"Future Me Scares Me" with Extra stupid. "Future Me Annoys Me." "Future Me acts like grandmaster Dooku, but more sass." "Future Me raised a really hot evil guy that refuses to bang Present Me." "Future Me might be a Sith, but I'm getting more and more convinced he's just fucking with us all." "Future Me is really rocking that beard, and I can't BELIEVE we figured out a way around the babyface."

"I’m kinda concerned about the whole evil thing, but I’m also glad that I know I’ll stay hot as I get older."

Quinlan approves of the priorities.

Also a lot of interactions with older Obi are very Anakin: [does/says something deeply unhinged] Obi-Wan: So, do you want to…. Talk about that? Maybe? Anakin: What’s there to talk about?? I’m fine, everything’s fine! Anyways how about those plans for tracking down Maul?

Anakin later, like way after the ruse is lifted, just blankly tells everyone that he did Fall, once, and Older Obi made him get therapy about it after the truth came out between the two of them a few months into the Fake Sith thing.

Where'd they find a therapist? I'm sure there's one SOMEWHERE around. Denon and Herdessa are close enough, and they've done enough "your criminal empire now belongs to me" that they can pay well. They make sure to find one that takes confidentiality real seriously.

It's all very "we need some more time to unpack all that."

Therapy helps get Anakin to figure out Sheev’s whole deal. They don't necessarily figure out he’s a Sith from it, but they figure out he’s sketchy and they need to look into that more. Obi-Wan probably already thought he was sketchy, but the whole active gaslighting campaign was a little surprising. They realize that he kinda benefited a lot from a lot of Sith plots and they still probably don’t think he’s a Sith but Obi-Wan is definitely starting to think he’s working with one.

"Okay, we're already bugging Gunray, should we bug Palpatine just to be safe?"

They get away with a lot of slicing because Anakin is a technical genius from twenty years in the future.

The reasons they're so good at Taking Over Hutt Space: 1. They know parts of the future. 2. They have superpowers and FAR less reason to not use them, now that their actions aren't going to reflect on the Republic. 3. They have Cody and Rex, who are two of the greatest military minds in the galaxy, and know EXACTLY how to wage a war that covers a solid third of the galaxy, starting from a position of relative weakness. 4. Anakin's charisma is scary high, and his knowledge of slave culture means they gain a lot of trust from the people they free, and they just... keep acquiring volunteers for the army they didn't plan to have. Obi-Wan doesn't know what to do. He thinks they might have started a cult?

In his defense, Dooku sort of started a cult, and Komari got kidnapped by a cult, brainwashed into joining it properly, and then took it over as head figure of said cult. It's practically tradition!

Comics Vader is the central figure of like three different cults, it was really just inevitable.

Anakin: Aw, don't worry master, it's not a cult, it's a revolution! Ahsoka: They're worshiping him, though. Anakin: ...it's still a revolution! Just... with some misunderstandings.

Also, if they got wind of people trying to keep people from being able to leave and other culty stuff like that, they’d probably put a stop to it pretty damn quick.

Names! Time for names. As per usual, it's easiest to keep track of Obi-Wan's alternate Older Self by just calling him Ben.

Darth Ben.

Ahsoka: You should be Darth Boring. Obi-Wan: I can still make you run laps, you know.

Anakin: The Force is telling me to call myself Darth Vader. Obi-Wan: ...why? Anakin: I dunno, but it sounds cool, I'll run with it.

Someone: Ben has all the answers; we shouldn’t question him, ever. Ben: One time I lost a planet, and a five-year-old found it for me.

More options: Going with the "evil word with the prefix 'in' chopped off" that we get with Sidious and Vader: Darth Surrectus (as in insurrection) Just random Latin words: Darth Temporus (time) Darth Commenticius (fake)

Anyway, back to Nonsense:

Maul goes after young Obi early, because the Fake Sith are really invested in this one random Padawan (Sidious is saying he might be a cousin of the false Sith Master? They do look similar enough) so someone needs to investigate. Naturally, Anakin shows up with some wild screeching to fight Maul, and when someone questions why he got involved it gets very "Kenobi is MINE!" and like. Okay. So.

Anakin means it in a very Sith "to toy with" and "to torture" way, or the ‘my chosen opponent!’ way, just the same kind of Obsession as Maul had with Obi-Wan in the original timeline. Unfortunately, Anakin’s a weird-ass person who flirts with Young Obi against his own better judgement, so there's some awkward "Like... your boyfriend?" from young Obi. Anakin just screeches in SOME emotion that nobody wants to interpret, and couldn't even if they wanted to, and starts whacking away at Maul again.

(Anakin hasn't explained the "you look exactly like my dad, sorry, it's just too weird" thing yet, and he is HAVING MANY REGRETS.)

There's definitely at least one instance where a person asks Anakin if he's planning on dating That One Jedi Twink, or at least banging out the tension. At that point in time, Anakin doesn't actually know who the fuck they're talking about, because "Obi-Wan + Twink = Does Not Compute" for dear, dense Ani, and instead he just ends up ranting about how he is LOYAL TO THE MEMORY OF HIS LATE WIFE, how DARE anyone so much as INSINUATE that he would TARNISH HER PERFECT MEMORY and UNWAVERING KINDNESS and WHOLESOME BEING, and the person who asked doesn't end up lightsabered but they do end up with a LOT to tell whoever they're reporting to.

Young Obi-Wan definitely hears Anakin mutter the phrase “something to discuss with my therapist later” a few times, and he’s a little bewildered because darksiders definitely don’t seem like the type of people to go to therapy. They’re the type of people to need therapy, sure, but not the type to go to therapy.

I think it would be very fun for Young Obi to continue sighing over Anakin (who's pretending to be fine with it and even flirting back because he's in too deep to stop and hasn't worked up the courage to explain the elephant in the room) while Anakin is covered in grease and infodumping while having a slightly manic hyperfocus on engine repairs while the two of them Somehow got stranded together in the middle of bumfuck nowhere (it's Plagueis's doing, he finds the interactions between THESE two in particular to be the most informative regarding the fake Sith).

Anakin, at some point while stranded with young Obi-Wan, and having actually started unpacking some stuff in therapy, though he’s def still got a ways to go: I’m pretty sure Ben cares about me. He acts like he cares, like he’ll do stuff like put extra blankets in my quarters in the spaceship because I get cold real easily or track down those droid parts I need for a project and he always has my back in a fight but y’know it’d be nice to hear him say he loves me once in a while. Especially because we kinda had a rough start and idk I don’t think he wanted me around at first.

And uh. Obi-Wan definitely relates to that a bit too much, y’know?

I want to say that Young Obi ends up mentioning All That to one of the clones or Ahsoka later, because they seem probably invested in Anakin's well-being, even if Ben is, well, a Sith, so Obi-Wan's a little worried the man's affection really is fake, but at least Ahsoka...

(Ironic, given what Anakin's actual eventual Sith would-be-Master was like.)

Young Obi mentions Anakin’s most recent rant to Ahsoka, and she just goes "Wait, is that why Skyguy likes to sit by the throne and get called pet names?" "Uh... I don't... know... but it sounds like all of you have a LOT to unpack there, Miss Apprentice."

Later on: "Master Kenobi, you need to tell Skyguy you love him 'cause apparently he's been having a lot of emotions about you not telling him you care and he's been talking to mini-you about it whenever they get stuck together and--"

Young Obi-Wan is just constantly the "Now we don't have time to unpack all of that" John Mulaney gif. Anakin in particular is a mess, and young Obi-Wan slowly goes from "I want to date that" to "I want to study that" about him.

Obi-Wan gets stuck somewhere with Ben, tries to small talk, gets on the topic of Vader, and spills the drama. He gets an awkward “Thank you for bringing that to my attention.”

It’s followed by a fairly frustrated “I try, but Anakin refuses to communicate his needs to me, and it feels like I’m always falling short.”

At least one member of the group is in therapy, probably all of them, but they’re still using young Obi as a sounding board for all this stuff. On the bright side, this is probably good for impressing the importance of good communication on Obi-Wan.

Good for Obi-Wan! And... whatever Padawan he eventually has.

As for baby Anakin, who is approximately age four, I want to go with "Anakin decides to be his own uncle, and Shmi just rolls with it because fuck it, she’s not a slave anymore, and a Fake Sith is a solid defense against anyone trying to re-enslave them."

[This is a backstory I've had them use before (see here and here).]

Seeing Big Ani and Little Ani in the same space might be what finally pings the "oh shit, that's future me" thing for Obi-Wan... you know, if he’s ever allowed close enough to see Little Ani in the first place.

Little Ani stays with the fake-Sith and is sorta jointly trained by all of them, and young Obi-Wan teaches little 'Soka at the Temple. Ani and 'Soka still end up friends somehow, but it is fairly different.

Every time little Ani addresses Old Obi as "Dad," it's just like ten kinds of awkward. The one time someone tried to explain that Ben wasn't his new dad, Shmi glared them down. She is of the opinion that, all the gods be damned, Ani deserves to refer to the most mature man in his life, who raised another him in another timeline already, as a father.

Ani doesn't NEED a father, Shmi herself is more than enough, but he does deserve to have this if he wants it.

An alternative conclusion to the time travel is uh. So the Mandalorians are genetically identical (give or take a hair gene) and really resemble Jango Fett, though whether anyone notices that is up in the air. Then the three ‘Sith’ (two fake Sith and their morality chain tag-along) have three younger, identical copies show up….

It could be really weird cloning shenanigans. Now, it makes no sense that they’d make clones, and stagger their production like that, and leave them as babies on various planets for Jedi to find. IDK what reasons Obi-Wan would come up with for that, but it’s a fun little detour before he gets to time travel.

There's a really painful moment (for the audience, who know about canon Vader) where someone tries to convince Ahsoka to leave the Sith and she's just like "no way, they'd never hurt me!” Then she clarifies that “someone has to keep them from doing stupid Sith shit whenever they get bored, you know?"

A bunch of Jedi probably think she’s delusional, but the few that have seen her get into trouble that is legitimately too much for her, which isn't often, have then seen Anakin show up like the devil himself to save her, and it's like. Oh. This is why she isn't scared of them hurting her.

We’ve discussed how Anakin does get concerningly in character with the fake Sith thing. However, Anakin and Ahsoka are, just once in a while, surprised by how Ben gets sometimes when playing the bad guy.

After all, he stabbed a dude with a fork and threatened to eat him during his time as Hardeen…

He has the same dramatic streak as all the rest of the lineage. He can be vindictive and creepy and scary as fuck.

HOWEVER:

Obi-Wan: I know I'm supposed to be playing at evil right now, but how do we feel about me making that evil a little... fruity? Ahsoka: Fruity, master? Anakin, who knows where this is going: [buries face in hands] Obi-Wan: You know, the... [limp wrist] Ahsoka: ... Obi-Wan: I mean, I'm already bisexual and well-groomed, I can play it up.

What’s the point of being evil if you can’t be flamboyant?

Anyway, I had to put in a lot of thought for what to do with Rex and Cody, because there's a solid place for them in terms of strategy, but it doesn't do much to give them independent narrative arcs, and 'young Obi-Wan has a crush' isn't much of an arc, you know?

So, basic info first: Cody, Rex, and Anakin all hold the rank of General in this AU because, like... who else is gonna. Ahsoka remains a commander because everyone declares her Baby, and also to keep up the "I'm a morality chain" ruse.

Cody maintains a very stern and unyielding public persona, but the second they're behind closed doors, he's roughhousing with his little brother.

Rex has some fun pretending to be a sadist whenever he and Anakin have to team up, because hamming it up as an evil bastard in front of Jedi is actually really fun... but usually, he's a competent fucking professional.

Because here's the thing: someone has to be.

They both kind of hate the army they've gotten, because these people don't even have proper trigger discipline, let alone any actual discipline.

This army? Tragic. They hate it. Give them the clones.

They have to be drill sergeants for months before they have anything worth sending onto the field.

I think that might be how/when they end up reaching out to Jango. Like, the first inroad is absolutely "we're your clones from the future and you were a Shit Dad so you owe us," but then they actually talk him around into letting the Fake Sith hire him. He brings along all the Mandalorians he can get to answer his calls, and on suggestion from Those Mando Twins, joins the army Ben doesn't even want.

Darth Boring doesn't want an army! Unfortunately, Cody thinks that's stupid as hell, and is overruling Ben so they can actually work on this 'cleaning up the galaxy of slavery' thing with actual resources.

Cody and Rex are super competent, and it shows in their horrified disdain for the state of their troops.

Rex: Fucking natborns. Anyone who isn't in the know: What's a natborn? Rex: [leaves without answering] People: WHAT'S A NATBORN???

(I'm assuming that the word smush is harder to parse in Basic.)

I think young Obi-Wan's new crush on Cody should also be unrequited. Cody's just like... bemused. Very "Okay, then, that sure is an Affection you've decided on."

Cody and Anakin both: Sorry, it’d just be too weird. Obi-Wan: Why would it be too weird? Cody and Anakin: Reasons.

Rex has to deal with the "whyyyyy" from both his brother and his (former?) General.

Young Obi-Wan just likes cute boys that fight good! Is that so wrong???

Ahsoka: So since we're not officially Jedi anymore-- Obi-Wan: We're still Je-- Ahsoka: Can we date? Can I date now? I want to date someone before we go back to the Code. It's a classic life experience for most teenage girls, and I want to Have That Experience before we're back at the Temple. Obi-Wan: You're not... you can date, Ahsoka, that's not actually banned by the Code. I mean, you'd have to keep it casual, but-- Ahsoka: I CAN DATE!!!

(Great priorities, Ahsoka.)

An idea I'm toying with is that one of the clones ends up Legally Engaged to Satine for political reasons, and young Obi-Wan is just like ???? because not only can he not date the hot boys, but one of said hot boys has become Mr. Steal Yo Girl.

Young Obi-Wan is suffering, and Quinlan is the worst friend ever because Quinlan is laughing at him.

There is obviously the question of

"How would Satine ever end up agreeing to that, given what their public personas are like and all that? She puts duty ahead of personal feelings but all indications are that it’s a terrible decision both ways." (as stated by Tia)

Which, yes, I forgot to actually say that I was imagining Jango had declared "those twins" his heirs after telling people they were his younger* cousins. Because reasons.

* Jango is about 27 when they land in the past, and I’m going to say the accelerated aging ended after hitting physically twenty because no, I don’t want to deal with that. As far as anyone knows, Cody and Rex are about five years younger than Jango. They’re less than year apart, which isn’t very visible, and most people assume they’re identical twins (except Rex’s hair), and that Cody just looks slightly older because of the scar.

Darth Boring had convinced Satine that the way to keeping Mandalore peaceful was to work with Jango (because Darth Boring, which is not his actual title but it is what Ahsoka insists on calling him in private, has a vested interest in keeping Mandalore and all interested parties calm), and he... maybe accidentally set up a political marriage between her and one of the clones.

It wasn't on purpose! Satine never married in his timeline, okay, he didn't expect her to ever get married here, either! He didn't even suggest it! This just happened!

(I want to say that Cody would be more competent at having a political marriage? But IDK.)

Do I do the Satine thing? It has potential, but also it's a bit of a cop-out. Do I have Cody be a diplomatic representative for their pseudo-Sith empire? He could be, but I think he'd hate it. Do I have Rex date one the Chaos Entities (Anakin or Ahsoka), or is that too repetitive with my other works? THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH GOING ON.

Part of me wants Quinlan to get a crush on Cody, and the crush gets bigger specifically in response to the fact that Cody refuses to take him seriously and/or just doesn't give him the time of day.

Based on their one interaction in TCW, they probably let get along ok. Cody maybe likes him back, buuuuuuut internally he's just a little "you were tolerable at almost-forty; early twenties you is obnoxious."

Just imagine the absolutely puppyish attempts at gaining approval and Impressing The Hot Mando General. Quinlan keeps having vague daydreams of seducing someone to the side of the Light. He really leans into the bodice ripper fantasies of saving someone evil with the power of love! (And also the power of really good sex.)

Bant looks at Quin and Obi and wants to throw them both into the nearest pond because they're idiots, but on this topic they are the same flavor of idiot. She considers calling up Reeft and Garen to help her knock some sense into them.

Quinlan: Can I volunteer to go undercover to the Sith? The Council: No. Quinlan: ...what if I-- The Council: No.

Tholme tries to get Qui-Gon to commiserate over their Padawans getting obsessed with Hot Sith Boys, but Qui-Gon just finds the whole thing funny. He knows from the chats he has with Ben that Anakin feels so completely, utterly, incredibly awkward about all of this.

(Ben continues to hold to "Anakin brought this on himself.")

(Ben also “kidnaps” Qui-Gon a lot.)

Also, hey, at least Quinlan isn’t actually into hot Sith boys! He’s into hot Sith minions which is... probably a step up. At least Cody’s not a Sith himself!

It's a step in some direction but Tholme has no idea which one.

(Quinlan sees Cody in dress uniform once and just keeps the mental image for Ages. It’s in his dreams. Sometimes said dreams overflow to Tholme via Force Mind Magic and Quinlan wakes up to someone smacking his face with a pillow.)

Arguably, Quin's also a lot more romantic about his crush than Obi-Wan is, in this case. Quinlan: I want to save him... Obi-Wan: Hey, hey, cute boy. Look at me. Let’s bang.

Cody: There are currently two future Jedi generals having some form of absurd romantic fixation in my direction. I don't know how to feel about this. Rex: Bed them. Cody: ...I'm not saying that's not eventually an option, but one of them is the younger Kenobi, and I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that. Rex: Pat him on the head like a tooka and then bed his friend, it'll be funny.

I think the Quinlan thing and also general exasperation of leading an absolutely useless army can function pretty solidly as the basis for Cody, but I have another idea for Rex now.

Komari is currently brainwashed in a cult, yes? So.

I keep bouncing around back and forth on what to do with Rex, but part of me suddenly really likes the idea of, after Team Fake Sith finds and dissolves the cult (as one does), and takes Komari into custody (because she's dangerous and deeply unwell), Rex kind of ends up her touchstone to being a decent person. He’s not a morality chain, and it’s not really a redeemed-through-love thing, just This Is A Solid Dude who doesn't pity her or thinks she's irredeemable (however you choose to define such a thing), but actually relates to the kind of conditions living like that can involve, and just kind of...

I don’t know. I think Rex's arc in this AU could be very heavily grounded in something to the effect of "You're not the worst darksider I've met. You're not the only person who was in a cult. You're not even the only former Jedi I know that's committed awful, horrible crimes. My question is just this: What are you going to do moving forward?"

Later Anakin: Wait, who do we know that was in a cult? Rex: What did you think Kamino was?

(Rex isn't as chill as he'd like her to think, but he's trying, and she's fairly reliant on the Force to understand emotions, and is currently in nullifying cuffs, so he can bluff.)

Komari needs someone solid and dependable to rely on for at least conversation, and I think Rex needs to feel needed.

I’m not sure if it’d be romance or friendship, but I think there's a solid basis to work with, potentially.

Per Tia:

One thing about Rex and shipping is like. If you want to do Rexwalker again that's fine, but if you're worried about repetitiveness but still want to like. Ship him in a non-political-convenience way. Rexsoka here actually would be different than your other stuff.

I'm trying to figure out if I can make it work because Ahsoka thematically fits very much into a little sister shaped hole here? She feels younger than in other works, despite not actually being younger than she is in, say, Commander Buir. In those other fics, she has some time alone to function and prove herself independently of Anakin and Obi-Wan.

I usually pluck Ahsoka out at sixteen if I'm pulling her from TCW, so she's got most of her competence but hasn't gotten quite all the trauma yet. Commander Buir, in particular, also has baby-shaped Anakin for contrast.

That said, I can see a decent source of narrative conflict in her wanting to experiment with romance and all that, and Anakin trying to tell her she's too young.

A year into this whole time-travel mess, she wants to give the dating thing a shot, and it spirals into "You were only two years older than me when you got married!"

I think I could build a plot out of Ahsoka wanting to do these things, and Anakin as an audience insert not quite processing that she's old enough to make these decisions. If she's choosing to date Rex, whose age works out as being close to hers when one takes into account Kamino fuckery, and whom she trusts absolutely, it’s arguably extra weird for Anakin to be upset with it.

"Senator Amidala was five years older than you, and you married her when you were nineteen and had only really known her for a week! I can go on a date with a guy we both know is one of the most trustworthy people alive if I want, Skyguy!"

I can definitely see Ahsoka getting annoyed with Anakin being overbearing and controlling at some point before that unrelated to romance, too. It’s not exactly a new fault of his.

My god, just imagine someone snidely asking Anakin "where's your little shadow?" and Anakin, being Himself and also a Fake Sith, has an emotional breakdown about how Ahsoka yelled at him for micromanaging her and not trusting her to make her own decisions in life and so she got herself a multi-month solo mission from Ben that Anakin isn't allowed to know any details about, and--

It's another one of those "oh, you have PROBLEMS problems with your mental health" incidents for the Jedi to add to the file, because Anakin having emotionally charged rants about his issues at seemingly terrible times is how they get a lot of information.

Some of the rants are planned.

Many of them, actually.

They want the Jedi to know these things.

Just, well. Anakin.

He really is a little Like That.

On that note, I'm low-key imagining that Anakin gets put on mood stabilizers by the therapist in this context, and he's doing good! He's handling his issues! He's--been captured with Obi-Wan the Younger again and his medication was confiscated.

Anakin is... not great. He's a little out of practice managing his unmedicated self, and when adding withdrawal symptoms onto that... poor Anakin.

(Poor Obi-Wan.)

I think it would be best if Anakin makes a bunch of ominous blustery comments at their captors about how they won't like what's coming to them if they take his belongings (AKA the fanny pack that has his backup pills), and then Obi-Wan just gets to watch Anakin get more and more erratic, because like. Yes, Anakin is using the Force to compensate, but unfortunately he's mostly cut off, and the stress of the situation is pushing him away from depression and into the beginnings of a manic episode.

Anakin is aware of his issues to the point where he's mostly managing, and he keeps asking Obi-Wan "would it make sense for me to [slightly deranged, very impulsive action]," and Obi-Wan realizes he's being the morality sounding board for the Hot Sith because ??? reasons?????

Eventually, Anakin does flop back in bed and dramatically throws his arm over his eyes, and says he needs his meds back, he's absolutely going to lose it, and Obi-Wan tentatively asks what kind of medication. There are levels to worry about. Mild allergy medication is one thing, but heart medication that needs to be taken every four hours is another, you know? He wants to know how much panic is appropriate.

Anakin lets him know that it's Psychiatric In Nature. Obi-Wan suddenly realizes that he really, really, really doesn't want to know what a properly erratic, unmedicated Anakin is like.

(An unmedicated Anakin really isn't nearly as bad as Obi-Wan fears. Anakin's been dealing with this for a while, and knows what his issues are and some of how to deal with them. He'd need to be running on no sleep and higher levels of stress, or to have been drugged with something meant to increase his aggression, to really lose his shit and do something worthy of Vader. RotS levels of stress and sleep deprivation is required to pull RotS levels of manic paranoid delusion.)

Tia asked:

How long does it take the Jedi in general to catch on to how like. They have opportunities. But these Sith never seem to harm any Jedi. And it’s not just like, the past timeline parts of the disaster lineage. They probably get opportunities to hurt other Jedi. Ones that are less skilled at saber work. And more importantly ones that they don’t seem weirdly interested in."

I'm not sure, really. The Jedi don't spend as much time in the Outer Rim as they could, and that's where the Team operates, so actually running into them by accident is unlikely for anyone other than Shadows.

Fortunately, it's really easy to toy with Shadows with the excuse of "I want to see how long it takes before you Fall with us."

I do want like... okay. Here’s the mental image:

Qui-Gon calls them out on being Fake Sith pretty quickly, so Ben just sort of eyes him, dramatically, and orders out "Leave us" to all non-team people. The threat of torture is implied but not stated. He gestures with wine to keep in character. He definitely makes sure Young Obi-Wan is ushered out, so it's just five time travelers, Qui-Gon Jinn, and Ahsoka's immortal force birb.

"...so, what's the reason for the farce, Obi-Wan?" "How in all the hells did you figure it out so quickly?"

(Qui-Gon cheated a bit. He could feel the broken training bond that was never properly severed due to Traumatic Death Of A Master on Ben's end)

Ben didn't realize he'd feel it! Young Obi-Wan can't feel his older self or a training bond with Anakin or Ahsoka, so why could Qui-Gon?

IDK if there would be anything on the level of crying and hugging it out, but I think it would be very funny if, every time young Obi and Anakin are getting captured by pirates or something, Ben and Qui-Gon are just having a nice afternoon tea and checking their watches to see if their respective walking bundles of neuroses are done with their adventure yet.

The Council is So Done, because Qui-Gon continues to insist that they're Not That Bad, but every time anyone other than Qui-Gon brings up the friendship, Ben laughs and makes a comment about how absolutely gullible Master Jinn is.

Obi-Wan is skeptical of his own experiences with Anakin, at least, if only because he's skeptical about Anakin's everything.

"I don't know if Vader is telling me the truth. I don't know if he's telling himself the truth. I don't think he's a great source of information even when he thinks he's being honest."

Anakin could tell Obi-Wan the full and complete truth, and Obi-Wan would worriedly put a hand to his forehead and start doing tests for hallucinations and paranoid delusions. In his defense, this is a very reasonable assumption to make with an individual like Anakin. It's just also not accurate, this time. I don’t know if Anakin hallucinates in canon without a weird inciting incident like Force Nonsense or getting drugged by the enemy, but paranoid delusion is pretty much all of RotS.

"I’m your time-traveling padawan who’s pretending to be a Sith to catch some other Sith who’re going to start a galactic civil war and those Mandalorians you like are from a clone army based on a template of Jango Fett made to serve the Jedi (because that’s totally something he’d sign up for), and one of the Sith is your grandmaster but he doesn’t seem to have fallen yet, it’s probably fine," is hard to believe.

Honestly, even if he seemed stable before saying that, which he doesn’t, it’s all real far fetched. There's a lot going on and Obi-Wan wouldn't even begin to believe it without evidence.

I've had it in my head that he and Bant and Quinlan have been gossiping about the mess for months if not years about these idiots, and at one point it became common knowledge that Ben was a Kenobi, and Bant convinced them (since the two were among the most likely in the entire Order to encounter the Fake Sith) to get a DNA sample, probably hair or blood since that's easiest so they can figure out HOW these two are related, if they are, and then there's a whole big thing.

Bant: No, no, this must be contaminated, it's coming up as Obi-Wan! Are you sure you didn't accidentally grab some of your own hairs? I know it's a little long for most of your hair, but the braid-- Quinlan: Wait, they keep claiming stuff about cloning, right? Maybe someone's a clone? Check for artificial telomeres! Bant: ...okay, so, there aren't any artificial telomeres, but the ones from apparently-Ben are... a lot shorter... um... I don't know what to do with this. It's like I have two samples from the same person, twenty years apart. Quinlan: Obi-Wan, what's that face? Why are you-- Obi-Wan: Vader told me he was a time-traveler. I thought it was the fever talking, but...

That’s how he finds out that Ben is future-him before finding out about how he’s not evil!

"Master Jinn... I think... I think the Sith controlling the Outer Rim is me from the future." "Oh, you finally figured it out?" "I AM HAVING A CRISIS HERE."

Obi-Wan, after a few hours of dazed realization, runs screaming to Quinlan and Bant like 'GUYS GUYS THIS EXPLAINS WHY VADER KEPT SAYING IT WAS WEIRD AND THAT I LOOK LIKE HIS MASTER AND THAT IT WOULD BE LIKE DATING HIS DAD.'

You know, the important stuff.

I think Qui-Gon tells him that Ben isn't evil because, like, That Sure Is A Crisis Obi-Wan's Having. He could hold off for shits and giggles, sure, but Obi-Wan’s on the edge of something Really Concerning, mentally. Best help calm him down on at least one or two things.

Obi-Wan’s maybe still a little skeptical until he confronts them over it. Because their Sith act was real good and also like. Maybe Qui-Gon just wants to believe the best of his Padawan, y’know?

Quinlan runs into Ben before Obi-Wan does, after this whole mess, and gets to observe as money changes hands and people act like sore winners about bets made for When Does Obi-Wan Figure It Out.

Anakin was saying 'soon' because he really didn't think the fever-fueled rant would be discounted as easily as it was.

Cody was of the opinion that it would take at least a few more years since they're actually pretty damn good at this whole schtick.

Quinlan: Wow, he's... going to be really disappointed that you have such a low opinion of his intelligence. Cody, gesturing at Ben: Experience. Darth Ben: ಠ_ಠ

Cody just rattles off some of the Extremely Stupid Shit that Ben's done in their time working together.

Rex cheerily offers up "You didn't even realize General Skywalker was married, sir! And they weren't subtle!" "I knew they were together, I just didn--" "Everyone knew they were together, sir. Everyone."

(Rex had the lowest opinion of their deductive capabilities. He claims it would have taken until Baby Ahsoka showed up at the Jedi Temple.)

-Once Obi-Wan accepts that they're decent people after all- Obi-Wan: Wow, Anakin, you're real good at acting unhinged! Anakin: Haha. Yeah. Thanks?

[strawbxrryneptune]

Level Two

Word count: 2.6K

Cw: pussyjob, exhibitionism, slight voyeurism, oral (fem!receiving), infidelity if you squint, unedited.

This fic and the fics following will contain monster fucking, cucking and threesomes!! If you are not comfortable, try out some of my other works, and Miggi's creations, but if you wish to proceed, remember, sharing is caring.

Prev~♡ Next ~♡

@miggiisdumb

From a young age you were taught to keep your emotions in check. Queens must never show weakness to enemies. Crying and screaming were to be left in private, so that you came off as cool and collected. The Mushroom kingdom needs someone level-headed. They need someone they know won't act rashly.

You came to a conclusion that you were the one they needed, the Queen that could handle herself in any situation. You could get a husband, rule a kingdom, maybe even raise some spawns of yourself. You were convinced you had the bag, but now, sitting on a boulder at the falls and watching two sweaty, bulky men wrestle and growl at each other, you weren't so sure.

You had been trying to keep your emotions in check the whole week. Kirishima was constantly inviting you to hang with him and Bakugou, and you didn't know how much you could take. Kirishima's kisses had you on fire,, his big hands grabbing at your ass and tongue sliding against yours, but Bakugou's heated stares and occasional touches had your head spinning in confusion and arousal. He had a weird thing for grabbing and kneading at your hips, and it was starting to get to you.

Kirishima had invited you to join him and Bakugou in a swim at the falls, the water there crisp and beautiful, said to bring years of youth to whoever was worthy. Of course, you agreed. Any princess would jump at the opportunity to swim in a magic body of water with her suitor and his dreamy friend. Kirishima had shown up in blue swim trunks, an extra change of clothes cradled in his strong arms and some sandwiches to munch on later. Bakugou wore a black loin cloth, bigger and a little longer than the one he usually wore. His choker and bracelets were laid out in the grass next to Kirishima's clothes and the food, but he didn't look any less intimidating. If anything, he looked even scarier, hair drenched and falling down around his eyes, glowing red as he growls and bares his fangs, pouncing on Kiri and snarling out threats.

"M'gonna destroy you, Red."

"You have to catch me first, Bro!"

Kirishima dives under the water, Bakugou following shortly after, and you chuckle to yourself. 

Soon, though, you start to get worried, cause it's been almost 2 minutes and they haven't come back up. 

Calling their names, you shrug your cover up off and get in the water, shivering slightly at the chill. As you get deeper and deeper, water up to your chest, you start to panic.

"Kiri? Bakugou? If this is a joke it's not-ah-!"

You scream in surprise and slight fear as you're suddenly lifted onto a broad, scarred chest. Your thighs are on either side of it, and  tense up when you feel the vibrations of a deep, raspy chuckle, and you fight the urge to thread your shaky fingers in ash blonde hair.

"Bakugou, put me down."

You try to keep your voice leveled but he picks up on the tremble, big, warm hands reaching up to grab at the fat of your hips, lifting you up further onto his chest.

"That wouldn't be fun now would it Princess?"

You gasp, glancing down at how your cunt is inches away from his mouth, drool spilling around the corners as he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.

“Seriously, y-you gotta…” your voice wavers as you meekly push at his drenched hair, momentarily losing your train of thought when he’s tongue lolls out, sticky with saliva and long. “What if Kiri sees us?”

“If ya keep quiet, he won’t.” The fleeting look of hunger and a nip on your thigh is all the warning you get. 

Bakugou guns for your cunt before you can answer and you act like he shocked you by the way you lurch forward, jaw slanted, clinging to his curved horns, entire body shivering from the firm laps on your mound. Even with the bottom half of the swimsuit on, you could still feel every lick in pin point detail, every nudge of his hot muscles between your folds, just barely pressing into your hole and tongue flicking over your clit. Bakugou can feel it too- the way you're throbbing on his tongue, can even taste the mix of his drool and your arousal seeping through quicker then he was lapping. It drove him wild.

He groans, eyes a little crossed to watch his handy work, hoists you higher and shakes his head further between your legs and your eyes roll back when he starts sucking on your entire pussy. Too hard for you to keep quiet. Too hard for the slurps not to sound exactly like what it looks like. 

“B-Bakugou, it’s too much!” You pant, quick and shallow, yet use your weak grip on his horns to hump his face desperately. “I think I’m g-gonna… gonna…!”

He growls, literally growls like the beast he is, and you almost do cum just by his fiery look up at you with a mouthful of your twitching cunny, unlatching with a wet pop that has sticky strings of your slick smacking on his chin. 

“Take it off.” He demands, words coming out muffled because he’s already back on your cunt. “Wanna taste you cummin’ in my mouth. C’mon, Princess. Lemme drink you up, baby.”

A shaky hand slips between the two of you, pulling your bathing suit to the side, and the next moment you’re squealing to the heavens above when Bakugou curled his tongue into you, spreading your walls apart on his tongue. His eyes flickered closed with a deep moan at the sensation of you spasming around him, juices nearly flooded into his mouth, but he gulps it down greedily, Adam’s apple bobbing and cheeks hollowing. 

You have no idea how long you stayed arched in his mouth riding out your orgasm, unable to tell if you were seeing clouds or if your vision really went that blurry. For one last time, Bakugou shook his head on your cunt and pulled back with a “puah!”, hot huffs of his breaths panting on your drenched up sex. God, you tasted better than you smelled. Bakugou would live between your thighs if he could, make you moan and squeal like you did, make you flush and look completely fucked out, so pretty as you stare down at him with lidded, hazy eyes, plump lips parted to catch your breath, gentle fingers raking his hair and the base of his horns that sent shivers down his spine. 

He’d have you forever if he could. If only you weren’t promised to-

“Bakugou, you drowned or something? Where are you, man?” Kirishima’s voice comes from behind some boulders a small distance away from where the two of you are and your heart skyrockets to your throat, the sudden tightness in your gut clenching all of you up in dread. Bakugou on the other hand just slid you down into the water, trying to keep any splashing sounds to a minimum, though both of you had to swallow back a sound when you brushed over his bulge on the way down. 

Bakugou swims by you in time to Kiri finally rounding the rocks, brows creased and a little pout on his lips, and you relaxed a bit when you realized he was upset over swimming alone all this time. His eyes flick from Bakugou to you, pout disappearing as he perked up a bit in surprise.

 “(Y/N), when did you get into the water?”

You open your mouth but don't get a word out. “Came in lookin’ f’us.” Bakugou says nonchalantly, glances over his shoulder to you and you don’t miss the heat of his stare bouncing up your form for a hot second. “Clearly worried over nothin’.”

Oh, this bastard…

Kirishima hums as he swims your way, gives you his million dollar sweet smile with a gentle cup of your cheeks. “Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”

Your bottom lip puckers in a pout even though you’re already long since mad, specially with his thumb brushing drawing circles on your cheek. “Just warm me next time. Thought you idiots drowned yourselves…”

“Sorry sorry.” He laughs and pecks you a few times all over your face, until he’s kissing you on the lips, a kiss that goes on longer than expected as he slots his mouth with yours and moves his lips with passion and adoration. Your mind gets fuzzy, consumed by Kiri’s kiss and body still reeling from your moment with Bakugou, your thighs clenching underwater because your insides craved for more. 

When Kirishima pulls away, you catch a fleeting glance over to Bakugou, a heavy and solemn look on his face, conflict in his eyes before he turns away too late once he caught you staring and it all comes rushing down on you- the clear weight of guilt on your shoulders. The worst part is that you don’t know what it’s aimed at- for going behind Kirishima’s back like this? Or for making Bakugou see you with someone else while he gets scraps of affection?

You tell Kirishima that you’re alright when he asks if something is wrong, then go back to growing when he turns to resume wrestling his friend. 

Way to keep your emotions in check, huh?

The rest of the morning goes by fast, the guys wolfing down their sandwiches and still being hungry, Kirishima offering to run into town quickly and grab some more food.

You agree, standing up to go with him but being surprised when he pushes you back down, a look you can't place in his eyes as his own flicker to Bakugou, who's uprooting weeds next to you.

"Stay here, 'kay?"

You nod, dazed, and watch him disappear into the bushes, stealing a glance to Bakugou. 

"Bakugou…"

"M'sorry."

You tilt your head at him, but he won't meet your eyes, a scowl on his face as heat creeps up his neck. 

"I said I'm fuckin' sorrry. I went too far. You belong to Kiri, it's not m'place to-mmpf!"

You cut him off with a searing kiss, sliding yourself in his lap and grabbing his hair, making him stutter out a moan into your mouth, big hands gripping your hips and lifting you onto his abs, grinding you against him. 

You furrow your brows, the feeling of his abs rubbing against your puffy clit feels heavenly but you wanna touch him. You felt him when you were in the water earlier, throbbing and pulsing against you. You wanted him in your mouth.

He snarls against you, demanding attention back on him as he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue against yours, panting heavily as his hands flex against your hips. You try to slide down a little more, moving your hands to rest on his meaty pecs and getting distracted by his puffy nipples.

They were so plump and flushed, they looked so sensitive it probably fucking hurt. You pull away from his mouth with a whine, trying not to smile when he chases your lips.

"You sure about this, Princess? If Kiri finds out he'll be-fuck, baby, Whaddya'doin?"

You don't answer, just give him a look under your lashes as you suckle on his nipple, eyes closing in bliss as the smell of him envelops you, fresh and crisp from the water but still musky and smoky. 

You scrape your teeth against him gently, then lick over the reddened area and moan as you suck once again.

You notice he had gone almost deathly still, and you look up at him only to almost cream yourself at the sight.

His eyes were rolled back in his head, fist in his mouth and drool spilling around the corners, dribbling down his flushed face and neck. He was trying so hard not to moan, cause he knew if he made a sound it would be loud enough for the whole Mushroom kingdom to hear.

He fucking loved getting his nipples played with, but virtually no one knew and he tried to play it off but fuck, you had him melting. 

"Yhew don' like it?"

Your words are muffled around his tit, saliva slowly trailing down his chest and forming a puddle in the divets of his abs.

"I-fuck, cut it out brat."

He tries to sound authoritative, but his voice is whiny, and you can already feel the bruises he's pressing into your hips. You hum, leaning back to look at his flushed chest, earning yourself a sigh of relief-quickly turning into a choked whimper when you switch to the other nipple, using one of your hands to tweak and pinch one while the other hand threads into his hair, grazing the sensitive base of his horns and knocking his eyes back, mouth dropping open and hands coming up to silence himself, allowing you to try and shimmy your way down onto his lap.

His unoccupied hand grips your hip even tighter, trying to keep you up and away from his cock.

"Bakugou-! Wan' yer cock"

You slur, grinding your hips onto his stomach, covered clit rubbing against his bushy pubes.

"You couldn't handle it sweetheart. We shouldn't even be doing this."

You roll your eyes, popping off his nipple and withdrawing your hands from him, reaching down to pry his hand off of your hip.

"Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot handle? You don't know what-oh."

You're cut off when he drops you down, cock sliding through your folds even over the bathing suit, so big and veiny you could feel every pulse and twitch through your bottoms.

You immediately push your swimsuit to the side, rubbing your slit up and down his dick, clit getting caught on various ridges and occasionally twitching when a throbbing vein rubbed against it. You couldn't keep your sounds down even if you wanted to, leaning forward to moan into Bakugou's ear, feeling a shudder rip through his spine.

You were making his mind foggy, he couldn't stop his hips from rutting up, knot starting to swell even though he tried to hold it back. He couldn't do this right now, even getting this far dangerous, he was way too close to his rut and couldn't risk getting you pregnant, no matter how much that thought made his head spin. Fuck, he couldn't stop thinking of you slamming those perfect fucking hips down onto his knot as you begged him to give you his kids, pleaded with him to make you a mommy-shit

His head falls forward and sharp teeth dig into your shoulder, a snarl vibrating your body before your thighs, pussy and stomach are drenched with thick cum. He can't stop, hips jerking and thighs shaking as he roars into your skin, knot still swollen and sensitive but the burning need inside of him is satiated for now. 

Before he can even lift his head up to say something, he catches a whiff of arousal, and strangely enough it isn't yours. It smells more woodsy, intense with a sweet musk, somewhat...manly?

Oh fuck.

Kirishima.

Bakugou scrambles to get up, looking at you in horror and then looking over to the trees, catching a glimpse of dark red eyes before they disappear behind a nearby tree.

"Clean yourself off in the water, Kiri will be back soon."

You stare dreamily up at him, confused as to why he looks so uneasy all of a sudden but obeying nonetheless, standing on wobbly legs and feeling dense and gooey cum drip down your legs in long streaks, a nagging feeling in the back of your fuzzy mind telling you how much of a waste it was that none of it was inside you. You make your way back to the water, unaware of two sets of red locked onto you.

[lololollywrites]

Step. Jump. Leap. Step.

Just wanted to do a little throwback and reblog my first flash Friday challenge, which I posted last September. I immediately realized that the prompt - Leap of faith - fit exceptionally well into my existing two-work series “Earthly Pomp (is But a Dream)” as a short prequel, from John’s perspective. Here it is in its entirety below, but you can also read it on AO3 HERE.

__________

Fuck.

Fuck.

He won’t want this. He doesn’t want me. He can’t possibly. I don’t want me anymore, for Christ’s sake. I wouldn’t be… here if not for Rosie. Well, probably. I’ve not had the bollocks yet to ever go that far, despite having considered it at various stages in my life. Melodrama. Overreacting. Woe is me, huh? What a mess. Ella’s told me otherwise, of course. Sherlock too, though a swollen lip. Trauma. Grief. Blah blah blah. Boo bloody hoo. Plenty of men have been to war and managed not to extend their misery unto others. Granted, quite a lot more… unusual trauma followed afterwards, but there are no excuses. Eurus as my therapist or no. And here I am, trying to do it again. To force my presence. Why has Sherlock put up with me as long as he has? What could possibly redeem me at this point?

He looks so sad whenever I leave. At least I think he does. I’ve been trying to look back over my shoulder whenever I turn my back on him these days.

He bought rounded furniture after the explosion. I’d thought he’d opt for perfect replicas from before, but… no.

Rounded corners.

Baby safe.

He cleans. Before I come, now.

He bought Rosie a puzzle of the periodic table for no particular reason three days ago. About four years beyond her capabilities, yes, but his eyes shone with eager excitement as he shyly handed it over.

She loves to gnaw on the blue cardboard ‘S’ for Sulfur.

For Sherlock.

Jesus.

The black hole looms up ahead. I count my steps and try to align them with my breaths. Perhaps I’ll float when I jump in, like the freeing antigravity of outer space. Or perhaps I’ll fall, like a medieval castle oubliette. With spikes at the bottom.

Faith, John.

Whichever the outcome, there’s no choice. I’m drowning now. Utterly alone. A bit of myself is left behind whenever I step down from that seventeenth step, one more task removed from the post-explosion flat recovery checklist that’s kept me tethered to Baker Street. Not much is left now. And what then? What excuse will I have to return?

No. I have to jump.

I know him. I do. I’ve recently remembered that I’ve always known him.

I’d forgotten, for a while.

I don’t think he ever has. I think he’s been waiting for me.

I hope he’s been waiting.

The thought makes me indescribably sad for him, but the hope is all I have.

I think he’ll have me. Even if just for Rosie’s sake. I’m a shit father alone. I can’t trust myself. There’s no way he trusts me, either. I see his eyes narrow whenever he greets me; assessing my mental state. My BAL. The level of my temper.

I pat Rosie’s head a bit absently, closing my eyes and sucking in a breath of smoggy London air as I pull her closer toward my chest in her carrier. She screams; tries to escape. It’s just the instinctual response of a toddler to confinement, right? To wanting to get out and explore the city streets. To needing a nappy change. A bit of a kip. Some lunch, soon. It’s nothing about me. It’s not about me. It’s not about me.

Except I often feel like it is.

Before I know it, I’m standing outside of the familiar black door of 221 Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson isn’t home, I know. She’ll still be away with Mr. Chatterjee. They’ve patched things up, much to Sherlock’s chagrin. Something about just never filing divorce paperwork to avoid the headache. I was here just yesterday. I know this. I’m not supposed to be here. We hadn’t scheduled anything.

That’s what we do now. Schedule things.

He won’t be expecting me. I glance upwards – the curtains flutter, then shut again.

I – well. I’m not sure what to make of that, but it’s too late now. I fumble for my key, shushing a still-crying Rosie. My heart is racing.

The door opens. Sherlock stands there. His eyes are slightly wide for a moment, then his expression calms. He looks immaculate, as always.

“John, I wasn’t expecting you. Hello, little Watson.”

Rosie giggles. She giggles. From a right strop.

Suddenly I have no words. Nothing to say. I just… shrug. And Sherlock understands. He smiles, a little mismatched quirk of his lips and a crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home, you know.”

My breath leaves me. I feel like I might cry. I take my leap of faith.

Turns out, it’s only a small step.

[sbi-au-ideas]

“Technoblade” they called him. “The Blood God” they chanted. “Immortal” they gossiped.

“Young” says Wilbur.

Wilbur heard of Techno when he was 14. The rumors circulating him were spoken with awe, and held an air of breathlessness and disbelief.

Wil begged his mother to bring him to a tournament, and on his 16th birthday she said yes.

When signing up, the guards constantly eyed up Wilbur. They made comments on his height, buttered his mother up with compliments. His mother had brushed them off with a smile.

The tournament of The Blood God was amazing. His face was covered by a mask painted red. The eyes were big, gaping black holes, that appeared to leak out black goo. Wilbur thought it was cool at first.

Then the guards approached him and his mother. She let out a gurgling, tortured shriek, and Wilbur turned around to see a sword through her heart. They hadn’t even given him the chance to offer up his own life in return. They didn’t hesitate.

He’ll never forgive them for that.

He had been dragged away to the underground levels kicking and screaming. It was horrifying. Rows upon rows of kids in cages.

They put him in a cage next to the blood god.

At first, Wilbur was terrified. He saw how the man had taken down dozens of people at a time; an unstoppable force, a one man army.

Then, from above the incessant chatter and crying of everyone around them, Wilbur heard him.

“…. Hullo.”

It was jarring, how young the voice sounded. How that one word sounded like dead hope. Like when someone continues a tradition, despite how they’ve lost the love and cause that started it in the first place.

Wilbur stops shaking. The Blood Gods mask shifts slightly, looking at him more head on.

“… hi.” The end lilted slightly, a question on the back of his tongue. This entire scenario feels so unsure.

“…” The Blood God continues staring at him. The mask is really fucking creepy.

Wilbur hesitates. “Can you take off your mask?”

To his surprise- he is not chopped down right where he sits (the blood god is in a cage just as much as he is), and the Blood God slowly reaches for the blood stained, demon-looking mask.

He’s young, Wil notices. His hair is a muddled brown, sat on his head in a greasy mess. His brown eyes look haunted, and it takes Wilbur a minute to realize that he had been staring at Wil in silent disbelief- he’s nothing like the predator the media makes him out to be.

But like- he’s young. Like, Wilbur’s age young. The Blood God has been whispered about for years. It shouldn’t be possible.

The Blood God shifts uncomfortably, and Wil blinks back to reality.

“How old are you?” He asks, a joking hint of incredulity in his voice.

The haunted eyes in front of him blink. “…they,” he begins, hesitating. “They say that today I am 16.”

Wilbur gapes. What the fuck.

He jumps up from his corner, pressing into the bars closest to the Blood God. “That’s- that’s my age! I’m turning 16 today too!”

The Blood God looks a bit surprised, but doesn’t seem to understand the significance of two people being born on the same day of the same year, and meeting anywhere outside of a school. And even that would be a rare occurrence.

“I don’t-…” the Blood God stutters, “I don’t know what’s so big about that.”

Wilbur grins, big and mischievous, “it means we could be twins! Brothers! Family, y’know?”

Family. Wilbur suddenly remembers his mother. She’s- she’s dead. For real dead. He will never see her again, never talk to her again, never hug her-

“You think we could be family?” Wilbur jumps back to reality, banishing the thoughts of his mom to the deepest depths of his heart.

“Yeah! And, even if we’re not- I say we are! Who’s gonna tell us no?” The Blood God glances out of his cage at the guards subtly. Wilbur looks too, dramatically looking them up and down, before deciding aloud, “Eh, what they don’t know can’t hurt them.”

The Blood God huffs out a quiet laugh, a glint of something new in his eyes. Wilbur grins.

The Blood God looks at Wilbur. He only hesitates briefly, before announcing, “Call me Technoblade. I just- I don’t like being called the Blood God. You probably haven’t heard what they call me down here- I mean- you look new.”

“Oh! Well then you can call me Wilbur.” He purses his lips in thought. “Or, how about if I can call you Techno, you can call me Wil.”

Techno nods.

“Okay, that works.”

Wilbur looks out at the cages and guards. It’s all very… sad. He looks back at Techno, and the happy glint in his eye makes Wilbur’s heart swell. “So,” he begins, “what were you saying about me being new?”

“They always stick new people next to me. Scares them, makes it easier for the guards to threaten them. No one wants to be in a cage next to me.”

“Well they’re fucking idiots,” Wil states matter-of-factly, ignoring the anger that burns in his chest. “And we’re going to burn this place to the ground.”

Techno looks at him. Wil can’t make out the strange emotion dwelling in his eyes. “You- you want to escape?”

Wil reaches a hand through the bars, and Techno reaches back. Their hands are the same size, he notices. Holding hands, Wilbur makes eye contact with him and promises, “Techno, we are going to escape this shit hole together.”

Techno squeezes his hand with a faraway look. “… together, huh?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” Wil whispers back, “Together,”