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bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

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a/n: omg heyyy i make my grand return with my humble offering to @ohkento 's reddit theme collab!! i also have a piece for shouto coming up next, but here is the first one!! i took a while off after kinktober so if this is bad....lie to me!

warnings: dark content. nsfw. no minors. yandere theme gojo, no physical harm to reader, baby trapping, threats (not to reader), female reader, breeding, pentration, oral (fem!receiving), reader is kinda dumb lol.

summary: STORYTIME: I (28M) CAN'T STOP BREEDING MY GIRL BEST FRIEND (28F)!! it's a serious problem...i'm really reaching my breaking point here. i've been in love with this chick since high school and she keeps chasing other guys...but fucking me when the dates go wrong, help!

it’s been his dirty little secret since his years at tokyo tech. you’ve always been a looker, never were you short on attention from lesser men that aren’t worth your time—and yes, that includes when geto crushed on you all through the second year of school. but they never were quite what you were looking for, and every night of passion or attempt at a meaningful connection always ended the same—dialing up your closest confidant satoru to come console you and stuff your cunt full and wipe your tears–to make it better, like best friends do.

satoru was all too aware of your little predicament, because he had struggled with the same issues–except he realized his fate years ago and was determined to have it. you are his and his alone, no matter how many scrubs that try to take you from him. if only you would open your eyes. you were obviously hopelessly in love with him, of course—that’s why no one could compare! and that’s why you always turned your teary eyes and pretty pussy to him after yet another date gone wrong. he knew he was the only cure, and he’s given up on hoping you’d see the truth for yourself.

he tried to play the patience card, licking your tears off your face as he pounds his love into you, telling you that you’re worth so much more than those guys you keep letting break your heart. he tried being the nice guy that holds you after yet another promising prospect never texts you back–buying you dinner and bouncing you on his cock until you were crying from pleasure instead of heartbreak. each time, he buried his load in your womb until it was spilling out around him—hoping to give you no other choice but to pack your bags and move onto his estate to further the gojo clan with the very man at the head of it, but it seems your ovaries were just as stubborn as you are. he didn’t know how much more of this he could stomach—just waiting to be your knight in shining armor while laying in bed at night, staring at the pictures of you, both lewd and cute alike while wondering just how long it would take to have you laying beside him in his bed instead of the pixels on his phone screen.

he’s had enough. it’s clear his plan isn’t working as designed. you must be on birth control—which is both irritating yet complimentary to him. of course you wouldn’t let these bums knock you up. is it insulting that this applies to his seed too? of course, but then again the whole dynamic was rather insulting wasn’t it? fucking other men and crying to him about it when they aren’t the perfect man for you. no shit—no man will ever know you like he does. none of them could ever compete with the life he could give you if you would just face the music. he doesn’t get it either. why bother? why look elsewhere? obviously you’re attracted to each other—so why won’t you make the next natural jump and stop it with the drama-packed weekly bachelorette episodes?

that’s okay. it’s really fine. satoru is such a good friend that he’ll help you, like he always does. he would simply help you to the conclusion that he wants and then everything can proceed according to plan! it shouldn’t be too difficult anyway, you’ll be calling any moment now! you had a date with yet another sure disappointment that gojo knows will desert you as soon as the date is finished. he’ll be dry and boring after the promising conversations you had in the days leading up to the date—you’ll be confused yet again—and the guy won’t pay either, set for split-bill city. gojo knows all of this because he’s ensured that’s what happens, of course! and this is the thirty-sixth man he’s had to pay off to show up to the date and forget about you. a price he’s more than willing to pay no matter how high, though it’s definitely added up over the years. and you know what—now that he thinks of it, none of them deserve you because their weak nature and corrupt morals. he’s been proven right every time, each one of these bottom feeders would take the money no questions asked—maybe that was due to his threats of horrific death if they so much as answered a text message from you again, but who could be sure?

this one was especially easy to pay off, too. he didn’t even think twice about taking the money. it almost makes gojo mad. he clearly wasn’t heartbroken to walk away from you, and god you deserved so much better. you deserve a man that is willing to pay off any and every suitor that comes into your life just to make you his. you deserve a man so crazy about you he can hardly recognize himself. you deserve…well, him. he’s devoted himself to you for over a decade and it’s time for that to pay off.

your unique ringtone gets him out of his own head to answer, and of course, you’re crying and asking him to come over. pretty girls like you never learn, huh? that’s all forgiven though, as he is a teacher and it’s his passion to help you understand.

“of course sugar. i’ll be right over. mhm–don’t mention it. that’s what friends are for.” he hums to you over his end of the phone, picking up his car keys to make it to you in record time. you’re your same beautiful self as you answer the door and welcome him inside, though he can see the tear tracks staining your face. it makes him pout a little at the sight no matter how used to it he is. he hates that you let these cretins upset you like this.

“hey baby.” he pouts sympathetically with you, ducking under your arm to gaze around your familiar living room for any signs of a man he hadn’t yet heard about. he exhales a deep sigh when he finds none. he’s got his hands in his pockets, lips tightened in a knowing grimace. “so what was it this time? no—let me guess: split the bill and then he let you walk home in this weather?”

you close the door after he’s entered with a heavy sigh. your bleary eyes fix on your hand still clasped around the doorknob, “yeah.” you tug your lip between your teeth and turn to face him. you didn’t have to answer him, for he already knew. it was borderline routine at this point and you were already embarrassed enough. you draw your arms around yourself to feel your own warmth, shaking your head. what was wrong with you? you used to be pined after, wanted—and now you couldn’t even get non-sorcerers to call you back. you haven’t had a second date in years, nor had an orgasm that wasn’t satoru’s handiwork. but even he didn’t want you permanently. you were a good friend and an even better fuck, that’s all. you knew it was pointless to yearn for him, sure he felt nothing other than his ever-present sense of duty and loyalty every-time he took your pain away–no matter the lies that poured out of his saccharine lips to do so. your sad eyes fix on his face, letting your plump bottom lip bounce out from your teeth’s trap. he smirks softly, cock rising because it knows exactly what that look means.

but unfortunately for you, he won’t just hold you in his arms and promise that you’re worth so much more than you let yourself believe. tonight, he’s going to take what’s rightfully his—and his plan is already working beautifully. you never look away as you walk from the door to him, bracing your tiny and ineffectual hands on his chest. “what’s wrong with me, sato?” you pout, batting your long lashes up at him. his heart could stop just from that look alone. the comfort of his large hands covering yours soothes you already, making the tension drop from your shoulders.

“you’re naive.” he answers, eyes as bright as ever as they glow like fireflies in your living room. if you were going just by the expression on his face, you’d think he said something kind or even funny, the way he grins softly and blinks his white lashes down at you in wait of your reply. you’re sure you misheard—every other time you asked this question he always said, “maybe you’re just too pretty, huh? ever thought of that, sugarplum?”

“huh?” you tilt your head to one side, watching his expression shift to amusement. “naive? wh-what do you mean by that?”

��well, if you weren’t so naive, you’d know, now wouldn’t you?” he pokes his tongue between his teeth, tucking his hands behind his back while you still lean helplessly against him. he likes feeling the weight of your body on his, and he’ll like it even more when he knows it’s a permanent thing. “you’re on birth control.” he states, and your confusion sets in even deeper. your brows furrow, but you nod.

“yeah? what about that makes me naive?” you posit, used to his antics for the most part. you’ve been around him far too long to mistake his bluntness as an attack to you, even if it stings just a touch. though you did ask, and you have used him as your sexual relief and shoulder to cry on for years now. maybe he’s fed up with lying to save your feelings.

he looks around for a second, humming. “where is it?”

you also know better than to question him. if he’s asking you these questions it has to be for a reason—and you don’t have to understand him in the moment. just do what you’ve always done and trust him, support him on and off the battlefield–and never hesitate. it could be the difference between life and death. you learned that on missions together years ago.

“in my nightstand?” you tilt your head to the other side. he has to admit your astonishment is adorable. he smiles down at you, cupping your cheek lightly. his fingers are so long that his thumb rests on the corner of your lips, fingertips brushing back your hair.

“go get it for me.” he says as if he asked you to pass him the remote. you narrow your eyes to really study him—and then you see it. the teeming rage, the simmering crazy behind his eyes as they look at you. he is the most powerful man in the world, even if you were scared, there was nothing you could do but obey. but you trust him. and you nod. you turn to pad off to your bedroom and the clicks of his expensive boots follow. you’re used to the butterflies tickling your stomach as you lead him to bed, but you know something’s different this time. you feel like you’ll puke butterflies. but nonetheless, you pull the drawer of your nightstand open and fetch the little foil pack out of it, only a few pills missing from this month’s prescription. you turn to face him with it, mind racing on what he could possibly be doing. knowing him, he’s toying with you–trying to make you as nervous as possible and all this worrying is for no good reason.

he sits at the edge of your bed, seemingly watching you with interest. he’s happy that you’re humoring him, that’s for sure. not even the faintest hint of protest. maybe you’re not as naive as he thought. in fact, your effortless obedience has his the crotch of his loose hakama’s tightening quickly. your heart jumps in your throat at the sight of him as it usually does—satoru gojo is far too beautiful to be in your house, supposedly telling you why you couldn’t keep a man. the black compression shirt was nearly criminal when it was wrapped around his perfect body.

“good girl. now flush ‘em down the toilet for me.” he beams, blinding white teeth baring to smile at you. it was a simple request, really. he needed you to stop taking that poison and to stop entertaining the idea of other men.

“why?” you swallow harshly, voicing your underlying suspicion.

“don’t you trust me, baby?” he replies with a quickness, tilting his head to mirror yours. he’s doing well to keep himself together–you don’t understand his love for you yet, but he’ll take care of that. he’s a teacher, remember? “that stuff’s not good for you.”

you hum. the side effects have been brutal, but you’re hardly in the spot for a baby. you can’t even get a boyfriend, much less a baby daddy. “yeah…i know. sucks taking it. guess i could get an iud or something instead.” you think aloud, voice becoming distant as you turn your back to him and dump your pills in the bathroom attached to your small room. you really undersell yourself. you could have been his bride eight years or so ago and been living large. but he’s going to fix it now. his jaw clenches at that declaration, and you feel him watching you the entire time—the doorway a straight shot from the spot he sat in on your bed.

“no.” he says simply, the lightheartedness gone abruptly. it sends a shiver down your spine, makes your brain alert to the changes within him as he stands and cages you into the bathroom, broad arms stretching to block off the doorway.

no? he doesn’t want you to protect yourself in any way? that seems a little ridiculous, but maybe he had a good reason. “satoru…i can’t get pregnant right now.”

“why not?” he asks, looking over your little body nearly trembling from the darkness of his cursed energy growing more oppressive, nearly sucking the air out of the room. your heart pounds, more confused than you were at the start.

“because i’m…single?” you try carefully, not sure exactly what you were dealing with here. satoru has always been so happy-go-lucky, even when he shouldn’t be. you remember begging him to talk out his stress so that he didn’t explode right after suguru left. so this anger you see set in his features shocks you, his bright and clear sky-colored eyes are clouded and murky, more cerulean than you’ve seen before. his brow is set and you can see the muscles twitching in his jaw. but he’s still smiling, and that for whatever reason is still real.

“there’s that naivety again, princess.” he licks his teeth, shifting his weight from foot to foot. you look like a deer in the headlights, and he’s giddy at the rush that gives him. you’re finally in his grasp. “you’ve never been single. not since hmmm let’s see, march fifteenth, 2006.” he grins at you–”which makes all this dating real offensive, sweetheart.”

you want to laugh, but decide against it considering his unpredictability. you shake your head instead, backing yourself to the wall. “what on earth are you talking about? we’re friends–”

“friends that fuck!” he laughs a strained snicker, straightening his posture. “and make sweet hot love, of course. friends that cuddle on the couch and have sleepovers. come on. we’re both adults, don’t insult me. you love me! which is great, because i love you too. i love you so much i’ve made sure that no one could steal you from me.”

your brows must reach your hairline at that. “stop, satoru. don’t say that! you can’t mean it–fuck, you’re supposed to be married to a kamo or zen’in girl so you can keep making powerful gojo’s right? isn’t that what you always said in school?”

“you’d give me powerful gojo’s.” he smirks, breaking the barrier of the bathroom’s threshold by stepping closer to you, leaning down to be on face level. “i was only trying to make you jealous sugar! just like this whole stunt you’ve been pullin’, dating around to try to find someone that makes you feel like i do? tch, hahahaha—it’s impossible!! just stop it, be mine and be happy like you should be.” he grasps your chin with a surprising gentleness given his unhinged and maniacal laughter, smiling down at you with something you recognize as his power-trip going off the rails—but.

but you’d be lying if you said you were scared. he’s declaring his love for you in the most profound way possible, however crazy it–and he–may be. and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t absolutely see right through you. he has the six eyes after all, you should have known he knew what you were trying to do. you were trying to numb the pain of never being his…but you were actually manufacturing that whole scenario. you’re the only girl he’s ever seen, and it’s clear from the desperation mixed in with the insanity—he needs you.

you reach back and flush the toilet, letting the little white pills circle the bowl and disappear entirely. satoru gojo has always been insane. you’ve seen it firsthand on many missions and battles against curses and sorcerers alike. it just surprised you to see him turn that look upon you–but now you know it was just to get your attention.

though you don’t doubt what he’s capable of, you have no intention of pushing him to find out.

his eyes go from crazy to ravenous in seconds. you’ve accepted his proposal with hardly any effort and he intends to show you the difference between his sweet hookups and his passionate need to claim the woman of his dreams.

“so you…scared off all those guys?” you ask, raising a brow as your face still rests in his clutches. he swipes his thumb over your bottom lip, nodding vigorously.

“sure did, princess. i was trying to let you figure it out on your own…” he sighs, brushing your hair back behind your ears as his eyes scan over your body again. he needs to feel you. “but you’re not a quick learner, hence why i’m on plan b.” he winks, scooping you over his shoulder moments later. he puts you on your bed, the short walk made shorter by his teleportation. he’s just too impatient, brain swelling with the flashing images of you in traditional wedding attire and round with his heir. it all feels within reach now, and he has to try it out now. “gonna show you how bad i love you–you’ll never go anywhere else.” he mutters, lanky frame swallowing up your body, hips pinning yours to the bed beneath you. “you’re gonna give me a gojo and you’re gonna look so fucking good doing it.” he mutters, lips attaching to your neck reminiscent of the way they have a million times. though this time, there’s intention behind it—or well. this time you’re aware of the intention behind it.

in all your times together, his dirty talk has been contained to praising your body and how good you feel to him. his incantations to knock you up has your heart beating funny and wetness pooling between your legs. you make a soft gasp sound for him, elongating your neck to let him leave real marks of possession where you’ve previously resisted. your body writhes and twists under his as his teeth knick and nip bruises into your skin. he’d spell his own name with them if he could, even a ring and a baby wasn’t enough in his eyes. he needs the world to know you’re his, that you’ll always be by his side, that you were born to be his.

“that pesky birth control’s gonna have to wear off though–so we have time to get married before you get pregnant–if that matters to you.” he moans at the idea, hands sliding under your top to push it over your head. his mouth moves to suck the swells of your tits once they’re exposed to him, humming out his satisfaction at the warm skin. your head digs back into the mattress—mind absolutely drunk on his affection and devotion. it’s all you’ve ever wanted and now it’s right here, and from the man you’ve always wished you could have—how could you ever deny him again?

your hands pull at the fabric on his back, hips bucking up for a source of friction. he breaks away from marking up your chest to bare his to you, throwing his t-shirt into some corner of your room to be forgotten about until tomorrow. this wouldn’t be your room much longer anyway–you’ll be moved into the estate within the next two days, he wouldn’t be able to live without you now. then he’s pushing you up towards the headboard, ripping off your lounge shorts to reveal those cute panties he knows you wear when you’re trying to impress him. color him fucking thrilled at your puffy pussy lips indenting the fabric around them, making him groan at the sight. he thumbs at your clit through the cotton, sparkling eyes flickering between the growing wet spot in your panties and the adorable scrunches of your nose and the pinch of your brow from the pleasure he’s dishing out before he’s even really touching you. you’re so cute he can’t pace himself, needing to consecrate your importance to him in the best way he knows how.

you help him get you out of your underwear, shamelessly spreading for him after hundreds of rendezvous—you’ve lost your shyness and he loves it, loves seeing your neediness for him in the glaze of your pretty doe eyes and the way you swing your hips around to beg for his attention. “tell me you love me.” he hums, nosing apart your pussy lips. his cock throbs at the scent, and you feel goosebumps break out across your skin at his command.

“you’re the one for me, sato. i love you.” you whisper so intimately he can feels his cursed energy pulsing like the rest of him. he groans, submerging his face in your cunt with a genuine pleasure you’ve only seen from him. he loves eating you out, loves the taste of you on his tongue—loves how your noises only rile him into fucking the bed, whining and grunting with his own neediness that he could only unleash once he’s properly readied you for it.

“you taste so fucking good baby…so sweet down my throat. get loud, i don’t care it’s an apartment. you’ll be moving out soon anyway.” he smirks, latching onto your clit to make your legs jolt like they always do. it makes him giggle every time, and the vibrations feel even better against your sensitive bundle. he rolls it around his tongue, letting his index finger explore the wetness he’s helping you create. he pokes into your entrance, knowing how violently you craved something inside. his thoughts are confirmed by the way you clench around the digit, whining and bucking into it for more. he’s more than happy to oblige, finger fucking you with two long and thick fingers while his tongue works overtime on your clit. he loves watching you at this part, enamored by your face as your hips involuntarily jump from the bed, smacking your clit into his nose instead of his skilled tongue.

your entire body is warm, jerking like you’re receiving electrical shocks from the pleasure satoru reigns down, gasping and sputtering on the edge of orgasm just a few minutes after he started. it’s always like this with him–though this time was special because you knew your life was changing before your very eyes—that satoru’s energy was growing so rapidly because he’s letting go of all kinds of stress and pent up frustration and anger. “please—wanna cum please sato–”

“daddy. i’m daddy now. ask daddy nicely.” he chuckles as he leans his head against his free hand, curling his fingers into the spot he knows so well just to watch your mouth drop and eyes widen in absolute blissful shock. you nod–brain fuzzy from his constant teasing and his new nickname.

“daddy!! yes—daddy! please, oh my god—daddy let me cum!” you sound so good when you say it–it’s all he ever wants to hear for the rest of his life. he can’t wait for you to make him a real daddy.

“oh missus gojo can do anything she wants.” he coos as if he didn’t make you expressly beg for permission, lowering his face to your cunt again with precise licks, shoving your hood back to absolutely abuse your sensitivity. your legs develop a mind of their own and you’re spiraling over the edge before you can understand what he’s doing. floating balls of color cover your vision and you scream his name just as loud as he wanted. he grins in satisfaction, hands resting on your knees so he can push himself forward for a sloppy kiss; slick covered lips sliding against yours so you could taste your own essence via his tongue shoving its way in your mouth with a hearty moan. you match his eagerness, making out with satoru with more passion than ever before–because you both have the security of knowing it’s real this time. he maneuvers his hips until his leaky tip catches on your hole, his breath shaky as before he shoves in like he always does. you squeeze him so tight it’s not hard to believe why he lost his fucking mind over this pussy. he truly would do anything to make you his, thank god you didn’t put up a fight.

“fuuuuck–” he whines a little, finding it nearly impossible to even move in the first place. you feel the burn of his fat and lengthy shaft parting your walls like they routinely do, mouth dropped wide open in pleasure. satoru hovers inches away from your face, so close that the ends of his hair tickle your forehead as he picks your legs up—holding you by the back of the ankles before he sets a brutal pace. his nuts clap into your ass from the way he moves, length curving just right to fill you to the brim. he doesn’t even have to try all that hard to bottom out against your cervix, finding the way you moan and twitch so adorable. “this is why you have to be my wife—i need you for life, sweetheart.”

your eyes widen at that declaration–though you already realized that satoru would never let you out of his clutches again. you knew he would marry you as quickly as possible based off of his desire to also knock you up as quickly as possible—but hearing him call you that, first missus gojo and now his wife, it all felt so real. his cock slamming into you only drilled it in further, his eyes glowing brighter than you’ve ever seen. the air also grows its own electric field, suffocating and thrilling all at the same time. your eyes are glued to him, entranced by the feral look on his face. you try to hold onto him, but he’s moving so punishingly you can’t even get your hands to work, mind and body on cloud nine. “you’re so beautiful. i’ve been in love…with—you–for years now.” he says in between deep breaths, trying to contain all his focus into drilling you unconscious.

you shudder, feeling that was completely in the realm of possibility. his balls ache, the need to breed you just as heavy as all the other times you’ve come to him to clean up every mess of yours ever since he’s known you, the need to make you his in a way no one else would be allowed to—it’s carnal. he can’t stop until you’re full of his seed and it takes. he needs to see your breasts heavy with milk to feed his baby from. he needs to see you struggle with the weight of your belly so he can urge you to rest and let him serve you like you should be. he needs to see what the combination of your love looks like; what these last ten years of hard work would become. he’s painting your insides white and still pumping just as fast as before, watching your face tick and jerk with the pleasure you’re experiencing as you tip off of your own peak. he grins, shoving that cum as deep as it will go. he stops when he knows your body can’t take anymore, cuddling you to his chest until you fall asleep safe and sound. he has the whole world in his hands, and that’s never been enough. now he can sleep with a genuine smile on his face. he knows your body will regulate in a few months off the birth control—but that doesn’t mean he can’t get plenty of practice until then. after all, he has a problem! he has to breed his pretty little girl best friend turned future wife.

#kishibyesredditcollab #dark content #x female reader #gojo x reader #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen smut

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kthologue · 1 year ago

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keep dreaming! – gojo satoru

synopsis. down bad? … it’s gojo satoru!

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, he basically has a wet dream of you, you wear tinted lip balm, your first kiss w him (??), suguru plays devil’s advocate

notes. remember spring days!au but can be read alone. anyways, enjoy!! I am writing this while sick (yikes). also of course this wouldn’t be canon compliant if i had not included satoru and suguru’s dynamic! I tried my best to apply their interactions during the basketball match + while theyre leaving jujutsu tech as much as i can.

“satoru…” you murmur, looking up at him shyly. the two of you find yourselves alone in the classroom. a greedy smile plays on his lips, and you struggle to formulate words as your eyes travel from his cerulean ones to his lips. satoru can barely contain his excitement, the anticipation radiates from him like an electric charge.

“say it, [name]. tell me what you want.” he whispers back at you seductively, his eyes are spellbound onto yours. you whine before grabbing the collar of his uniform and pulling him onto you. your lips are soft, so soft. you were made for him, he’s sure, as your lips mold together. as a matter of fact, your lips are so soft that they feel eerily like his pillow–

"get up! we’re late to our mission!" suguru hits the top of satoru’s head with the spare pillow on his bed. the white haired boy immediately activates his innate technique to block his best friend’s attacks.

it was going to be a long day.

“it’s unlike you to wake up so late.” suguru’s hands pause over the shoji door of the classroom. his concern for gojo was more important than the imminent lecture they were going to receive from yaga for their tardiness. “plus you totally sucked today.”

their mission had taken an unexpected turn for the worse when the pair had found themselves stuck in an incomplete domain. the narrow escape was only possible as a result of suguru’s quick thinking with rainbow dragon.

the bandaid on satoru’s cheek is a silent testament to the mission gone wrong.

“i’ve just been tired.” satoru mumbles quietly, heat rising to his cheeks as the memory of the dream flashes in his mind. he was too deep in thought to counter his friend’s insult.

something was definitely wrong. suguru raises his eyebrows, “and it has nothing to do with the fact that i caught you making out with your pillow?”

“i– what?” the heat has spread from his cheeks to all over his face. he hopes his sunglasses cover the blush that was blossoming on his face. suguru lets out a breath of relief. satoru’s blush meant that the matter at hand was only trivial…

“don’t tell me you were dreaming of [name],” his best friend smiles knowingly. satoru groans. suguru definitely knew, he was just playing with him at this point.

their conversation is cut short when the doors slide open by themselves to reveal a certain brown haired girl with a distasteful look on her face.

“satoru is having wet dreams of [name]?” shoko remarks quietly, making sure her comment is only heard by the two males. “i would act surprised, but it’s not like you’re above it.”

“just who do you think i am?” satoru looks down at his friend.

“a real pervert.” shoko simply replied before quickly making her way back to the desk next to yours.

satoru’s eyes follow her and make their way onto you. like a fly making its way into a honey trap, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. too busy burning the image of you absorbed in your textbook, he absorbs every little detail from the way your soft lips slightly part to mouth the words of the book to the way your leg bounces underneath the table. were you using a new lip balm? there was a subtle shade difference from your usual choice. gojo makes a mental note to ask you for the exact brand for… personal reasons.

in his trance, satoru fails to notice yaga’s scolding. he had also failed to notice how suguru had already made his way into a desk.

“satoru since you seem so eager to continue standing, i assume you volunteer to solve this equation.” yaga angrily taps the blackboard with a worn out price of chalk.

satoru stiffens up, not because of yaga’s wrath, but because your attention has shifted from the textbook to him. you blink up at him, the image dangerously similar to his dream. satoru gulps, eyes quickly flitting to the equation messily written on the board.

at least math equations don’t make him feel like his heart is beating out of his chest.

it didn’t take a genius to notice how quiet satoru has been today. as if he were in his own world, you notice.

“i fear that i may have been giving satoru too much attention lately,” you mutter to your two other friends, mind running laps trying to recall all of the intimate moments you have spent with the white haired fiend— all of which could be characterized as highly inappropriate.

“you always do,” suguru lazily rests his chin on the palm of his hand on the desk across from you. after yaga’s lecture, the seats had been rearranged appropriately so that the four of you could enjoy lunch together. “lay some of your love on us too.” he gestures his chopsticks to himself and shoko who were sitting side by side.

one could argue that the subtle smirk playing on suguru’s lips were a lot more dangerous than satoru’s. you’re afraid that suguru has started a game that will only end with your downfall.

the silver tongued boy seemed to catch satoru’s attention with his comment.

“ha– mad that you don’t pull? get your own girl,” satoru speaks up for the first time, glaring at his best friend through half lidded eyes from above his dark glasses. the half eaten melonpan in his hand was long forgotten.

“last i checked, [name] wasn’t your girl,” suguru places his chopsticks back down on his bento box.

you could’ve sworn you saw an irk mark appear on the side of gojo’s face.

shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold, sips on her juicebox silently. your eyes anxiously flit between the two boys.

“if you’re still mad about that mission, step outside. it’s not like i’m the one savin’ our asses every time.” satoru grits his teeth.

the loud sound of suguru’s chair screeching on the wooden floor reverberates in the mostly empty room, “you and your uncouth mouth,” he accuses satoru.

shoko flees the scene. smart girl.

you were about to follow her, but suguru holds out a hand for you to stop,

“i’m just about done anyway. please, don’t cut your meal early on my account,” he looks down at you and your full bento box. the black haired boy leaves no room for discussion when he turns his back to leave the classroom.

when the shoji doors are slammed shut by suguru, your head whips to satoru who resumes eating his strawberry melonpan.

“what was that? you’ve been acting strange, satoru– what happened on that mission?”

“don’ worry ‘bout it,” you barely make out the words coming out of his mouth that is full as he munches on the pink bread.

you scoff, “you can’t just expect me to ignore the argument you just had with suguru. and that ugly bandaid on your face?” you point at the skin-colored bandage haphazardly placed on his face. upon further inspection, you also notice the growing eyebags on his face. it was truly peculiar to see any blemish on satoru’s perfect face.

he pouts, “are you calling me ugly?” satoru doesn't take pleasure in upsetting you, but the gradual way you leaned closer to him sparked an unexpected thrill within him.

“no, i’m worried about you. you’re being weird, satoru.” he was far from ugly.

as your back faces the window, the outside light casts an otherworldly glow around you.

“well, aren’t you an angel?” he tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, completely enamored.

“you never stop, do you? you’ve been completely out of it all day!” your scrutinizing gaze zeroes in on gojo who was mindlessly nodding with a dazed out smile on his face. “and judging by the way you’re all bandaged up, suguru was probably right! i mean you totally got roughed up. the great gojo satoru, wounded.”

satoru blushes at your angry face. he’d say something indecent, but he fears that it would only scare you away. if only you knew that the reason he was all messed up was because of you.

“it's partially your fault, y'know.” cerulean eyes blink at you sheepishly before being replaced by a newfound mischievous look.

he doesn’t miss the way your anger shifts into confusion.

"excuse me?"

satoru continues, “if it weren't for you appearing in my dream i wouldn't have been distracted by that incomplete domain.” he points to the bandage cut just below his right eye.

“dreaming of me now, gojo?" you raise an eyebrow. the uncomfortable heat that was starting to rise onto your face at the new revelation that gojo dreams about you is ignored.

satoru looks away, "can you really blame a guy?"

you huff, ignoring his comment, “i think yaga has a first aid kit somewhere in the closet.” you make your way to check out the forgotten door in the back of the classroom.

the cool sterility of medical supplies contrasts with the charged atmosphere left behind in the classroom.

when you do come back with the kit, your heart races, praying he won't notice the hitch in your breath as your fingers delicately tend to the nearly healed scratch beneath his cheek. satoru's ability to evoke strange emotions within you is undeniable.

silence envelops the classroom, broken only by satoru's deep breaths. you're so close that you can almost feel the warm gusts of air from his breath on your face.

"your body healed remarkably fast. i'm not surprised," you softly observe, your focus on the task at hand. satoru smiles, his eyes fixed on your concentrated features.

"yeah? well, i have an excellent nurse," he remarks, tapping the freshly placed bandaid on his cheek. "though it seems she missed one of my injuries."

you furrow your eyebrows. satoru points to his expectant lips, a playful pout on his face.

"no," you plainly state.

"aw, c'mon. kiss it better? i almost died today," he pleads, his eyes silently begging. you shake your head, unaware that it was your fault he nearly lost his head during the mission.

"you really want a kiss?" you repeat, catching on to his persistent request.

he nods fervently, his excitement palpable. was that even a question

you think he was pretty insane– requesting kisses from a fellow peer.

“satoru..” you murmur, leaning closer to him. his eyes were twinkling with excitement. the two of you were all alone, left with nothing but each other. this scene was all too familiar.

the sides of his lips quirk up into a smirk while he watches your eyes travel all around his face. satoru has been fantasizing about this moment since the moment he laid eyes on you.

“[name],” he says, his voice softer than ever, a privilege reserved for those closest to him—especially you.

just a few more inches and your lips will meet… just a few…

slap!

satoru blinks in shock while you giggle at his confusion. he attempts to ask what just happened, but his mouth is sealed. his hand rises to find a bandaid now on his lips.

“you’re cuter when you shut up.”

you seal your words with a soft kiss placed on his bandaged mouth.

...

gojo satoru explodes, his voice muffled by an adhesive barrier.

“m.rrry.. m.. mph..mph!”

extra:

all conflicts were resolved by evening when you had strategically set up a mario kart tournament.

right after you (indirectly) kissed gojo, you fled the scene, leaving a flustered satoru all hot and bothered. you ended up screaming into your pillow.. the same pillow that satoru was laying on not too long ago.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x you #jjk x reader #tbh it wouldnt surprise me if gojo was a conniving enough to trick you into kissing him #better luck next time satoru~!#remember spring days!au #rsd!au

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vexwerewolf · 6 months ago

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If we talk about the aesthetics of technology in Lancer, we can divide each of the Big 4 along lines of form and function.

IPS-N: Pure Function

IPS-N cares only what a mech does. It doesn't need to look good or pretty doing it - it only needs to be able to do that thing well. It's notable that the Raleigh, arguably the most form-oriented of the IPS-N frames, is also considered to be the company's biggest commercial failure - they strayed from their core design principles and got punished for it.

Harrison Armory: Form Follows Function

Harrison Armory still leans pretty heavily towards the functionality side of things, but it isn't satisfied with doing a good job alone. Yes, the mechs have to perform well, but they also have to look good doing it. There's no practical application for the Sherman's sleeveless coat or the Tokugawa's dainty little tassels, but they don't hinder combat functionality and they make the mechs look dashing. In comparison to IPS-N's coarse, industrial, almost unfinished look, HA mechs look stern, austere and imposing. There's a smoothness to them that you just don't get on IPS-N frames.

SSC: Function Follows Form

SSC is where we start to plunge into aesthetics-forward mech design. The Death's Head isn't six-legged because it's a sniper - the Death's Head is a sniper because it's six-legged. SSC came up with a mech design and asked: "what would this do best?" A six-legged chassis provided a more stable firing platform for precision weaponry, so that was what it did. Shapes and appearances are invented, and then a use case is discovered for them.

HORUS: Pure Form

It might seem weird to classify HORUS as "pure form" when their mechs largely don't have a consistent visual identity outside of the examples in the book. However, if we look a little deeper at the definition of "form," the explanation becomes clear: in some ways, HORUS is in the business of making statements, not mechs.

For anyone who's actually played a HORUS mech in Lancer, you may have noticed how awkward they are to actually pilot. Their statlines are, on paper, often very poorly suited to the sort of work they have to do. The Gorgon is built to attract attention and draw fire but has no armor. The Manticore is meant to be a front-line fighter but is quite slow. The Minotaur is meant to be a tech platform but has a low sensor range. The Pegasus' one functional trait doesn't apply to any of the weapons in its equipment package!

This is because HORUS mechs are designed purely as a testament to a certain discipline of technology. I remember expressing irritation with a friend's NeoGeo-for-X-Box emulator once, that you couldn't reconfigure the controller mapping so that it was easier to play with the X-Box controller. He remarked that it was meant as a historical preservation tool that perfectly duplicated the functionality of the NeoGeo, and that the only reason you could even play games using it at all is because that was a function of NeoGeo arcade cabinets.

That's how HORUS mechs are - their usability as chassis is broadly a side-effect.

#ips-n #harrison armory #smith-shimano #ssc #horus #lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #in golden flame #design aesthetics #form vs function

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savanir · 9 months ago

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DP x DC prompt [16]

Danny has been with the Wayne’s for a while now and his status as a halfa is starting to affect some things he comes in contact with a little bit.

At first he thought this only happened back in his old home in Amity Park because the ectoplasm samples were kept in the fridge, and though that does speed up the process, it turns out Danny causes the same things to happen just fine on his own. It just takes a lot longer.

This means he now occasionally has to replace or decontaminate some of his things every once in a while. and with the electronics the same applies but usually the protections that Tucker has made do the trick too.

Danny has been very careful, he never borrows anything that’s highly susceptible to ecto-contamination from the others and whenever he needs something from the kitchen he just goes to Alfred (he really doesn’t want to see how the old man might react to the coffee machine starting to act weird because of Danny). Just, the last thing Danny wants to do is inconvenience the Wayne’s by ecto-contaminating something of theirs.

It’s really only when Danny slips back into vigilante-ism that things go sideways.

And Danny really tried. His obsession is space, not heroism, so he figured he’d be fine just focussing on his education. But he kinda forgot about the fact that he just really really loves being a hero.

He loves the thrill, the danger. He loves giving a smackdown and just in general having a good fight, he loves helping people, he loves being a force of good. And yeah, he kinda also likes the praise, but nothing weird and overbearing (some people go way too far in their hero worship, but that’s a story for another day)

So after some back and forth and arguments with Bruce who, contrary to popular belief, was absolutely not thrilled that his latest traumatized kid who was being kept safe in the mansion so far now decided that no, he wants to be part of the family business too please.

Danny eventually threatens to just go out anyway without any of his help and that just gives Bruce flashbacks to the time when he had just taken Dick as his ward. Not to mention some of his other kids and… dammit.

Well then… Danny can go explain things to Jason himself once he finds out and is probably going to be mad about it, Bruce is not taking the blame this time.

So Danny (name pending, he could just go with Phantom again, but he also wouldn’t mind using something bird or bat related) gets back into the game once again! And that’s fine that’s cool. But back to the original point.

Danny figured that he would just do what he’s been doing so far with any bat gadgets as well, and maybe it would be even less of a problem cause he’s pretty sure that these things break a lot more often because of all the fights and stuff.

What Danny had not really thought about though is potential intense high emotion situations. Like for very specific example; Scarecrow taking an obsessive interest in him because of Danny’s ghostly ability to feed on fear (somewhat) and the situation getting out of hand, him getting very hurt, Batman having to carry him out of there while Danny was kinda bleeding a bit (a lot). Bruce being worried and Danny wanting to be anywhere but there anymore and-

Well, you get the point.

So, take all that and add high tech bat armor and what you get is suddenly sentient batsuit.

It actually took a bit for anyone to catch on that something was going on, but it was eventually figured out. and once that was the case Danny couldn’t really help his seemingly endless stream of apologies.

But how can anyone ever blame him for bleeding out on Bruce and the weird reanimative properties of said blood making it so Bruce’s suit can now “talk”

Bruce described it more as like a martian mind link, which would explain why only he could hear things. it’s probably only for the wearer.

It can’t move on it’s own, it needs someone to wear it. But it can sense things and react for the wearer and honestly all that alone is more than enough reason to find a way to exorcise it… if not for the whole,

“but if it’s a sentient ecto entity now we can’t just ‘kill’ it, we literally abolished the anti ecto acts just so that can’t be done anymore”

it’s probably a good thing the suit has grabbed all the ‘Batman’ and made that what it is. All the core values are there, so there isn’t going to be any risk of it killing someone at least.

Still though… what to do now?

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dp x dc #batman #bruce wayne #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #I love living armor situations in fics #maybe they can move BAT from the suit and just put him in the computer instead #Jason probably had a internal screaming moment when he saw the white eyes of Batman's cowl glow Lazarus green instead #maybe way later he figures out that the reason why it's always such a relief to put on a new Red Hood helmet after he breaks the last one #is cause he keeps ecto contaminating his own stuff

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dc-fanfic-sideblog · 2 months ago

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you’ve got me hooked onto your series girl 😖 i will take any crumbs you have available

The crumbs that are invading my brain rn is the relationship between the Batfam and reader

So like reader is on a full ride scholarship to Gotham University for costume design, on a special program for the arts created by Bruce Wayne

I like to think he gets to meet all the scholarship winners in person either before they get to University to ask about their degree plan or during the first few weeks to see how they're settling in.

Reader isn't from Gotham, so Bruce meets them at the Gotham airport (does Gotham have an airport?? I just looked it up and the fandom wiki says its called the Archie Goodwin international airport so that's what you're getting.)

and obviously this gains a lot of press attention because its not often that Bruce Wayne picks up someone from the airport. like sure he meets most, if not all, his scholarship students but up until this point he's never picked them up in person.

His security people are making sure you get to his limo safe and during the ride over to whatever restaurant he reserved for your first day at Gotham, he asks about your major and the decision to apply to his scholarship out there in Gotham and it's a little awkward because how're you supposed to act sitting in a limo with a billionaire asking you about theatre??

Anyways you get to some high end restaurant and end up meeting a few of his kids: Dick, Tim, and Damian. so you're not just alone with a grown ass man.

Dick and Tim are civil, polite, but Damian isn't holding anything back. Making snide remarks and just generally judging your ability to even survive in Gotham as a theatre major of all things

but honestly you're not hurt because dude you're like 11 years old, shouldn't you be reading Warrior Cats (because you don't know he's literally trained by assassins)

but you don't actually say that to him because you're not gonna mouth off the kid of the man that gave you a free ride to college, so you just humor him with semi serious answers

"Theatre major... really?"

"yup"

"How do you expect to survive in Gotham as a Theatre Major"

"Spite, obviously you've never experienced tech week while in the middle of finals"

"...hmm"

silly guy

dinner ends and they drop you off at your pre arranged apartment you managed to rent

Jason watches from afar as Red Hood to check out the new student Bruce met during dinner. Dropping in back at the manor to talk to his brothers about their impressions

They obviously don't think much about you because Bruce's met so many students over the years so they kinda forget about you until your proposal of interviewing villains in Arkham reaches their ears and now suddenly they're on high alert because what kinda plan is that are you stupid??

thats about all i got, hope you enjoyed!!

#costume designer!reader #dc x reader #batman x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #damain wayne #damain al ghul #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader

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heron-knight · 28 days ago

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so it’s generally agreed that every type of mech pilot has some sort of system in their interface that chemically rewards them whenever they kill the target and/or fills them with enough combat stims per second to kill a medium to large sized horse

Basically, all of us are united by the sacred wisdom of “emptying a magazine into a hostile point blank is the equivalent of using a Hitachi wand on max settings”

The question is, what about lower-budget mechs like those used by resistance movements? Those factions generally can’t afford the same brain-computer interface tech a lot of the time

Anyway, give me a mech engineer who used to work for the corporations before joining the resistance and is now trying to apply the mech design principles that were taught to them assuming they’ve got a corporate level of design budget, but now all they’ve got is whatever’s lying around on the base and interface tech that can barely handle an old-style noninvasive headset, let alone a real reward-feedback system— and as such they are forced to improvise to make sure the pilot is properly motivated by duct taping the contents of the shoebox under the captains bed onto the pilot’s seat and wiring it up to the trigger of the primary weapon

You see my vision here

(Bonus points if they’re doing this because the pilot also used to work for the corporation and piloting feels empty without the automatic rewards)

#mechposting #writing ideas #mech pilot

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hauntingrabbits · 11 months ago

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Batman my little pony AU. Part 2 here, Part 3 here

More info on these under the cut!

1. Sundown Mane/Batpony (Bruce Wayne)

His backstory & general situation is pretty much identical to every other batman out there so I wont get into it.

Other notes:

-His cutie mark is a masquerade mask that I tried to make vaguely bat-shaped. The general public sees his Cutie Mark through the lense of his reputation, and he leans into it heavily to obscure the truth. In interviews, he presents it as being tied to hosting galas (it’s the reason he started hosting those huge masquerade balls in the first place) and/or his fashionable looks, but in truth it’s far more representative of his stealth and disguise capabilities, as well as his masked night time hobbies as a whole.

-He’s not an actual bat-pony in any way, the bat wing appearance is just the costume (intentionally designed that way for intimidation, battle, and obscuring his identity further). Though most citizens assume he’s a true bat-pony, other rumors range from him being a vampire, to an Earth pony with false tech-based wings, to a magically disguised alicorn, to a spirit of the night.

-If Batman were actually to be a pony I think he’d 100% be an earth pony, because his big thing is relying on skill and tech rather than power and he has the whole “normal guy amongst gods” thing going on. HOWEVER. There are actual bat ponies in this show. How am I not supposed to utilize that somehow for the guy whose name is BATMAN? Also with Sundown I think being a Pegasus just fits the playboy personality front he puts up. I don’t know why, its just vibes.

-I think he just doesn’t fly much while patrolling as batpony, instead using his wings for extra jump or for intimidation and cover like with his cape. They’re probably steel-tipped or something too. He doesn’t rely on flight for advantage and trains entirely grounded because he doesn’t want to be dependent on flight and find himself lost if his wings are ever incapacitated.

2. Apollo Honeyscales/Two-Face (Harvey Dent)

Fascinated by the Equestrian legal system and craving a more organized society than what was offered by his generally disorderly and solitary fellow Chimeras, Apollo moved to Gotham to pursue higher education. Unfortunately, ponies are often intimidated by, if not downright terrified of Chimeras, so though Chimera cultures usually give each head equal social weight and three individual names, Apollo quickly adapted to instead try to present himself as pony-like as possible. He used a singular name and pronoun for his whole body, presented the less intimidating, herbivorous-looking goat as his “main” head, and eventually even took to having a faux Cutie Mark applied for media and court appearances. Prior to the attack, the lion and the snake head were never seen talking in public, and even in private the only ponies to have heard them speak were his close friends Sundown Mane and Glider Gold.

After being attacked with acid in court, Scales succumbed to injury and had to be amputated, while Honeybite was left alive but severely scarred. With this event, Apollo’s and Honeybite’s already fragile mental states from years of pony society othering them, the weight of their job, and personal repression finally snapped in their grief and anger, leading Honeybite to fully take the reins and create the criminal persona of Two-Face. Attempts from both Sundown and Glider and to reach out since have been unsuccessful.

Other Notes:

-According to the wiki only one chimera shows up in the whole show so. I made stuff up. -Chimeras typically being solitary is based on the fact we only ever see one in the show. This solitary nature would make it hard for them to have a widespread legal system at all, let alone to enforce it; thus Apollo’s original fascination with the foreign pony legal system. The Chimera in the show also has individual names for each head, each with a slightly different style (the goat following pony name conventions with the name Pumpkin Cake, the tiger following a slightly more violent version of pony name conventions with the name Sweetkill, and the Snake bluntly just being named Snakey). I tried to follow similar conventions for Apollo. I was most happy with the name Scales, because it followed the blunt snake naming convention while also sort of doubling as a scales of justice reference. Apollo is just a reference to Harvey’s nickname in some of the comics, and Honeybite is just for fun.

-His perfectly split coat is unique even among other chimeras, and as Apollo he was generally considered attractive and “exotic” by Equestrian media outlets.

-The temporary Cutie Mark application was done professionally. (Surely ponies have perfected this art, right? Like this has to be something pony society does and has services for, right? Ponies covering up embarrassing Cutie Marks, blank flanks covering up an embarrassing lack of a Curie Mark, Ponies getting Cutie Marks done for costumes, theater, movies, etc… you get it.) Apollo’s choice of a faux Cutie Mark is meant to serve as both a way of further integrating himself into pony society and a proclamation of his legal skills.

-Apollo was a genuinely great lawyer. Ponies on defense were often so preoccupied at the terror of having a lion and a snake silently stare them down that they wouldn’t realize it was actually the goat they should’ve really been afraid of until their entire case had already been ruthlessly torn to shreds.

3. Glider Gold (Gilda Gold)

Even prior to their relationship and subsequent engagement, Glider had long been Apollo’s closest friend and confidant. She saw the way his job and keeping up his image was tearing him apart long before the acid attack, and she deeply regrets not trying harder to get him the help he needed before it was too late. Multiple news outlets have been trying to get an interview with her and their efforts only increase every time Two-Face shows up in the news (despite Sundown’s efforts to dissuade them). She hasn’t been the same since the attack and Apollo’s disappearance, losing interest in her work and finding her friendship with Sundown heavily strained as they both feel the weight of Apollo’s absence.

Other notes:

-I wasn’t even going to draw Gilda originally because she’s such a minor character in Batman stuff but as I was writing out Apollo’s background she nudged her way back in. I like her too much.

-This version is based on her very first iteration where she was a sculptor. Her green coat is a reference to that version’s accompanying Two-Face (also his first iteration), who had green scarring.

- The choice for her to be a pegasus was mainly just to go with her silly name, but I do think being a pegasus would be beneficial to a sculptor. No ladder required to work on high details just fly up there.

-I am not immune to the bruce/harvey/gilda agenda

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tinfoil-jones · 4 months ago

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Jerk Ford AU: And This is Jack*ss

Their high school science teacher said "A perpetual motion machine is only hypothetical, because it is impossible, since its existence would violate the first and second laws of thermodynamics."

And Jerk Ford in response said "Hold my beer."

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

While he was building that (and the school was investigating whether or not Ford was actually drinking underaged), Stan had another set of worries.

At this point the twins had both already talked about applying to Backupsmore together, and while Stan was still worried about a potential separation, this time it wasn't because he was afraid of being left behind.

This time he was freaking out because if he went to Backupsmore while his brother went to West Coast Tech, who was going to keep Ford reigned in??

If Stan wasn't there to minimize the damage, who's to say his fellow students and college administration wouldn't chase him out of the whole state with pitchforks and torches or something?!

Stan wasn't protective over Ford in this AU because he didn't need to be protected from anything except maybe himself. If anything, everything else needed to be protected from him.

---

In a random dimension at an undetermined time between the 1980s and 2012, Jerk Ford and one of the many variations of Rick Sanchez pass each other on the street.

"What a d**k." They both think at the same time, but say nothing.

---

This is the same man who, despite also being aromantic, spent an entire year pretending to court an all-seeing, two-dimensional, demon triangle.

Jerk Ford had romantic speeches, lovey-dovey praises, drew detailed, flattering sketches, and built a functioning interdimensional portal that he wasn't intending to use.

Just to say that he catfished a God.

The limit to his jackassery remains to be seen.

---

Most interactions with other people on an informal level (and also formal) are handled by Stan on Fords behalf, otherwise nothing would ever get done.

Stanley had to actually beg Fiddleford to help Stanford with the portal project. Fiddleford and Ford are friends, but Fiddleford can only handle Ford for so long before he's absolutely done.

As for the construction of the cabin... a paid job is a paid job, but anything that required direct interaction was solely taken care of by Stan, or Ford as long as Stan was close by to mediate. Because the one time Boyish Dan tried discussing plans with Ford alone, it ended with Boyish Dan agreeing with construction plans only if Ford agreed to take the farthest available plot of land.

---

Yes, I am familiar with Nine Lives Lee selling his own hate merch. But no, Jerk Ford does not make, distribute, or sell his own hate merch. He was never an enterprising spirit.

However, he does steal his own hate merch. He's done it the times he snuck into their club meetings. The shirt he wears under his hoodie is actually a Ford Hate Club shirt; it's a long sleeved black shirt with this logo on the front:

That is The (Jerk) Ford Hate Club official logo, because they don't hate all Stanford Pines across that multiverse, just that guy in particular.

---

Jerk Ford's antics are often compared to skits from the tv and film series "Jackass", in fact the name of his dimension "PJC311" is derived from the host Johnny Knoxville, whose real name is Philip John Clapp, and whose birthday is 1971/03/11.

The funny, ironic thing, is that this is what older Knoxville looks like:

Considering that Jerk Ford is thin compared to Canon Ford...

Yeah, that's Jerk Ford guys.

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starsofang · 1 year ago

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141 and how they help you

tf141 helping you out due to you having a late/absent parent who wasn’t around to teach you

Ghost, who helps you with anything maintenance related around your house. Broken faucet? Shower not working? He comes by the moment you call, bringing along a set of tools. He shows you each and every one, explaining their purpose. He teaches you how to fix things on your own for whenever he’s not around, but if he is around? He doesn’t want you lifting a finger and expresses his displeasure when he hears about you attempting to fix a broken doorknob on your own.

He’ll grunt in disapproval if he sees you accidentally cut your finger or made whatever’s broken worse, shaking his head and gently pushing you aside to work on it himself.

“Don’t mind teachin’ you how to fix things, love, but I’m goin’ to be the only one doin’ it for you when I’m here, understood?”

Price, who helps you when you’re having car troubles. Doesn’t matter if it’s something small like an oil change, or something big like a broken part. He loves it when you call him, and he never fails to show up right away when you need it.

He doesn’t teach you like Ghost does, and that’s strictly because he wants to be the only one to do it. If he teaches you how to fix it on your own, you won’t need him around anymore to help, and he can’t have that. He certainly won’t let you go to the mechanic, either. Besides, he prefers it this way whenever you come out in the middle of him working on your car with a cold bottle of water and that lovely smile of yours as you thank him for helping you out.

“S’never a problem, love. Better to call me than a mechanic, aye? Got you a nice view, too.”

Gaz, who loves to help you with anything you’re unsure about. Pumping air in your tires at the gas station? Don’t worry, he’ll show you. Oh no, there’s a bug in your house and you’re too scared to kill it? He’s already on his way, leave the door unlocked! Doesn’t matter if he’s halfway across town, he’ll drop whatever it is he’s doing to drive all the way to your place because he can’t have you dealing with it by yourself.

They may be minuscule things you need help with, but he doesn’t care about that. He’s happy to answer your call and be there as soon as possible no matter the request or how silly you think it is.

“You’re not being a burden to me, sweetheart, I’d love to help. I’ll swing around and be there in five, yeah?”

Soap, who loves to teach you about tech savvy things. He knows you’re not the most knowledgeable when it comes to important things like your taxes, but don’t fret, he’ll file them for you as long as you sit with him and watch! He’ll even help you apply for credit cards because he knows you don’t have one, and he doesn’t want you to worry about finances, not when he’s around.

Or if your computer is acting up? Maybe it’s laggy, or pop-ups keep showing up on your screen. No need, he’ll sit for hours if he has to just to ensure that your laptop is safe and secure. Bonus points if he can’t fix it and he buys you a new laptop instead.

“Dinnae worry ‘bout payin’ me back, lass/lad. Ye needed a new one anyway.”

—

had to learn how to pump the air in my tires by myself today bc i don’t have my dad to do it, my boyfriend lives out of state, and had the thought of “man i wish a dude were here to do this for me” which is how this popped up in my head bc 141 would never let me pump my tires alone </3

#call of duty #cod imagine #cod #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #soap cod #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #john price #captain price #cod mw3 #cod mwii #cod drabble #self insert to heal the inner part of me without a male figure lmao

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ghostbustting · 9 months ago

Note

OKOK i’m thinking maybe this happens backstage two weeks after his burn incident. Maybe your just a casual friend and while your backstage helping him put gel on his arm he makes a joke about not being able to jerk off properly without both hands and you take it a bit too seriously and get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

this has been haunting my dreams for a week lord save me

𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀𝓎

╰┈➤“𝑫𝑶 𝑰𝑻 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼„ ๋࣭⭑

James Hetfield x Reader

Contains Smut

I sigh as I sit down on the chair I had pulled out next to James, my eyes on his arm, the skin red as he was still healing from the pyrotechnic accident he had not long ago at the concert they did in Montreal.

I wince seeing the state of his poor left arm, let alone if it was me who had been in his position, feeling what he felt.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I slowly spoke, “So.. you said.. the skin rose off..?” I ask hesitatingly, almost like a doctor would, yet my face was scrunched up as I try to image what it looked like.

James instead chuckled like it was nothing, moving his arm closer to me, “Guess you can say I’m immortal.” He say with a cocky and arrogant smirk, one that I've found myself rolling my eyes to for years. “Now chop chop, I got a show to play.” He gestured towards the gel I previously placed on the dressing table in front of us.

I rolled my eyes and huff, “Bossy.” I muttered.

My hand reach out towards the tub of gel and open it, placing it back on the table before dipping my fingers in it, gathering some of the gel on the tips of my fingers, not too much and not so little.

"How are you even going to play your guitar?" I genuinely ask, slowly and gently applying the gel on his arm, my other hand holding his wrist to keep his arm up.

James sighed in what seemed like relief from the cool gel, leaning back as he begin to relax from the soothing feeling. "Who said I'm playing the guitar?" He answered.

"Eh? Then who is?"

"Kirk's guitar tech, John."

I raise my eyebrows and avert my gaze to his face, a hint of surprise in my expression and voice. "The tall guy?" I ask. Pretty sure that John Marshall guy was about 6 foot.

He shrugs, his eyes on his arms as I continue to apply gel soothingly on the red skin, "I mean, you being short surely exagerates it." He laughed out loud, shaking his head to the point his blond hair shook like a lion's do.

My face scrunched in annoyance, raising my hand to smack his arm out of habit. It was a good thing he stopped me before I could actually hit him, his other hand holding my wrist. "Hey! That's not nice.." He huffed, his face similar to a child being sulky.

I yank my wrist back and roll my eyes. James' immature of a behavior was something I'm used to yet not able to deal with at the same time. So I look down and continue to gently apply the gel over his arm, feeling his gaze upon my fingers as I did.

"So you just sing then?" I ask, this time only keeping my focus on his arm.

I hear him hum at my question as his way to say yes to it. For a while, he and I stayed silent. The only noises were all the movements I did; grabbing the gel, applying the gel, grabbing more, and so on in a loop.

We can also still hear the loud noises from outside of the dressing room; laughters, voices, music, etcetera.

Not long after, James then spoke up again. Even without looking up, I can hear the smirk in his voice. "There's a lot of things I can't do with this arm in this condition actually." He sighed dramatically, making me roll my eyes for what felt like the millionth times today.

He slowly begin listing them off one by one, I had to force my own ears to listen to each and one of them, really. "Put on my clothes properly.. sleep on my left side.. play my guitar, obviously.."

For some reason, he trailed off for a while. Leaving me hanging and curious on what he could be thinking about.

Finished with applying the gel on his arm, I turn the chair I was sitting on and reach forward for the tub of the remaining gel and the lid. Thats when he say,

"...can't jerk off as well.."

I stop dead in my position, slowly turning my head to finally look at him, and just as I thought, there goes the smirk on his face, wide and proud of his own words. Any smart person could see that he was either trying to get a rise out of me, or tease me.

But today was not a perfect day for him to go around and play with me. Not when I woke up in a bad mood, got a bad hair day, ran out of toilet papers, and genuinely had a bad day.

Slowly, I lean back in my seat, my eyes' gaze still lingering on his face and the smirk he had proudly on his lips, how I wish to have the ability to wipe that off his face.

"Let me help you then."

Those words somehow manage to leave my lips.

My previous wish was granted when his smirk finally drops and his eyes widens. For once, his face wasn't filled with such cockiness and instead, filled with whaf seem like genuine surprise.

And for once, the James Hetfield stays silent. For once, the James Hetfield have no words to respond with, no witty comebacks, no laughters. He just.. froze. Quite unlike him, may I note.

Instead, the smirk once wore on his face was transfered to my own face, wearing that same smirk like the roles had switched.

Tilting my head, I let out a chuckle at his dumbfounded reaction. "Cat got your tongue?"

Slowly, I got down from my seat and to the floor, sitting on my knees right in front of him, his manspread position was quite cooperating with my movement, making me sit right between his legs.

I didn't even know what I was thinking. I never thought that one day I'd have zero self respect and just sunk to my knees right in front of my friend.

"You.." James let out a rather awkward chuckle, his body shifting in his seat a little. His body was no longer relaxed, his back no longer resting against the back of his chair, instead he was sittingup straight.

"You're fucking joking—"

"And you're fucking hard."

I rephrased his own words. As a way to answer his confusion and oblivion, my gaze slowly averts down to the crotch of his pants, where a tent was seen due to what was definitely— and surprisingly his hard cock.

Despite the wide playful smirk on my face, there was no doubt I felt surprised inside me at how fast he could get hard just by a silly joke I was doing.

Plan A was to joke around with him and go on with my day.

But seems like I've moved on to Plan B already.

Slowly, I look back up at him and smile softly instead of what was once a playful smirk. I tilt my head, slowly placing my hands on his knees. "Will you let me do it for you?" I ask in a soft innocent voice.

Angel to his eyes, devil to his cock.

James looked down at me with a look in his eyes that I find myself not able to read, no matter how hard I try to find a familiar expression through those blue eyes. For a moment, the heavy breath he let out was the only thing my ears were able to catch. Until he say,

"You have to take off my pants for me though."

Soft smile thrown away, my lips shows him a wicked grin instead, my teeth just ever so slighty peeking through those lips of mine, gloss painted over my lips.

Meanwhile my hands that were placed on his knees slowly travels further up him, to his thigh, then.. to his belt, where I begin to unbuckle his belt.

Our eyes were locked still to each other's. His unreadable eyes to my playful ones.

Yet the eye contact was soon broken when his eyes looked down at the way my hand was already starting to pull down his pants, tugging on it before finally managing to pull it down his thighs.

Once I did, I was met by little James. Wait.. already?

"God, man.. use some boxers!" I grunt and smack his leg, knowing damn well he did not have an injury down there.

He huffed, almost kicking me with his leg. "Hey! I told you it's hard to put on clothes properly!" He exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes at his excuse before turning my attention back to the.. thing.. in front of me.

My gaze was running up and down it, taking notice of every veins seen on the skin, the stiffness of it, and the precum leaking just at the tip. It was twitching just the slightest, something I heard was painful for boys once it isn't taken care of.

Well thank God I have my non existence dick then.

Without even thinking nor wasting another second, my hand grasped onto his cock. A loud sigh being heard above me, a curse slipping out with that sigh that I couldn't quite make out.

Slowly, I begin moving my hands up and down his shaft, somehow managing to be completely casual with it, trying to ignore the way a sweat ran down my forehead.

My fingerpads run over those veins, my grasp slightly tightening every now and then, which manage to pull out hitched breath from James, a noise I unexpectedly grown to love by these seconds.

"F-fuck..." He hissed. I could also take notice of the way his hips slowly thrusts up my hands every now and then. "Faster, damnit.. My hands are way more skillful than yours at this.." He grunted out.

I scoffed, finding it offensive. "Can't fucking say that with that state of an arm, can you?"

Seeking justice, I start to fasten up my strokes, my grasp tightening as far as I can, wrist twisting from time to time, meanwhile more precum seems to be seeking freedom, leaking out in beads from his tip.

James groaned at the feeling, "That's more like it. Oh fuck.." He grunted out through more groans and moans, "Good girl.." Who would've thought other than screaming those lyrics he can also let out such beautiful yet filthy noise like this?

Right, the groupies.

"Still think you're better?"

I spat onto his length, my spit making my stroke on his cock even much more slick, moving at an incredible pace now.

He laughed out loud, "Abso-fucking-lutely I am—"

Before he could stop talking, my mouth cut him off and silenced him. Though this time, instead of cutting him off with words.. I shoved his cock into my mouth.

Bad idea? Possibly. He was.. big, to say the least. Most likely not a size you can see every day, even if you're a cheap whore.

The contact of his cock in my mouth made him much more talkative and nosy, moans were heard more often rather than groans. Not that I'd complain to either of those noises.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" He yelled, one of his hand— his healthy one, travels down to my head, stroking my hair before gripping onto the strands, guiding me little by little as my head bobs up and down his shaft.

The tip of his cock would reach my throat every now and then, I had to force myself to control my throat as his hand was preventing me from letting go of his cock.

At the same time, not long after, he begin to become more urgent in his movement and voice. It was getting more and more crystal clear that he was close to release.

He groaned as he hold my face still, thrusting up into my mouth. "Fuck fuck.. I— shit!!"

Fingers in my hair again, he pushed my mouth down on his cock, my nose brushing against the pubic hair he had right where his cock starts. Tears wells up in my eyes, squeezing shut as they start rolling down my cheeks.

Soon, he began shooting his cum into my throat, the liquid felt warm in my throat as he continued to fill me up with all of his release.

Once he's done, his fingers finally let my hair have their freedom, allowing me to pull back, panting from the lack of breath I had all this time. He was panting as well, leaned back on his chair with his hand on his forehead.

"So this.." I panted out, "..this is what those groupies felt.."

Looking up, I see James shaking his head with a weak grin. "Maybe.. but this is surely not what they make me feel with those lack of skill in their hands.." He chuckled.

I watch as he lean over and wipe off a droplet of cum that was spilled over my lips using his thumb, which he slowly then place in my mouth, not wanting to waste a single cum without me tasting it. His eyes watching my face as I take in his thumb willingly.

"Definitely not as skillful as you."

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viridianriver · 4 months ago

Text

'Artificial Intelligence' Tech - Not Intelligent as in Smart - Intelligence as in 'Intelligence Agency'

I work in tech, hell my last email ended in '.ai' and I used to HATE the term Artificial Intelligence. It's computer vision, it's machine learning, I'd always argue.

Lately, I've changed my mind. Artificial Intelligence is a perfectly descriptive word for what has been created. As long as you take the word 'Intelligence' to refer to data that an intelligence agency or other interested party may collect.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back when I was in 'AI' - the vibe was just odd. Investors were throwing money at it as fast as they could take out loans to do so. All the while, engineers were sounding the alarm that 'AI' is really just a fancy statistical tool and won't ever become truly smart let alone conscious. The investors, baffingly, did the equivalent of putting their fingers in their ears while screaming 'LALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU"

Meanwhile, CEOs were making all sorts of wild promises about what AI will end up doing, promises that mainly served to stress out the engineers. Who still couldn't figure out why the hell we were making this silly overhyped shit anyway.

SYSTEMS THINKING

As Stafford Beer said, 'The Purpose of A System is What It Does" - basically meaning that if a system is created, and maintained, and continues to serve a purpose? You can read the intended purpose from the function of a system. (This kind of thinking can be applied everywhere - for example the penal system. Perhaps, the purpose of that system is to do what it does - provide an institutional structure for enslavement / convict-leasing?)

So, let's ask ourselves, what does AI do? Since there are so many things out there calling themselves AI, I'm going to start with one example. Microsoft Copilot.

Microsoft is selling PCs with integrated AI which, among other things, frequently screenshots and saves images of your activity. It doesn't protect against copying passwords or sensitive data, and it comes enabled by default. Now, my old-ass-self has a word for that. Spyware. It's a word that's fallen out of fashion, but I think it ought to make a comeback.

To take a high-level view of the function of the system as implemented, I would say it surveils, and surveils without consent. And to apply our systems thinking? Perhaps its purpose is just that.

SOCIOLOGY

There's another principle I want to introduce - that an institution holds insitutional knowledge. But it also holds institutional ignorance. The shit that for the sake of its continued existence, it cannot know.

For a concrete example, my health insurance company didn't know that my birth control pills are classified as a contraceptive. After reading the insurance adjuster the Wikipedia articles on birth control, contraceptives, and on my particular medication, he still did not know whether my birth control was a contraceptive. (Clearly, he did know - as an individual - but in his role as a representative of an institution - he was incapable of knowing - no matter how clearly I explained)

So - I bring this up just to say we shouldn't take the stated purpose of AI at face value. Because sometimes, an institutional lack of knowledge is deliberate.

HISTORY OF INTELLIGENCE AGENCIES

The first formalized intelligence agency was the British Secret Service, founded in 1909. Spying and intelligence gathering had always been a part of warfare, but the structures became much more formalized into intelligence agencies as we know them today during WW1 and WW2.

Now, they're a staple of statecraft. America has one, Russia has one, China has one, this post would become very long if I continued like this...

I first came across the term 'Cyber War' in a dusty old aircraft hanger, looking at a cold-war spy plane. There was an old plaque hung up, making reference to the 'Upcoming Cyber War' that appeared to have been printed in the 80s or 90s. I thought it was silly at the time, it sounded like some shit out of sci-fi.

My mind has changed on that too - in time. Intelligence has become central to warfare; and you can see that in the technologies military powers invest in. Mapping and global positioning systems, signals-intelligence, of both analogue and digital communication.

Artificial intelligence, as implemented would be hugely useful to intelligence agencies. A large-scale statistical analysis tool that excels as image recognition, text-parsing and analysis, and classification of all sorts? In the hands of agencies which already reportedly have access to all of our digital data?

TIKTOK, CHINA, AND AMERICA

I was confused for some time about the reason Tiktok was getting threatened with a forced sale to an American company. They said it was surveiling us, but when I poked through DNS logs, I found that it was behaving near-identically to Facebook/Meta, Twitter, Google, and other companies that weren't getting the same heat.

And I think the reason is intelligence. It's not that the American government doesn't want me to be spied on, classified, and quantified by corporations. It's that they don't want China stepping on their cyber-turf.

The cyber-war is here y'all. Data, in my opinion, has become as geopolitically important as oil, as land, as air or sea dominance. Perhaps even more so.

A CASE STUDY : ELON MUSK

As much smack as I talk about this man - credit where it's due. He understands the role of artificial intelligence, the true role. Not as intelligence in its own right, but intelligence about us.

In buying Twitter, he gained access to a vast trove of intelligence. Intelligence which he used to segment the population of America - and manpulate us.

He used data analytics and targeted advertising to profile American voters ahead of this most recent election, and propogandize us with micro-targeted disinformation. Telling Israel's supporters that Harris was for Palestine, telling Palestine's supporters she was for Israel, and explicitly contradicting his own messaging in the process. And that's just one example out of a much vaster disinformation campaign.

He bought Trump the white house, not by illegally buying votes, but by exploiting the failure of our legal system to keep pace with new technology. He bought our source of communication, and turned it into a personal source of intelligence - for his own ends. (Or... Putin's?)

This, in my mind, is what AI was for all along.

CONCLUSION

AI is a tool that doesn't seem to be made for us. It seems more fit-for-purpose as a tool of intelligence agencies, oligarchs, and police forces. (my nightmare buddy-cop comedy cast) It is a tool to collect, quantify, and loop-back on intelligence about us.

A friend told me recently that he wondered sometimes if the movie 'The Matrix' was real and we were all in it. I laughed him off just like I did with the idea of a cyber war.

Well, I re watched that old movie, and I was again proven wrong. We're in the matrix, the cyber-war is here. And know it or not, you're a cog in the cyber-war machine.

(edit -- part 2 - with the 'how' - is here!)

#ai #computer science #computer engineering #political #politics #my long posts #internet safety #artificial intelligence #tech #also if u think im crazy im fr curious why - leave a comment

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tennessoui · 25 days ago

Note

aaaaa can i request #44?!?

absolutely of course you can 🫶

[from this list of prompts]

[5. 'are you jealous' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you'

"Hey, hey," Anakin hears. Or feels, rather, as each word is punctuated by an ungentle tap against his cheek. Which is really sort of rude, considering that the last thing Anakin remembers is taking a grenade to the chest.

The least Vos can do is be nice to whatever's left of his dying body. He hopes the grumble of dissatisfaction he makes conveys this, because he can't find the energy to actually speak, let alone turn his head away from the hand on his face.

"No, nope, c'mon, Skywalker. Get up. Keep those eyes open. There you go. You're fine."

Anakin doesn't feel very fine. He feels disjointed and confused. He's in so much pain that it's honestly hard to focus on anything else, not even the blurry vision of Quinlan Vos' face leaning over him.

There'd been the grenade. So for all intents and purposes, Anakin should be dead, not dying. He'd been wearing armor, at least. Obi-Wan had given him his armor before sending him into the caves with Vos. He thinks. He remembers that, the way his master had taken Master Vos aside for a conversation that looked tense and unhappy, even to Anakin's eyes. And then his master had taken off the armor provided by the planet's guards--something heavier than what Anakin had, higher tech and sturdier--and given it to Anakin. It'd still been warm from Obi-Wan's body heat when he'd helped him fasten the straps around him.

His master. Anakin needs to--if there are grenades around, if the rebel group has access to that sort of fire power, if they're here in these caves with grenades while Anakin's master is walking about without armor--

"You're fine," Vos tells him, tugging once, sharply, on the padawan braid hanging down Anakin's throat. "Missing a bit of your side, but of your--your arm, but you're fine."

Anakin doesn't feel fine. Anakin has no idea how he feels. Anakin needs to find his master. He can't--

"Swear to the Force, Skywalker, if you die--I'm gonna kill you. Cause Obi-Wan's gonna kill me," Vos is muttering and Anakin can feel his hands ghosting along the site of the injury. It must not be good. He doesn't sound like it's good. He doesn't sound like Anakin's going to be fine.

But at the sound of Obi-Wan's name, Anakin forces his eyes open into slits once more. "'ll be fine," he tells Vos.

"Damn right you will," Vos replies, and suddenly his hands are tighter on Anakin, pressure being applied that lifts him up off the ground.

"No, not--" Anakin says, and he can hear the way he's slurring his words. He can hear the sound of his breath and the beating of his heart. "He'll be fin'."

It's easier to let his head flop down against his chest than to try and lift it to see where they're going. If they're moving somewhere, he trusts Master Vos enough to get them there, even though it's at least partially the man's fault that he went and got himself blown up. After all, he'd pushed Vos out of the way of the explosive the moment he felt it flying through the Force. So really, it's his fault.

He wonders if he should say that out loud. If Vos already thinks it, if it matters.

He doesn't think it matters, really.

"Oh, he'll be fine?" Vos asks, and Anakin's dropped--at least gently this time--against the wall of the tunnel as Vos pushes against a door with the Force. Checking for danger. Securing the area. "He'd be devastated, Skywalker."

"Get a new on'," Anakin disagrees, going limp the moment Vos' hands lift him up again. It hurts. It still hurts. And there's the dark promise of sleep licking at the back of his mind. It'd be so easy to fall into, if he could just stop arguing with Quinlan Vos. "Jus' a padawan."

Just a padawan, just an obligation. They've been butting heads more and more frequently ever since Anakin turned sixteen. That was a year ago now. Their quarters are silent usually, but tensely so. Anakin spends a lot of his time in places he's not supposed to be: the beds of other padawans, the Lower levels podracing, the occasional jail cell if he can't run fast enough. Obi-Wan, he thinks, spends a lot of time tired. Regretful. Unable to look at him, which rankles more so than the cuffs the Coruscanti cops have put on him to keep him subdued on the way to the jail.

If Anakin were to--if he--if this...if he doesn't make it out of these tunnels, Obi-Wan'll be alright. Eventually.

Except Obi-Wan needs his armor back. That's where they're going, Anakin's sure. He needs protection because it's dangerous down here and Obi-Wan gave his protection away, gave it to Anakin.

Vos huffs--some kind of combination of a snort of laughter and genuine exertion from the strain of Anakin's weight. "Alright, kid. Sure, you're replaceable. But I'm not, and if you die because I accidentally blew you up on a mission, Obi-Wan's gonna kill me. And he needs a best friend, so if you die, then I die, what's the man gonna do?"

Anakin lets his eyes close. "Needs me," he slurs out nonsensically. Not because they mean anything. He just likes the way they sound.

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to--oh, thank the Force, Kenobi--get your med-pac, he needs--"

"Anakin," and that's his master's voice, high and distressed and threaded with something Anakin can't name and has never heard before. "What happened? Vos, what--his arm, his chest--what did you--"

Hands that are familiar and roughly calloused and heart-stoppingly gentle cradle Anakin's face, lifts him up and out of Vos' hold, and Anakin registers a brief flash of his master's face--wide eyes, furrowed eyebrows, a clenched jaw--and then he lets the darkness overtake him. Safe. They're both safe now because they're here, together.

#asks #obikin #or like pre obikin #you know obi-wan really rips vos a new one for letting anakin get so injured #this is some sort of au where theres no clone wars #but anakin loses his arm anyway #and obi-wan overcorrects sm because he was so worried and now hes gone and let his padawan get maimed #that he doesnt let anakin out of his sight for years and years #anakin can't pretend he doesn't flourish under the attention #even if it did cost him an arm lol #ramping up the 'im weird about you' by about 10000x #anakin's still obi-wan's padawan when he's 21 and he's like 'master look i love what we've been doing lately'#given how much the silence and the fighting was him acting out for obi-wans attention #'but i am a young man with young man needs and you're cramping my style. i want sex'#and obi-wan is like 'this makes me very uncomfortable. yes you can have sex. perhaps leave the bond open though. so i can monitor'#for safety purposes #and anakin is like (tossing his hands up in the air) 'oh why dont you just SIT in the room WITH me while i have sex'#and obi-wan is like 'ok sure. yes. 100%. find a willing girl for that. i've booked the hotel room.'#and then they do :)

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