#but in this one the surroundings are so similar

[anarchy-and-piglins]

As promised: emduo-centric royalty AU with sad little child hostage ward Techno I can't stop thinking about.

Techno is the second son of a tiny kingdom. The kingdom is feared far and wide for its military prowess and the production of high-quality weapons. However, a lot of this reputation is hot air. Their numbers are actually small enough that a bigger nation could come and overpower them relatively easily if it really wanted to, and they do not hold any significant trade routes or harbors. It's solely their fearsome reputation that scares people off.

Or it used to scare them off.

Another (much bigger) nation led by King Dante came and took over, using overwhelming forces to their advantage despite their weapons and strategies being subpar. When they were done, Dante allowed the king and queen to keep ruling, but on the unspoken condition that it was actually Dante pulling the strings behind the scenes and every decision goes through him

Dante leaves some of his trusted generals in the higher ranks to ensure an eye is kept on everything, and as an extra insurance, he takes one of the princes with him. Obviously not the heir, that would be a scandal! But the second-born son would do just fine

Dante takes Techno in and to much of the outside world, they presume this is a wardship, as is common between allies.

When in reality, it's more like a semi-polite hostage situation.

Dante uses the military powers he has gained from Techno's country to quickly overthrow a few other surrounding smaller nations by aggressive, militaristic means. His reputation suffers for it, but that doesn't really matter when within a blink of an eye, Dante is ruling over the 'United Nations of Hypixel', one of the biggest countries in the world and thus a significant player on the political stage.

The other countries that remain are of similar huge size and a lot stronger than any of the smaller countries Dante trampled thus far though. And while Dante is greedy, he's not a moron. So he knows that going to war with any of them heedlessly would be a bad idea.

So he changes tactics. He sends delegations, he invites nobles and other royals, and tries to make diplomatic treaties. Maybe there's a little bit of assassination and blackmailing and information laundering and stuff going on too but shhhhh. No need to worry about that, Dante is proving he can play nice.

Techno, eight when he was taken from his home, remains at the court all the while.

To the outside world, he's living a cushy life as a prince. They only see a spoiled little boy who has everything he could ever wish for, lavish clothes and fancy food and servants helping him with whatever he wants. Little do people know that's only the image Dante wants to project, now that he's trying to play nice with other countries. The fine silk and heavy velvet hide the scars and bruises Techno gets from Dante and his generals behind closed doors.

Hell, even from the servants. Dante has made it clear he doesn't care how Techno gets treated by them, as long as they don't inflict permanent damage.

Others wouldn't know that those fancy public appearances are the only times Techno gets to eat proper food, and even then Dante will punish him if he eats too much during them. He can't appear greedy, after all. But Techno has been taught politeness. And how to decline courteously. He's been taught manners.

He's been taught how to obey Dante perfectly, and be a sign to others for Dante's goodwill.

Of course, anybody who would actually bother to investigate this with more than a passing glance could see that Techno is being horribly abused.

The problem is that they don't give it more than a passing glance.

The truth of the matter is that Dante has skewed the narrative enough to make Techno's nation seem like even more of a bloodthirsty, war-mongering one many people already believed it was. And Dante is merely the man who has leashed the feral beast.

They're allies now, and people don't like Dante, but they don't like Techno's family and the nation he came from even more. So even most outsiders coming to the court will avoid Techno when possible, or even regard him with disdain and mistreat him.

Commoners hate him for being royalty and being a symbol of the nation that caused so much war, royals/nobles from other countries hate him for his heritage, Dante and his men just hate him, period.

Techno can't catch a break.

His only hope is to wait until this is over. He's turning twelve in a few weeks. He misses home.

[Dante tells Techno that his parents don't want him back

Dante says that since he has secured his position enough and the game has changed, he doesn't really need a hostage anymore. But he asked Techno's parents, and they said they didn't care to have him back.

They were always rather cold to Techno, would always tell him he was an accident and the only son they needed was Billiam, Techno's older brother. The heir. It saves them the trouble of having to stage an 'accidental death' for Techno down the line, when his existence becomes a threat to the succession rights.

But maybe part of Techno had still been wishing they loved him.

Sometimes, Dante wonders out loud if publicly executing Techno would be a good move for his reputation; especially since people hate Techno's family so much.

If Techno shows fear at the prospect of death, Dante punishes him. So very quickly Techno becomes numb to that too.]

Techno doesn't really have anybody in his corner at this point. Until Phil comes to court.

Phil is the emperor of the Antarctic Empire, a nation far up in the north. The country is harshly cold and rather mountainous. It's also almost entirely self-sufficient, despite the strange climate it manages to completely feed its populace and provide its own resources. It barely trades with the outside world and since the borders are lined by a mountain pass on the south and oceans on all other sides, it doesn't see a lot of travelers. It is, for all intents and purposes, an enigma. Some people rumor it doesn't exist.

The country also manages to stay out of any foreign politics 90% of the time because of its solitude, so having the emperor come out himself for a summons is quite something.

[Dante send the invite not expecting a response. It was more of a formality, honestly. Because not at least addressing the Antarctic Empire would have been worse, in terms of what's polite. And he can't risk catching their ire.

Little does Dante (or anybody else) know, but the Antarctic Empire is very aware of what's going on past their borders, because of a spy network all official documents simply refer to as 'the crows'. So Phil and Kristin have been keeping informed on the fact that somebody was making The Next Big Nation (tm) and that it could spell trouble later. Phil came down to see what's up.]

Phil knows about Techno's nation/family too, through the crows. But Phil also has a very strict policy that boils down to "the crows are little shits and they lie". Or more accurately, Phil knows how to treat secondhand information and always takes it with a grain of salt. That's why when something truly matters, he goes down there himself instead of sending somebody to speak for him like most other royals do.

And thus, Phil is the first one who tries to scrutinize Techno's situation and ends up going "Hey what the fuck! this is not how you treat a child."

He knows the Blade family does not make allies, and that Techno is a hostage. Slowly he starts to befriend the boy, who is extremely reluctant to extend any trust, while also not pissing off Dante or starting a war. It's a work in progress, but Phil is a stubborn bastard.

His original intention is to get Techno back home to his family. Until he finds out the truth of how Techno is treated there too - the proverb 'out of the frying pan, into the fire' comes to mind, perhaps.

That's when Phil goes "free sonboy" and takes Techno home instead.

Slow bonding and healing ensues, naturally <3 (also I'll post a link to my drabble in the replies)

#technoblade #philza #thoughts #shara writes #still no name for the au i'm just fond of it

[renlyslittlerose]

This was somewhat inspired by a conversation I had with @bunnywan, alongside my own bout of insomnia that's been kicking my skinny little ass the last couple weeks~ ✨

Basically, Obi-Wan can't sleep without his Padawan there to smother him with affection~

****

Obi-Wan had never been one to seek out physical affection.

It wasn’t as if he were averse to it. A casual hug here, the brush of shoulders there, the occasional peck on the cheek when greeting an old friend - these were acceptable and even somewhat desired when in the company of those he enjoyed. But he’d never gone out and sought those sorts of things; never craved the warmth of someone else’s arms wrapped around him, their breath spreading across his cheek, their heartbeat heard and felt as it steadily thundered against both their breasts.

Obi-Wan enjoyed his personal space.

That was, until he met Anakin.

The boy had no concept of the word personal space, let alone the means by which to apply them in his day to day. He desired to be close to those around him, seeking out their affections both in word and deed. He held Obi-Wan’s hand as they walked the halls, only dropping it once they passed Padawans of a similar age. When they sat together Anakin would press up against Obi-Wan’s side, curling up like a lothcat as he leaned his entire weight until Obi-Wan was forced to push back - just a little, just enough to make it a game between them. He’d kiss Obi-Wan’s cheek and expect the same in return. And when times grew idle and quiet just before bed, Obi-Wan would undo and then braid Anakin’s tendril of hair just behind his ear, calloused fingers working though the ever lengthening hairs as Anakin rambled on about his day.

As Anakin grew he remained affectionate. Hand holding turned into their shoulders brushing as they walked, black cotton robes blending with Obi-Wan’s cream ones as they strode through the halls together. When they sat side by side their thighs would press together, and when across their knees brushed. Hair braiding turned to careful brushing, Obi-Wan’s hands replaced with a comb as he tried to detangle Anakin’s knotted curls, all the while Anakin sat between his legs and spoke as he’d done years before.

When their relationship shifted, long held suppression finally giving in to gasps of pleasure and firm grips along sweat slick backs, Anakin’s affection only grew. He held Obi-Wan closely as they kissed and moved together, pressing their forms in as tight as he could, not contented with even an inch between them. He’d press his face against Obi-Wan’s neck and bite, grip his body until pale skin bruised and blemished, sink into Obi-Wan’s willing body and stay tucked deep inside until the satisfying ache gave way to pain that skittered and burned. Debauched words would spill from his lips; of staying inside for forever; of painting their messed in each other's guts until they were stained by one another, and until their existence were etched upon their bones and became the marrow that made them.

And slowly but surely, day by day, year by year, Anakin’s obsession became Obi-Wan’s.

And no more so was this dependency felt, then when they couldn’t share a bed.

He found himself craving Anakin’s closeness - to feel his breath along his skin, his heat along his shoulder, his spit inside his mouth. He wanted him near in all ways, wrapped up with him if not in person than in the Force, their bond strengthening until it was impossible to break.

Without Anakin near him, surrounding him and holding on to him, Obi-Wan felt lost.

Whenever they were separated for any extended period of time, Obi-Wan knew he was in for a sleepless few days or weeks. Without Anakin practically strangling him in his sleep - his arms wrapped tight around his torso or neck, legs tangled with his own, Anakin’s drool slipping down his neck and sticking to his shoulders - Obi-Wan struggled to find the sweet release of sleep. Even when exhausted, it wouldn’t come easily, Obi-Wan’s mind tumbling and turning around in his mind, kicking up a racket that wasn’t able to be quieted without the familiar heartbeat of another.

Obi-Wan would lie awake for hours, staring up at the ceiling with his blankets tangled up around him as he wished for the weight of Anakin next to him. Even his well practiced meditations ceased to work, Obi-Wan’s mind never quieting long enough for him to find the release he sought.

He gave up about six months into the war, and instead became unwillingly addicted to caf and relied on the buttresses of the Force to see him through the days or weeks he was without Anakin. Bags under his eyes became an unwelcome but familiar presence in his life, as did excessive yawning and a practice hand-wave away whenever a fellow Jedi or Clone asked if he was alright.

It helped that everyone else was just as tired as he was, though for different reasons.

So when the inevitable reunion did happen, Obi-Wan knew just how to celebrate.

Anakin’s laughter broke through the hum of the ship around them. He stumbled into Obi-Wan’s room on the Negotiator, footsteps heavy across the metal floor as he whirled around to look at Obi-Wan. He had a cut along his jaw, already scabbed over but still purple from the bruising, and his hair was even more messy than normal, Obi-Wan knowing that he’d neglected to take care of himself more than usual. Yet he still looked comforting - long limbs perfect for holding on to, broad chest firm and warm, voice soft and delicate as it bounced around Obi-Wan’s body and soothed the aches he had with a charming laugh or an easy sigh.

With greedy hands he began pulling at Anakin’s robes, fingers making quick work even as Anakin peppered his neck and jaw with kisses, laughter still spilling out from between his lips. But when Anakin made move to grab at Obi-Wan’s cock, he slapped his hand away and pushed him toward the bed.

“We’re not doing that right now,” Obi-Wan chided.

“How come?” Anakin asked, a pout on his lips even as he undressed the rest of the way, keeping his hands to himself.

He felt as if he could collapse into the depths of sleep right then and there, his entire body hurting with exhaustion. Anakin’s presence was only exacerbating his fatigue, as if his mere presence signaled something in the primordial muck of his body, letting him know that sweet relief would soon be coming.

“Because I’m exhausted,” Obi-Wan replied as he made his own quick work of his clothes. Once nude, he approached Anakin and pushed him down on to the narrow cot. Normally the cramped space wasn’t ideal, the pair having to be mindful of their elbows and knees and where they were in relation to one another. But today it was perfect - closed in and intimate, keeping them tucked tight together.

Grabbing the blanket from the end of the bed, Obi-Wan let Anakin settle before he joined him. Squeezing up against Anakin, Obi-Wan threw the blanket over them both before grabbing Anakin and holding him close. Immediately Anakin’s scent enveloped him - the musk of his skin, the leathers of his tabards, the military issues soaps. His skin was hot, his hands broad and firm along Obi-Wan’s back, callouses and metal soothing as they ran along his back.

If Obi-Wan pressed in close enough, he could almost feel Anakin’s heartbeat against his own, the two syncing up until they were one in the same.

Tucking his chin over Anakin’s shoulder, Obi-Wan rolled them over, pushing Anakin into the thin mattress as he melded their bodies together. Anakin moved with ease, laughter lighter and fluttering until it fell into a satisfied sigh.

“Missed you,” Anakin mumbled, his lips soft against Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

Obi-Wan didn’t even have the strength to reply in turn and instead fell into the sweet release of sleep, wrapped tight around the body of the only person who could give him such tranquility.

#obikin #star wars fanfiction #lemon fanfiction

[oceansssblue]

Hello, I hope that you are having an amazing day. If requests are still open, I have a funny Star Wars prompt/or/oneshot if you want. You know how in Top Gun, after Maverick flirts with a lady at a bar, only to find out the next day that she is his superior officer. What about a similar situation in the Clone Wars era, in which one of the members of the Bad Batch, or one of the 501st like Fives, flirts with a female Jedi reader (who's probably in her early twenties) at the 79s, not knowing that she is a Jedi General. Only to find out the next day that she is the Jedi General assigned to them for their next mission.

Her appearance in the bar makes her look nothing like a Jedi. She just looks like a civilian until she is in her jedi robes the next day. She doesn't deliberately deceive them or anything. She just wanted to unwind after an undercover mission. She just didn't think bringing up that she is a Jedi was important, she assumed they already knew. The only hint she gave on their "date" night was a happy and playful "see you tomorrow" as they part ways to get to their respective homes/barracks. She is happy to see them the next day.

Cool fun little oneshot! Decided to go with Crosshair, seems more like his thing.

Hope you like it!

Xx,

Sky.

"SEE YOU TOMORROW"

CROSSHAIR/F REDADER 📩💖

WARNINGS: ALCOHOL, FLIRTING&TEASING.

Your muscles still ache after a two year undercover mision in Alcaz. Spending long hours of running and hiding in the capital will do that to anyone; even a Jedi. Your first mision with the Order started years ago; even if you're still young right now. Everyone starts early these days; you went from youngling to padawan and Jedi Knight in just a blink of an eye. The war makes you feel older than what you really are.

It's weird being back in Coruscant. Back in a normal setting were you don't need to constantly be aware of your surroundings –even if it's instinctual, now–; where you're not constantly in danger. Entering 79's, your eyes quickly flickering over the crowd of tipsy clones and the dance floor, a tiny smile makes it up to your face. You feel inmediately relieved, somehow. You don't need to pretend here. You don't need to be a soldier, a Jedi Knight, a General. You don't have responsabilities and lifes dangling from your shoulders. Here, right now, you can just be you, a simple girl in her twenty-two's.

Happy smile still in your face, you make your way towards the bar. You order a sweet drink light on the alcohol side to start with; turning around and taking small sips while you scan the bar distractedly. There's a few eyes on you already. Not because you're necesarily pretty –though you believe yourself to look alright–; but simply necause you're one of the few natives around here, and more so a woman. Clones will always be ever the gentleman, it's ingrained in their discipline, their sense of honor; but they're still men, real humans, and they have urges like everyone else. Like Jedis do, too, no matter what many people think.

You're not really in the mood for sex, though. You're too tired for that; your plan is to spend a few hours drinking and chatting and then return to the Temple. You've got a meeting tomorrow, and you should make sure you get your well deserved, comfortable sleep. You're almost drooling thinking of a bed already, but you'd like to unwind a bit first; even though your body is tired, you feel your mind too active to surrender to dreamland yet. Plus, you need to disconect from your previous mision and adapt to your new situation; to the new changes.

A few troopers that you had the chance to meet before starting your jump around the galaxy to serve to the Jedi and the Republic recognises you, and you quickly find yourself chatting amicably in a booth with them. They're kind, and perfectly respectful; they speak to you as if you were a normal person, though –not a general, not a Jedi–, and you soon fall into a relaxed posture and a lazy smile. None of you speak about war, about their fears and worries; but of hopes and desires, jokes and secret lovers that await for them patiently all over Coruscant. Some look flustered after realising they've confessed such things in front of you; but you just shake your head and smile. You're glad they're finding some happiness wherever they can.

On your third drink in –and probably the last one, judging by your flushed cheeks and the low hum of carefree excitement & arousal spreading inside of you– you feel another stare on you. It's heavy, it's intent so clear it's almost screaming at you; and you listen to your Jedi instincts, eyes slowly flickering around the bar to find it's owner.

You come up with a pair of dark brown eyes. They're the exact same shade of most of the clones in the GAR; and yet, it's stare so much more intense. It could almost cut through you and hit someone on the other side.

You study him curiously in the same way he has been observing you before. Even sitting down in a booth with some other soldiers, you can tell he's taller than most; the shape of his body and muscles long and thin, agile, though still strong. It's impossible not to notice the tattoo around his right eye; it fits him well, really. What surprises you most about him –besides his stare– is his hair, though; a mix of greys so pretty it almost shines under the lights of the 79's.

He's still dressed up on armour, like a lot of other soldiers on the bar. His is black and grey with a few stripes of dark red; a white skull with a "99" underneath it on his right pauldron. It's right then and there when you understand who he is, who they are; and your eyes twinkle in amusement, your smile widening. This is Clone Force 99, the squad that will be under your command. The Council told you they were different, that they had special abilities very useful for battles; but they fail to mention you they were literally, physically different as well.

You understand... Crosshair's –he must be– cautious and curious study then; he might be wanting to find out who exactly their new General is, and how does she behave when she's not on duty like everyone else.

You shoot him a grin and Crosshair's neutral, almost uniterested face turns into a smirk. He arches an eyebrow, and makes a gesture with his head; a welcome for you to join them in their table. You nod and say your goodbyes to the troopers; smiling and shooting one or two more playful comments before making your way across the room, walking confidently to this squad of extraordinary men.

"Hey there, boys" you greet them, deciding for informality in order to not spoil their night of fun from the start. "Care if I join?"

There's various reactions around the table. Crosshair looks amused. Echo and Tech are purely surprised –the later one quickly scanning you almost as if trying to find information about you with just his eyes–; while Hunter looks hesitant. Wrecker is openly excited and happy.

"Yeah, take a sit!" He pushes his brothers to one side, making room for you in the circular booth their sitting in, ignoring the other's quiet, pained grunts.

They all look a little tipsy too.

You chuckle and take the offer, letting down your drink on top of the table and sitting besides Wrecker. Crosshair arches his eyebrow again, still finding amusing how you seem confident enough in a table –a bar– surrounded by men. He likes confidence in a woman, but such levels are a bit more rare.

"Comfortable?" He asks, his voice deep and smooth, almost a lazy drawl, and you grin back at him.

"Very" you answer, emphasising your answer by taking a long sip of your alcohol and laying lazily against the booths backrest.

After holding his stare for a few seconds, you turn your attention back to the rest of the group; scanning them curiously. They do de same with you.

"So, didn't have time to do a change of clothes?" You point out. "Did you come back from a mission today, or is this just an night outfit choice?"

Wrecker laughs, will Echo and Hunter show a tiny smile. Tech is completely serious still, lost in his thoughts without tearing his eyes from you. Crosshair also stares at you.

"We came back from a mission a pair of hours ago, yeah" Hunter finally answers, relaxing slowly. "Thought we should enjoy a bit of freedom before getting back to work tomorrow".

His voice is deep as well; a bit more soft yet raspy.

"Ah" you answer, smiling guiltily. "Got it. Well, I'm not going to cut out your fun, no worries. Feel free to drink and chat as much as you like. Also... This is still a good fit. Beautiful armour, guys".

This time Tech blushes, Echo clears his throat in silence and Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair, all smile widely. Ah, yes, you forgot; armours are precious to all Mandalorians, including clones, and you could have very well call them...

"So you think we're hot? That it?" Crosshair drawls, eyes interested.

You laugh shrugging your shoulders. Yeah, well, you might be a little too tipsy. This is definitely your last drink if you want to keep things professional. Force knows if you weren't a Jedi and this weren't your men you'd have had already tried to take one of them home. Huh, it seems you're not as tired as you thought.

"Pretty" you correct him, if only to mock him a bit and play with him.

Crosshair's stare darkens and you can feel his arousal and want calling you through the Force.

You smile down playing with the rim of your glass distractedly, and feeling a sudden wave of shyness. Alcohol is a dangerous thing.

The thought makes you giggle a bit.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The night goes on, and you switch to a non-alcohol drink as promised to yourself. The conversation turns normal and more easy as the clock ticks by; all of them being very interesting, fun people to chat with. Crosshair and Echo are more reserved than the rest; different types of quiet observing and thoughtfullness. You suspect the second one isn't as comfortable with your presence as the rest –while you have no doubt that that wouldn't suppose a problem in battlefield, you know he's an excellent soldier–; while Crosshair... Crosshair's intentions are still quite clear.

He's bold, you have to say. Most troopers wouldn't want to risk being reported for misconduct even if they know most Jedis would just gently shut their intentions down if it were the case. Clones usually don't want to risk it; though it's evident that Crosshair doesn't think you will or plainly, doesn't care.

It doesn't bother you. He's attractive, and it feels good to be desired; you're a Jedi, but you're also just twenty-two, and you can't help it yourself. Still, you're nothing but polite to him, if only a bit of playfullness here and there. You're not going to go to bed with him, not before your oficial meeting; not while you can still resist.

You sigh with a smile.

"Well, boys, it has been a pleasure" you start, standing up and patting Wrecker's shoulder besides you. "But I think I'm gonna go and try to shut an eye. Have your fun without me, see you tomorrow!"

Tech eyes widen slightly, observing your retreating figure while Crosshair makes a move to follow you out of 79's.

Tech grabs his brother's shoulder and pulls him back down, ignoring Crosshair's almost snarl.

"She expressed her desire to go to sleep, Crosshair. Let her be" he opted to say, still not 100% sure of his theory before proving it with a quick search on his datapad.

Crosshair sighed and gulped down the remaining of his drink.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

No matter that the Batch had left 79's pretty late in the night, they were all rised and prepared to meet their new General at 0600 puntually. Their faces carried nag under their eyes and various degrees of tiredness; but they weren't being shipped anywhere, so there was no real problem with that. It was just a formal meeting so they could put a face to the name and greet each other; then they'll be left alone to enjoy the rest of their shore-leave day.

"I hope she's nice!" commented Wrecker while they waited up in a line in front of the Marauder.

Hunter hummed.

"I just hope she lets us do our thing" he muttered, clearly not very happy about the new placement.

None of them were particularly enthusiastic; they had never had a personal Jedi General before, and it would be a big change for everyone involved.

"I am confident she will" answered Tech, perhaps the only one holding positive thoughts about it. "I have thoroughly researched our General in the early hours of the morning and she has an impressive record on undercover missions and other side tasks. It seems she is usually sent on unusual requests as well, just like us. In adition, she is fairly easy going. I am positive we would all be able to adapt to each other well".

Right when Wrecker was going to ask with a deep frown etched on his face how did he know she was as "easy-going" as Tech affirmed, a female figure crossed the doors of the hangar walking towards them with wide confident steps.

Wrecker's, Echo's and Hunter's faces stared back in shock; while Tech nodded firmly as if he were explaining something to them, and Crosshair followed the young Jedi's movement full of intrigue and a masked surprise.

"Morning, troopers!" She greeted them, still a few meters away from them.

Her smile was radiant in the greyness of the hangar bay.

Crosshair leaned towards the smartest of his brothers, subtle.

"Punishment for fucking your Jedi General?" he asked in a distracted whispered, eyes never leaving the woman aproaching them.

Tech answered completely unbothered by his antics; posture firm.

"From an informal reprimand to proper decomissioning".

Crosshair smirked.

"I'll risk it".

He arched an eyebrow in amused defiance when she looked straight at him.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taraaa! Here it is love, hope you like it! It was a little fun cheeky thing to write :)

Not checked after finishing writing it cause I have exam tomorrow and still got a few finals left, but I hope I didn't make a lot of mistakes!

Only two more requests left before I jump onto another tbb Mermaid fic. Don't worry, yall, I will reopen requests the future, just let me survive my exams first ;)

Stay tunned!

Xx,

Sky.

Back to masterlist here:

#tbb crosshair #crosshair x oc #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #clone trooper crosshair #cross #star wars #clones #fanfic #tbb #clone wars #fics #hunter tbb #tech tbb #echo tbb #wrecker tbb #clone force 99 #cf99 #79's #one shot #oneshot #jedi reader #jedi general #female reader #crosshair x you #crosshair x y/n #flirting #drinks #fluff #teasing

[hog-farmer]

Build Your Bear *At Home*

Through the dense wilderness a sizable tanker truck carefully winds down a lone road. The crunch of gravel under its tires and its rumbling engine disturb the otherwise peaceful atmosphere. After a while the monotony of trees finally parts to reveal a large lakeside clearing. 

An expensive log cabin house sits at the end of the remote path. Standing one story tall with a wraparound porch that encompasses the main entrance and its waterfront side. The wood of its roof and siding has a reddish hue to it that contrasts against the overwhelming evergreens surrounding it.

The truck slowly rolls to a stop before the cabin, letting out a loud creek along with a puff of air as its engine rests. Moments later its driver door is thrown open as the man behind the wheel emerges. 

Clad in a pair of dark navy coveralls he steps down out of his seat onto the ground below. The only significant detail on his suit is the name embroidered across the left breast pocket, ‘Locke'. Small tufts of bright blonde hair peek out from all sides underneath his cap. A company logo is centered on its front, composed of the letters, ‘BYB'.

Free from his vehicle the man takes a moment to stretch out the stiffness from his muscles. After giving his cap a quick adjustment he begins sauntering towards the cabin. In his brief walk he admires the home's scenery till he comes to a stop at its front door. He gives it a brisk but firm knock before following up by pressing the doorbell off to the side.

After roughly a minute later the door finally opens to reveal a man on the other side. He appears to be middle-aged, most of the color has left his beard and has begun creeping up his sideburns towards his dark hair. The only other thing that might signify his age is his soft rounded middle, giving him a little exaggerated dadbod. Regardless of the extra padding, he's fairly well-built everywhere else. A firm puffy chest, bulky arms, and tanky thighs to round out his figure. He's dressed down in a pair of light gray sweatpants and plain white t-shirt.

“Good afternoon, sir,” the driver greets the man inside with a tip of his hat. “My name is Gordon and I'm here for an at home ‘build your bear’ visit.” 

“Nice to meet ya,” the other man replies with an outstretched hand that Gordon promptly takes. “Name’s Mike, come on in,” he continues with a nod of his head as he turns to head in. Gordon follows along, stepping through the threshold and beginning to survey the home around him.

The aesthetic of the inside definitely matches that of the outside. A warm and cozy cabin vibe throughout every decoration and piece of furniture. It all appears very well kept, not completely immaculate but lived-in.

“Hon? Who's at the door?” Gordon distantly hears being called from somewhere in the house.

“Delivery!~” Mike responds to the voice with a slight teasing tone. 

The muffled pattering of steps follows before another man appears around the corner. He looks older than Mike, short gray hair combed back with a few streaks of white. Laugh-lines frame his eyes while a bushy goatee sits between his bubbly cheeks. Similar to Mike he has a bulkier figure, though visibly softer with his age. His outfit is just as relaxed as Mike's too, with long plaid pants and a dark shirt that his fuzzy chest and belly peek out from.

“I thought that wasn't supposed to be here till next week?” the new man asks, confused but delightfully surprised.

“They called with an opening in their schedule, so I thought ‘eh, why not?’,” Mike recounted as he approached, swinging his arm around the other man's lower back.

“Well consider me excited,” the older man replied with a bright smile as he softly brought their noses together. “Now, care to introduce me?” He cheekily adds with a leading glance over to Gordon.

“Right right right,” Mike quickly mutters with an amused huff. “Gordon, this is my partner Arthur. Arthur, this is Gordon,” he continues as the other men exchange a handshake and their own greetings.

“So, who will I be working with today?” Gordon pointedly asks after a moment, quizzically looking between the two men. 

“Oh, that'd be our boy, Ricky” Mike clarifies while smiling back at Arthur. “We had our five year anniversary with him a few days ago, so this is gonna be his gift.”

“Ah, Alrighty then. Why don’t you show me where I’ll be working, then I can go get my gear and get things started,” Gordon cheerfully suggests.

“Sounds great, let me show you to his room,” Mike agrees with a wave for Gordon to follow after him.

“You boys handle that, I’m gonna head back and finish prepping lunch,” Arthur waves them off as he departs back to the room he came from.

The two men round the corner and make their way down a spacious hallway. Photos and memorabilia are spread throughout its walls. As his eyes drift past them one photo in particular catches Gordon's attention.

It's of Mike and Arthur with a third young man between them that Gordon assumes is the aforementioned Ricky. He looks to be in his early twenties with short, somewhat curly auburn hair and light stubble across face. The three of them smile brightly as they're out at some sort of pride event. They're all shirtless with leather harnesses over their bare chests. Ricky has his arms draped over the older men's shoulders while their hands proudly rest on the budding bear's small starter-belly.

Gordon is brought out of his fixation when he hears soft knocking. At the far right end of the hall Mike stands in front of a bedroom door. His hand is still raised from knocking while the other rests patiently on its handle.

“Ricky~ Baby? You up?” Mike gently calls out. When no response comes through he proceeds to quietly open the door and enter. Gordon hurriedly catches up with him, though the sight past the threshold makes his eyebrows rise in slight surprise.

The young man Gordon caught a glimpse of moments before is now in front of him, nearly taking up the entire width of a queen-sized bed with the sheer size of himself. His legs lay spread out, completely encased in cellulite, especially around his inner thighs. Half of a thin blanket lays over the lower portion of his thighs, the other half is wedged under his expansive stomach. It reaches nearly as far as his hips do, coming short just a few inches. Past his gut are a set of heavy moobs. His reclined position causes them to sag to his sides, emphasizing his side rolls as they spread out as far as the length of his puffy upper arms. As he sleeps his head lays back against a pile of pillows that's propping him up. Other than much rounder cheeks, slightly unkempt hair, and another chin his features are all the same from the photo out in the hall. 

“Hey Ricky~ C’mon bud, wake up,” Mike softly coaxes as he approaches and gives the incredibly fat man’s shoulder a little shake. This seems to be enough to rouse him as he takes in a deep breath, lets out a big yawn and blinks his eyes. He looks around a little disoriented till he notices Mike at his side.

“Mornin’ Daddy~” Ricky yawns as he brings one of his hands up to wipe the sleep from his eye.

“It’s afternoon Baby,” Mike corrects with a chuckle as he combs his fingers through the young man’s hair.

“Oh right,” Ricky mumbles as he recounts having breakfast a couple hours earlier. 

“Guess what buddy? Daddy and Papa got a present for you,” Mike says as he steps back towards the doorway and gestures to Gordon. With that and a confused look from Ricky, Gordon decides to enter and introduce himself.

“Hi there, I’m Gordon. I’m here for an at home ‘build your bear’ visit,” Gordon says as he comes forward to shake Ricky’s hand.

“Hey,” Ricky greets as he reciprocates the gesture. After a momentary pause his stomach lets out a resonating rumble. “Daddy, I'm hungry. Where's lunch?”

“Papa will be here with it in a bit bud, don't worry,” Mike comforts.

“Actually, it might be a bit better if he waits to eat,” Gordon interjects. “It’ll put less pressure on his stomach and let the process act faster.”

“What? But I'm hungry now,” Ricky complains with a distressed whine building in his throat. His pleading eyes stare up at Mike for help.

“You can wait a little bit, bud,” Mike consoles. Not happy with that answer Ricky proceeds to turn away and pout. After a couple minutes of trying to comfort the large young man Mike eventually gives up with a sigh. “Ok, what'll it take to make you agree and wait?”

This finally gets Ricky's attention. He stops his pouting and instead mulls over what he wants in exchange. As he thinks his eyes land on Gordon which causes him to smirk devilishly as he comes up with an idea. He waves for Mike to come closer so he can cup his hand against his ear and whisper his idea to the middle-aged man.

“You want us to do what?” Mike recoils in surprise when Ricky finishes.

“That's what I want,” Ricky finalizes by crossing his arms over his chest as best he can. “Please Daddy?~” he follows with a very pleading expression. 

The older man contemplates for a second before he relents and agrees to Ricky's demands. Having won, the young man giddily wiggles in place, causing his fat to ripple across his body. Mike tousles the young man's hair before proceeding to exit the room with Gordon on his tail.

“So… what did he ask for?” Gordon breaks the silence once they're halfway down the hall.

“He… said he’d wait if he got to watch Arthur and I fatten up afterwards,” Mike shares, amused and a little embarrassed.

“Oh,” is all Gordon can muster, surprised himself, but also intrigued.

“Yeah, honestly it’s not surprising. It’s how we met him in the first place,” Mike comments.

“Really? Then how’d he end up being the spoiled and pampered one?” Gordon prods further.

“Well, we first started chatting with him online. He was some hotheaded cub that was all about being on top and dominating. So we invited him over for some fun and… he ended up being complete putty in our hands,” Mike recounts with a fond expression. “Though that doesn’t stop him from being a total brat when he wants to be.”

“Yeah that makes sense,” Gordon acknowledges with a chuckle.

“So, can ya do it?” Mike questions, referencing Ricky’s demand.

“Adding you two to the mix? Oh yeah, I’m happy to oblige,” Gordon confirms. “I’ll go get my supplies and get things ready for all of ya.”

“Sounds great,” Mike agrees.

From there the two men part in separate directions. Mike heads for the room they’d last seen Arthur enter while Gordon exits through the front door. The blond man makes his way back to his truck and climbs inside. Rummaging through the equipment haphazardly deposited behind his seat Gordon manages to find what he needs. An insanely-long industrial hose, three phallic-shaped nozzles, a bottle of lube, and the remote for the tanker’s pump system.

With his supplies in hand Gordon takes them around to the tanker’s side. Taking one end of the hose he positions it onto the tanker’s release port before locking it in place. With that secured Gordon checks over the tank’s pressure valves and vents to make sure they’re all working properly. Confident that everything is ready he takes the other end of the hose and begins trailing it towards the cabin. Through the entrance, pass the main living area and down the hall till Gordon’s outside Ricky’s room again.

“Just one treat Papa?” Gordon hears Ricky ask as the room’s interior comes into view. Ricky, unsurprisingly, is still firmly planted on his bed, though now the older men flank him on both sides.

“No bud, you promised you’d wait,” Arthur halfheartedly scolds before throwing in a cheeky non-threat. “Or do you not want Daddy and Papa to get fattened up for ya?” 

“You guys ready?” Gordon interrupts as he reenters the room and fixes a nozzle to the end of the hose.

“Yup all set,” Mike replies.

“Okay, now, normally this is the part where I tell the subject to strip, but…” Gordon trails off as he gestures at Ricky’s blatantly naked form. This earns a blush from the young man and a few chuckles from the older ones. “So let's get him propped up, lubed, and ready.”

“Oh you don’t have to worry about lube with this one. Trust me, he’s loose enough,” Arthur embarrassingly comments.

“Papa!” Ricky cries as the red of his face flushes an even deeper shade.

“Okay okay, let’s get going” Mike deescalates as he starts removing the pillow propping up Ricky. Arthur joins his efforts by taking the young man’s hand and helping him into a more upright position. While they’re busy with that Gordon comes around with his supplies.

Eventually they get everything ready. The space behind is clear and Ricky is sitting up as best he can, though he’s leaning over his belly a bit. His legs are awkwardly splayed out to the side with his feet just hanging over the edge of the bed. This leaves the big mounds of his ass completely exposed.

“Ready Ricky?” Gordon asks as he leans into the space behind the young man. 

With a firm nod from him Gordon instructs the other two men to start. From both sides they each reach toward the crevice of Ricky’s ass. Once they have a good grip they pull to pry his massive cheeks apart. They make a good effort of it but it's not quite enough to reveal the young man’s hole, so Gordon decides to probe around for it. 

It’s easy enough to slip a couple of fingers into the fleshy divide with how damp it is with sweat. Gordon’s hand is enveloped up to his knuckles before he finally feels where the two mounds meet. He doesn’t feel Ricky’s hole yet so he trails his fingers downward till he does. As soon as his digits brush up against the sensitive ring Gordon feels Ricky’s body give an anticipative shiver. Tentatively, Gordon probes the muscle further, finding it to already be fairly loose like Arthur commented earlier.

Using his thumb and index finger Gordon exposes Ricky’s hole as best he can with one hand. With that ready he takes the hose and brings its slicked nozzle towards the exposed muscle. It’s met with little resistance, only needing a few wiggles to ease the inner muscles and guide it deeper. Ricky lets out a relieved sigh as he feels the invading equipment finally brush past his prostate.

“Okay, that should be deep enough,” Gordon decides once roughly a foot of the phallic-shaped nozzle is planted past the young man’s rim. The other men relax their hold on Ricky’s boulder-like ass, letting the gelatinous flesh envelop the hose further. As the smaller men step back they convene at the front end of Ricky’s bed. Gordon unclasps the tanker’s remote from one of his suits pockets and hands it off to Mike and Arthur. The blond man gives them a short rundown of its control, mainly pointing out the start switch and volume knob.

“You ready for this baby?” Mike tenderly asks the young man as he and Arthur lean in close to his face.

“Yeah, make me huge,” Ricky replies as he gives his belly a quick pat. With that the two men dive in and plant a kiss on each of Ricky’s chubby cheeks.

They step back once more and finally turn on the tanker’s pump, setting the volume flow to about halfway. Nothing happens for roughly a minute till they see the hose begin to twitch along the floor. It steadily pulses as the shadow of the liquid inside inches further up the tube. Soon enough the fluid begins to enter Ricky, snaking its way through his guts before coming to settle in his stomach.

After a minute Ricky begins to feel a cycle of pain and relief as the pressure in his stomach grows and eases. Eventually it all blurs into the background as a general uncomfortableness when he notices his belly subtly creeping further outward. 

“At his size a couple of pounds is like a drop in an ocean, so his growth will be more of a subtle climb than anything drastic,” Gordon explains while everyone is fixated on Ricky’s slow-growing form.

Watching his body slowly expand like dough Ricky idly strokes his hands across his stomach. His flesh gets softer and larger with each pulse in his stomach. Mindlessly, the young man finds himself breathing in sync with the pumping. His hands drift to his chest, squeezing and cupping his nipples to try and completely cover them. In his grasp he feels them grow, their weight increasing around his digits till they’re unmanageable and he lets them flop back down.

After a couple of minutes Ricky’s stomach has swelled large enough to nearly reach the end of his bed. It’s already begun to drool over its sides. Behind him his ass has gone from large mounds to absolute mountains. They’ve reached his headboard at the other end of his bed and are steadily creeping higher up. His legs were useless before, but now they’re far beyond that. They’ve blown past the size of keg barrels, preventing the hope of them ever being able to bend again. Even his feet are turning puffy with fat as the adipose of his ankles threatens to swallow them up. 

His hands and arms are becoming just as encumbered. The excessive fat around his shoulders and elbows have just about locked his limbs in place, forcing them to lay uselessly atop his side rolls. His fingers are almost at their limit to be able to bend with how swollen they’ve become. Around his face another chin has formed under his second one and his bubbly cheeks have started encroaching closer together. They force his mouth into a permanent pout and cause his eyes to squint. 

*Creeeeek* *CRACK*

The bed frame lets out a high pitched whine before quickly giving out. Its legs completely snap under Ricky’s climbing weight, dropping the mattress and boxspring clean to the ground. The one foot drop sends a massive ripple through Ricky’s malleable form. Every fold, roll, and mound of fat doesn’t settle its jiggling for half a minute. It’s at this point that Ricky feels the pressure in his stomach slowly fade away, and the pleasurable growth alongside it.

“Nooo… why’d it stop,” the now immobile man struggles to whine through his puffy cheeks.

“Sorry bud, gonna have to stop ya there,” Arthur consoles as he comes up and places a comforting hand on one of Ricky’s rolls of back fat.

“Besides, don’t you wanna fill that belly with something else?” Mike interjects. This reminds Ricky of the food waiting for him, causing the blobby young man to wiggle his fat as best he can in excitement.

“Okay, I’ll go get his lunch,” Arthur volunteers. “While I do that, why don’t you get yourself ready?” He adds with a cheeky wink as he walks past Mike, giving the man a brief peck on the cheek as he does so.

With his partner now out of the room Mike turns to Gordon, “Welp, you heard the man, let’s get things started.”

“Alrighty, while I get Ricky here unhooked you strip and get comfortable,” Gordon instructs as he steps back around to Ricky’s rear. 

The titanic cheeks have enveloped much more of the hose in their growth, smothering the equipment underneath it. Gordon grabs the hose with one hand and uses his fingers to crawl along its length and reach a point of it further trapped within the doughy flesh. He gets as deep as he can till his arm is up to his shoulder in ass fat. From there Gordon takes a firm grip of the hose and begins to slowly tug backwards. He hears Ricky groan above him as it drags across his insides once again. When the giant man lets out a sigh of relief Gordon guesses the end of the long nozzle finally exited past his rim. He still gently extracts the rest of it till it's completely free from between Ricky’s gigantic cheeks.

While Gordon was busy doing that Mike began removing his clothes. Tossing his t-shirt to a random corner of the room and shamelessly shucking off his sweats and underwear in one swoop. He kicks them to the side and as he waits for Gordon to finish up Arthur returns to the room with a cart of food in tow.

The older man parks the cart right next to the bed and grabs one of the dishes on top of it. He’s about to hand it off to Ricky when he takes a second to realize the young man’s not really able to feed himself anymore. “Well, guess it’ll be hand feedings from here on out, huh boy?” Arthur comments as he leans over the bed and brings himself and the plate close to Ricky’s face. The enormous man doesn’t vocally reply, instead expectantly opening his mouth for the food in hand. Arthur rolls his eyes at Ricky with a fond smile as he feeds the young the first bite of his meal.

“Okay, you all set?” Gordon asks, regaining Mike's attention from the other men in the room. He stands ready as he spreads a generous dose of lube over a new nozzle that's been attached to the hose.

“Yup,” Mike responds before calling over to Ricky. “You ready to see Daddy get stuffed up?” Ricky manages to pull his attention away from the food being fed to him. His eyes now fixate on Mike, though he still opens his mouth and accepts every spoonful Arthur brings to his lips. 

With an amused chuckle Mike gives Gordon the signal to go ahead. Nodding, the blond comes down to one knee behind Mike. Using one hand to part the ample cheeks in front of him Gordon uses the other to tentatively press the nozzle of the hose against the ring of muscle. Gordon hears the man let out a sigh as he relaxes his muscles to let the head of it begin to invade him. Inch after inch slowly slips in with little resistance till roughly a foot of it is firmly planted inside. When Gordon’s done inserting the hose Mike lets out a shaky breath and leans forward with his hands on one of Ricky’s bed posts for support.

“You good?” Gordon gives one last check, wiggling the tank’s remote in his hands to imply the next step. With a nod from the other man Gordon activates the controls and sets the pump into motion.

The liquid hits Mike a lot sooner than he expected, now realizing most of the hose didn’t have to be filled like when they waited for Ricky. He feels the pressure of it start deep before steadily rising up into his stomach. Reaching full capacity causes the upper portion of his belly to bulge a little. After a second the pressure subsides and just before Mike can let out a relieved sigh it rises again. As Mike becomes accustomed to the cycling pressure he looks down to watch his expanding body.

The external bump of his stomach is quickly hidden under the new layers of fat on his swelling belly. It gradually loses its firm round shape, becoming soft and doughy with a divot forming that splits the bottom of it. His chest slowly loses what little definition it had, turning into full moobs that sit heavily over his stomach.

Mike’s upper arms and thighs take on the new fat much faster than the latter portions of his limbs, giving them a slightly unbalanced look. Every so often he has to adjust them, widening his stance and the angle he holds out his arms. Under his beard his neck starts to bulge out into a chunky ring, straining the movement of his head as he tires looking behind himself.

A couple sets of rolls have developed along his hairy back, respectively connecting around to his belly and chest. The largest spectacle behind him though was his ass. Like his thighs much more of his weight has settled into his ass, giving Mike a very over exaggerated pear shape.

“Okay, I think that’s good,” Mike calls over to Gordon. The blond man gives him a thumbs up and proceeds to turn off the pump. After a few seconds Mike feels the pressure finally subside, allowing him to regain his composure and right himself. The new weight throws him off for a moment but he quickly adjusts and becomes accustomed to it. 

“Now don’t you look handsome,” Arthur compliments as he approaches Mike. His hands roam over all the newly softened flesh of his partner. Feeling up his plump arms and thighs, lifting his full chest and heavy belly. Finally Arthur brings their lips together for a passionate kiss as his hands settle over Mike’s overly doughy rear. Fondling, jiggling, and kneading the malleable mounds to his heart’s content.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough ya horndog,” Mike chuckles as he breaks their kiss and playfully bats Arthur’s hands away. He tries reaching around himself to withdraw the hose, but he can’t quite reach it. His back rolls won’t let him turn like he used to, so the farthest he can grab of his sizable rear is the top cleft of his ass cheeks. “Help me with this thing will ya?” he asks with a nod behind himself.

“Sure thing hon,” Arthur replies with one last peck to the other man’s cheek. 

He steps around Mike and reaches for the hose protruding from his ass but pauses as he grabs it. A devious idea just popped into his head, and he immediately follows through with it. He holds Mike’s hip for leverage and slowly starts removing the invading object. Though when it’s roughly halfway out he promptly reverses its direction. This catches Mike by surprise, making the man let out a soft lewd moan at the sensation. Before he has a chance to respond Arthur proceeds further by subtly shaking the hose, causing its nozzle to wiggle around inside of Mike. The larger man’s legs turn weak from the teasing abuse of his prostate, forcing him to lean against Ricky’s bed again for support. After roughly a minute of this Arthur stops toying with Mike and completely removes the hose.

“Fuckin’... bastard…” Mike laughs through labored breaths. He quickly collects himself again and heads to the half emptied cart beside Ricky to finish off his meal. Though as he walks over he keeps his gaze locked on Arthur, plotting ways of getting even with him. 

“Alrighty, my turn,” Arthur declares over to Gordon as he lifts his shirt up over his head. Stripping further, he pulls the waistband of his pants down past his hips and ass, letting them drop the rest of the way on their own. He steps away from the discarded piece of clothing and bends over against the end of Ricky’s bed. His head lays in his arms while his pudgy belly and chest freely hang below him. With spread legs and his plump rump on full display he gives his ample rear a provocative shake, wiggling it back and forth.

“Shameless as ever,” Mike chuckles under his breath, amused with Arthur's little display. Arthur responds with his own chuckle before turning his head back to Gordon and telling him to go ahead.

Hose ready in hand, Gordon approaches and squats down by Arthur’s ass. Once more parting a sizable pair of cheeks for the pink ring hidden beneath. He gently probes the nozzle against it, easing the head of it to slip through. To Gordon’s surprise though once the tip of it has entered the surrounding muscles begin to coax the equipment deeper inside all on their own. Transfixed, the blond watches as inch after inch of the hose is slowly consumed by the insatiable hole. When it's down to the end of the nozzle Gordon gives the hose a cheeky little tug to let the man know to stop. With the hose secured Gordon takes the remote and sets the pump into motion.

“Ooo baby,” Arthur shivers as he lolls his head to the side, feeling the vaguely warm fluid begin to flood him. The sensation slowly climbs upwards till it hits its limit with his stomach at full capacity. Unfazed by the pressure inside himself Arthur lets out a relaxed sigh as the subtleties of growth begin to show.

Like rising dough every inch of Arthur slowly expands, though his position pools most of it downward. His billowing belly hangs lower and lower from his abdomen with each pulse of fattening fluid that enters him. His upper arms mimic its growth with gravity pulling them down as their volume increases. A good portion of the growth deposits itself into his soft chest. Making Arthur a little more top-heavy as they become exceedingly round and voluptuous.

Surprisingly, his plump ass and hips retain most of their shape. Expanding outwards rather than sagging down, though his legs probably assist that a lot. They’ve become massive pillars of support to hold up those monolithic spheres. Down below them his feet have swollen to develop cankles and the flesh of his calves threaten to overlap them.

His back looks like a developing landscape with all the ridges and rolls of fat that’ve grown along it. The hair across his body has started to become a little more sparse with his expanding flesh. His face begins to plump up too, giving him very chubby cheeks and another chin to frame his goatee.

When his breathing starts to turn labored and his legs begin to wobble from effort is when Arthur finally taps out. “Alright, that’s all I can take,” he concedes with a wave over his shoulder to Gordon. The other man promptly follows through with the request, using the remote to turn off the pump. Gordon kneels back down beside Arthur, waiting to see the shadow of the liquid recede down the hose before he begins to remove it. With a couple teasing wiggles the full length of the instrument is quickly extracted.

Now freed, Arthur begins to feel the weight of his newly enlarged body. With some effort he props his body up with his chunky arms. His tits really catch his attention with how prominently they obscure the view of his belly below them. A soft ‘ooo’ breaks his staring though, when Arthur looks up to see Ricky just as transfixed on his chest as he just was.

“See somethin’ ya like bud?” the older man coyly asks, using his hands up to lift and emphasize his breasts. Ricky gives a mindless nod in return with his encumbered hands twitching in a useless attempt to reach out and grab them. Amused, Arthur decides to take pity on him, lifting himself onto the bed right up to the young man. Now face to face with Arthur’s plump rack Ricky lets out a whine for the remaining distance to be closed.

“Please Papa~,” Ricky whines with a pleading glance up to the older man. Arthur laughs and rolls his eyes at the display, but gives into the plea anyway. 

Leaning forward into Ricky’s massive bulk Arthur envelopes Ricky’s head in his chest. The young man eagerly sniggles in, motorboating the two heavy sacks till his tongue comes out to taste the doughy flesh. After a minute, Arthur adjusts his chest so one of his nipples is right in front of Ricky’s mouth, to which the bed-bound man immediately latches onto. His lips work the sensitive skin around it while his tongue goes wild on its tip. 

Eventually Ricky calms down, content to gently suckle the pair of tits at his own leisure. Arthur relaxes into the moment as well. Tenderly combing his fingers through the young man’s hair and letting out the occasional soft moan as his nipples are played with.

While those two are occupied Mike makes his way around to Gordon who’s gathering up his equipment. “Here, let me help walk ya out,” Mike volunteers as he picks up a portion of the hose that’s at the room’s threshold. The pair work to gather its length through the house till they come to a stop at the front door.

“Well, I sure hope you guys enjoyed your delivery today,” Gordon remarks with a hint of sarcasm. 

“Oh we definitely did,” Mike chuckles. “I’m sure we’ll be shut-ins for the next week or two ‘enjoying’ or delivery,” he adds with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Good to hear. Also, I might recommend browsing our company’s clothing options,” Gordon cheekily responds with an obvious glance down to Mike’s enlarged figure.

“Yeah that might be a good idea,” Mike concedes, thinking how none of their wardrobes will remotely fit them anymore.

“Anyways, thank you for choosing ‘Build Your Bear’ and have a great rest of your day,” Gordon bids farewell with a tip of his cap as he leaves out the front door.

---

Well it's been roughly a year since my first 'Build Your Bear' story, so I thought it'd be right to follow through with the 'at home' services I eluded to back them. It was fun to revisit this world with a new batch of characters, and I'll definitely be back to it again with some new *holiday themed* ideas.

I'm really surprised how fast I wrote this story out, only took roughly a month and a half. Guess I had a good rhythm for it. Though there was a bit of a struggle in the beginning for solidifying a plot. I knew I wanted these characters, it was just deciding who I wanted to be fattened, how much, and their dynamic between each other. Like I thought of the inverse with three bear employees working together to really fatten up one guy. Another idea was the bears giving themselves over to a benefactor to live out a very pampered blobby life.

Maybe I could explore some of those avenues at a later point, but for now I'm happy with how this one turned out. Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope to post again sooner rather than later.

#ssbhm #weight gain #xwg #gay fat #immobile fat #fat #immobile #male wg #gay #bhm #build your bear #build your bear at home #wg #wg story #story

[spinchip]

NEVER THE DARK

Chapter 16

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15

warnings: head injury

HOW DOES IT END THIS WAY? ONE BITE INVITES ANOTHER.

Cyrus only black outs for a moment, maybe a few heartbeats- but when consciousness returns he wishes he’d stayed blissfully unaware of the pain lancing through his brain. The world loses its finer details and all he can focus on is the blood dripping down his temple and the way his brain feels too big for his head. He’s grateful for the blindfold, actually. He imagines the brightness of even the gentlest of lights would feed into the agony he’s feeling. He wills himself not to throw up.

His chair is straightened and the world spins and turns on its axis which makes the aforementioned not throwing up a whole lot harder. A warm hand probes at the wound on his head and finally, gratefully, he forces himself to pass out. For real this time.

The next time he wakes up, he’s not blindfolded anymore.

The first thing he registers is the floor to ceiling windows looking out on Ninjago city. It’s a great view, in the heart of the city and tall enough to look over almost every building surrounding it. Except Borg tower, which rises above the skyline in beautiful silhouette against the afternoon sun.

The next thing he notices is the man sitting in the lavish leather chair overlooking the cityscape before them. His captor. His head still hurts, will probably ache for days after this (if he survives,) and that does nothing to facilitate using his brain to figure out who exactly this man is. There’s a fancy silk handkerchief crumpled and covered in blood sitting on the dark oak desk he’s sitting at, and Cyrus can see ugly yellow bruising forming around his nose and eyes. It fills him with a viscous satisfaction even as his head throbs in memory of that headbutt. Worth it.

Cyrus wracked his brain- this office screams old money. He peeks around the room, trying to find something that might tip him off to who exactly had kidnapped him from his home and why. The room is luxury in overload, expensive not for quality but for status with overpriced furniture and art filling the room. The desk is specially carved solid wood, the plush rugs covering the floor thick and hand woven, modern lavish brown leather couches paired with a glass coffee table sitting in the middle of the room. The coffee table is stacked with Forbes magazines and history books in a flashy, ingenuine way. The bookshelves are decorated in a similar performative style. He’s trying to appear more worldly and elite and maybe it worked on others, but to Cyrus it screamed of insecurity- the room was so overtly ostentatious it became nothing but a superficial impersonation of sophistication.

All of that in conjunction with the designer pinstripe suit, the expensive drinks, the luxury watch purposefully shown off with a raised sleeve- all of it painting a picture of a man in the same tax bracket as Cyrus himself. His most distinctive trait is his long, curly red hair... which led Cyrus nowhere. Surely he’d have met this man before- as a charity banquet, a fancy gala, a high society party? He certainly knew Cyrus, and had a grudge against him at that.

Cyrus knew he wasn’t the kindest man in his youth… he could admit he was a bit of a self centered prick, but not so much that anyone would want him dead.

The few things that seem genuine in this soulless, shallow space is the bar cart filled with fancy liquors and two portraits along the back wall.

“My father and I.” That low, smooth voice makes Cyrus jump. The man at the front of the room has spun the chair around to face him, observing Cyrus’s gaze on the paintings behind him. He’s referencing the first of the pair, an older man with salt and peppered rusty red hair and a severe looking face, with a heavyset brow and dark eyes. There’s a boy in the picture with him, with slicked red hair and an equally sour expression. Even his father doesn’t ping anything on Cyrus’s radar. He tries to focus his head and pull up any possible memory he might have of this man- he can almost see him in his mind's eye, perfectly manicured nails and sleek hair and opulent jewelry introducing himself at a charity event-

Blue eyes that swam with obsession Cyrus mistook for intrigue.

“Who are you?” He asks, the man's perfectly white teeth reminding him of a shark's maw tasting the water for blood.

The facade of serenity melted off his face, irritation bleeding to fury at the question. Appalled and annoyed and so, so angry that Cyrus even had to ask. As if he should have known of the animosity between them despite cordial greetings and passing smiles in those nebulous memories when they did run into each other, “Do you know how old this company is?” He asks Cyrus sharply, who barely refrains from saying I don't even know what the hell we're talking about, “It’s existed for far longer than you were even a thought in your father's head. The Voss brand was a powerhouse before time had a name. It was respected- revered. We were above you all.”

Voss. Cyrus grabs that with both hands, desperate for any tidbit of information. He searches his mind-

Voss Enterprises. Cyrus remembers that name, back when he’d first brought Borg Tech to Ninjago City. His own company had ballooned out so quickly that any possible competitor was choked out before Cyrus really had to worry about them- Voss Enterprises being one of them. He’d surpassed them and stayed ahead. Their CEO was… Simon Voss- no, that was their old CEO. His son had taken it over. What was his name?

He nods to the other painting. It’s older, framed behind glass to protect it. It's on yellowed parchment and it’s not a full painting, mostly sketch lines with the occasional pop of color to contour or define certain areas. It shows an older woman with deep red hair pulled back with fancy pins and braids, “That is my grandmother, several times great. She built this company with her bare hands- after she lost her whole family. Akane Voss. Each generation after her grew our enterprise larger and larger. We were number one, always ahead of the competition.”

Those acidic blue eyes pin Cyrus with a jealous gaze, “Until you.” He grins, and it’s all teeth, “Borg. your family had money, sure, but you weren’t even a blip on our radar. You were nothing. I was everything- and then you came and took it all.” his voice trembled with rage and he shoots to his feet.

He waves his hand and a rudimentary android unfolds from a box near the door with an inquisitive beep, “Help our guest keep up.” He says shortly, striding towards the door. The bot trundles over on skinny legs and begins to push Cyrus’s wheelchair behind Voss.

“Is that what this is about? Jealousy?” Cyrus asks, disbelieving as he’s bundled onto an elevator.

“And then,” Voss ignores Cyrus with a chuckle and drags a hand down his face- he’s wearing a blue gauntlet. He’s wearing the blue gauntlet. Cyrus feels himself go pale. “Then you burned it all down. You and your ego led the Overlord home to roost and the city crumbled and I thought- surely, this is the end of Cyrus Borg. Your reputation would be tattered, your company would go belly up, and Voss Enterprise would swoop in where we rightfully belong to fill the gap.” He hisses as they ascend only one floor up to the roof.

He steps out onto the tarmac and whips around. His hair blows in the wind and when the sunlight catches his eyes, the blue seems to glow, “But you didn’t die. You stuck around like a parasite and Ninjago City welcomed you right back in. This isn’t about jealousy, Cyrus Borg. This is about what I deserve! This is about how you came along in all your arrogance and hubris and stole what was mine!” He storms up to Cyrus and tangles his hand in Cyrus's hair, wrenching his head back so he can lean in close. He pulls back punishingly hard, still sore about his bloody nose, “I have been in your shadow for far too long, Cyrus Borg." He mutters, the words cloying in the small space between them, "This city has fallen into sickness, infested with your technology and pushing everyone else out.”

Cyrus blinks wide eyed at Voss and tries to shake his head, incredulous, “What are you talking about? Borg Industries is not a monopoly! I pulled back- I understood my mistake after the destruction of the city, I learned my lesson. This is madness!”

Voss releases Cyrus’s hair and stands back to his full height, “We weren’t thorough enough the first time around, in the aftermath of the digital overlord. We didn’t cut you out at the root. There was too much Borg tech influence- so you grew back like a tumor and kept me from my place above it all.”

He turns around to face the city, the wind carrying his voice back to Cyrus crystal clear, “If I can’t have Ninjago City, no one can.” And Cyrus almost wants to laugh at the sheer banality of it all if it weren't so terrifying. He raises the the gauntlet he’s wearing and holds it out, pointed towards Ninjago city, “I’m going to raze it all to the ground- and in the ashes, after every ounce of Borg Tech is destroyed and the wound is finally clean, Voss Enterprise will swoop in and rebuild until you are nothing but a bad memory.”

“My name is Broden Voss.” He says calmly, turning to face Cyrus with his hand still outstretched towards the city. He smiles and there's a wild, triumphant edge to it, “Remember that Name, Cyrus Borg. It will go down in the history books as your successor... though I suppose that won't matter to you, since you won't survive to see it. Say goodbye to your empire. it's time for you to finally fall.”

Behind him, all across Ninjago city, hundreds of portals open.

#ninjago #spinchip fic #cyrus borg #ninjago oc broden voss #ninjago never the dark #ninjago never the dark au

[wolven91]

White Lies

Esero was awash in a sea of joy, mirth, comfort, and warmth.

It was almost dizzying being surrounded by such joy. Laughter erupted across the canteen as someone bellowed a heckle at the ursidain telling a story of their awkward teen years. It was in good nature and caused another uproar of laughter as the ursidain in question doubled over in response, gripping his knees as his chest spasmed and he gulped in oxygen between uncontrolled barks of his own mirth.

The whole room was laughing together, it was intoxicating.

As an esquinine, Esero was a natural telepath, able to sense and feel the surface emotions of those in proximity as easily as one would read a billboard they walked past. Few knew the true power of an esquinine's mental abilities, which was substantially more than 'just' reading emotions. The esquinine race had struck a deal with the Galactic Community after a bloody war to spread disinformation over three hundred years ago to downplay the esquinine powers to the wider galaxy for the betterment of everyone.

After all, would the crew she surrounded herself with be so relaxed if they thought she could easily force her way into their minds?

No. Without doubt, the answer would be no.

For the sake of peace and preventing bloodshed, the esquinine people were 'empaths' and empaths alone to the wider galaxy. A white lie for the betterment and comfort of all.

The human who was sat across from her, who was red in the face from laughing so hard was the reason Esero was here. She was a guardian, a protector of the smaller, new race.

So far; an easy job.

The esquinine knew if the human knew of her true power, the trust she had slowly built up would shatter. It had taken roughly six months for the sour yellow hint of suspicion in the human's mind to be replaced with the soothing blues and light greens of trust within the human's mind. That was something Esero was willing to protect with her entire being.

It was because of this passive ability, that Esero was unable to prevent feeling others' emotions, that she felt the oily, purple, bubbling sensation of pure hatred and malice felt by a whole group of unseen forces lance into the room, a split second before the canteen exploded.

Esero had already begun launching herself at the human, across the table much to their initial shock, just as a spike, large enough to fill the room; punched through the ceiling in an explosion of fire, sparks and screaming.

They were being boarded.

Before the human and esquinine could get to their feet, the boarding spike disgorged a screaming rabble of a mixture of different races. The pair of them lay low as weapons fire began lancing through the air, cutting down any that stood in their way. The ship shuddered again and again as similar boarding spikes battered the besieged craft.

Esero touched a finger to the side of her head and focused on a felinoid who had just used a curved blade to slice the throat of one of the crew.

Her mind tore through the wet paper membrane of the felinoid's defences, completely unprepared for the intrusion. Her mental control was instant, gripping a hold of the grey matter inside and demanding the knowledge she sought. What was their goal? What were their instructions?!

To an outside observer, the felinoid froze and went tense, fear gripping its body until it voided their bowels, tears streamed from their eyes as the monstrously large mental assault crushed any hope of resistance. The question the all-encompassing force demanded was instantly answered:

'Take the food, the others will take what's near them. Don't hang around, the ship won't be around for long. Kill anyone.'

The esquinine forced the concept of 'sleep' into every corner of the felinoid's mind at once and the creature tumbled forward, in a collapsed heap amongst the dead of the canteen. It was a total invasion with no intention of leaving the ship or its crew alive.

"Up! We need to get to the pods!" Esero ordered to the human who didn't need mentally nudging to get them moving. Fear gripped them which Esero had no judgment for; she was scared too. But unlike the human, who had been denied a weapon, she was not helpless.

The pair of them slipped from the canteen during the panic. Most of the crew were dazed and already being picked off. The esquinine regretted she could do little, but she was not all powerful and spreading herself too thin would render both herself and her ward vulnerable. All they had to do was get down the corridor and turn left. At the end of the second hallway, was the bank of escape pods.

As the pair ran, a trio unknown creatures appeared from around the bend, armed to the teeth and pointing at her ward with ecstatic grins. A canid, and taurian and an ursidain, bringing up the rear. They obviously hadn't expected the human on board, but neither had they expected the mental domination of their minds either.

Esero thrust out a hand at the first, a canid with red, dripping claws, his defences were non-existent. A creature without discipline, this one must have given in to any desire he ever had. As such the force in which she reached into his mind would have left him a simple drooling mess if he lived, but she had no intention of allowing him breathe a moment longer. The esquinine twirled her hand at the wrist, as she and the human continued to march forward, the human's hand locked within her own grip. She brought her arm out to the side, fingers splayed and the canid copied perfectly, slashing deep gouges into the taurian to his side. The taurian wailed and flinched, looking round betrayed, snarling.

Esero used the same hand to reach up to her neck and roughly dragged her fingers across her soft flesh there. The canid copied and tore deep grooves into his own throat, spraying the corridor before the hold on him was gone and he fell forwards. The two other raiders looked shocked and confused, taking a step back at the display, not trying to reach out for their former crew mate. By the time the taurian's worried face glanced back the esquinine's way, her terrible gaze was already on the pirate, her eye glowing blue and furious.

In the taurian's hands was a piece of mining equipment. Placed against solid rock, it would force an explosion into the material, breaking it apart for processing. Fired like a gun, it would send shards of near molten metal fragments out in a devastating cone of violence, it's recoil was too much for any but the strongest to wield. The taurian began to raise the gun up but suddenly changed her aim. With one hand now, pointed the gun to the side and up at the third and final marauder, the ursidain.

The ursidain's eyes went wide just as the tool fired, erasing the ursidain's head in a shower of gore and liquidised meat and bone. The taurian's wrist snapped with the force of the explosion, shattering the bone and tearing muscles in one ear shattering 'boom'.

By the time the taurian had slumped to her knees, drooling and wordlessly moaning like an animal, Esero was upon her.

The esquinine merely laid a hand to the taurian's head for a moment, and to the human's shocked perspective the taurian immediately snorted, blood shooting from her nostrils before the beast collapsed backwards, eyes rolled back in a horrid display. Esero had only touched the monster for but a moment...

The rest of the pair's flight was uninterrupted as they made it to the pods, the human practically thrown in before being joined by Esero.

The pod fired and fled the doomed vessel, disappearing into the void, it's black paint and low profile making the pod near impossible to find by all but those who had the SOS beacon codes.

It was then, that Esero turned to the human, who had curled themselves into a corner as far from the esquinine as they could. Wide, fearful eyes watched her.

"I mean you no harm." She offered honestly.

"You said it was just emotions... You did that." Accused the shorter creature.

"To save us."

The human didn't respond, but the waves of distrust and need to tell someone else told Esero everything she needed to know. With a heavy heart she stood and moved toward the human. The human flinched and scrambled backwards as if they could push themselves deeper into the corner.

If she did nothing, the human would tell any and all that would listen. The races would turn on the esquinine and they in turn would defend themselves. The resulting bloodbath would be like the galaxy hadn't seen in a millennia. Esero couldn't allow that.

"No! Wait!" The human begged, hands up warding the esquinine's fingers away.

"I'm sorry." She whispered as a soft hand lay against the human's forehead, despite their best efforts to fight the larger alien off.

The human's mental barriers were stronger than those of the pirates. They had no desire to control themselves. To practise self-discipline. To guard themselves. But the human had those traits. Their mind resisted, but ultimately had no hope of winning.

Esero read through the human's mind as tears ran down the flesh of the tiny alien cheeks, they could feel what she was doing. Having found the moment that Esero dove over the table at the human, she erased the memory of everything that happened afterwards with a gentle caress across the human's forehead, as if merely wiping away condensation from a mirror. The human stopped fighting her.

Esero released her hold. The human immediately gasped and blinked, visibly confused as the esquinine's hand moved away.

"Wha- where?"

"In the life pod, are you okay?" The telepath asked, showing the genuine concern she felt.

"The explosion! What happened?!"

"Pirates. They boarded the ship and began hurting everyone. I brought you to the escape pods and we're here now."

"You saved me?"

"You're my ward little one. I'll always protect you."

"W-what about the others?"

"Some of the pods were already launched. Some will have made it out, others may not have. We won't know until the GC arrive and pick up the pods."

The human sagged and gave a heavy shuddering sigh.

"You're safe... It'll take time to process this, but you're safe now."

"Thank god you were there Esero..."

The esquinine pulled a tight smile that she didn't feel as the crushing guilt of her actions weighed heavily upon her.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #esquinine #horse #telepathy

[tinydefector]

IRON GIANT

Optimus x human

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: death of an animal.

Saw some of the skybound comics and had to write this because the parallel between optimus and the Iron Giant is too good not to use. So this is based on this comic panel. This may become a series if people enjoy it alot.

Enjoy the Dadimus agender

Also I use Par as a gender neutral term for Parent, but pronounced as Pa.

___________________

Optimus sighed as he finished digging the small grave, optics dimming as he gently picked up the delicate creature and nestled it into the soft earth. He had never wished harm, had faltered in these alien woods, ending a life that had merely sought to flee his unfamiliar form.

Kneeling, he carefully began restoring the soil, patting it smooth as if to apologise with each motion for the accident his bulk had caused. They hadn't suffered small blessings, at least. When at last the mound was shaped, he sat back on powerful haunches, gazing at it pensively. How many graves, both great and small, had he been forced to dig through eons defending his kind - and yet each still marked loss, whether of one or many. 

After a moment, massive fingers reached to dig up several wildflowers, arranging them with utmost care atop the fresh earth. A simple marker for one whose brief journey had crossed paths with a warrior never meant for such quiet spaces. But perhaps their essence would nourish new growth, 

Venting softly, Optimus sat beside the grave, he felt guilty, it was a chance accident, one which had hurt his spark. The sound of the forest doesn't ease his aching spark even in the bright sunlight. The birds sing and the wind rushes the leaves as if to make a song. Earth was much more lively than Cybertron ever was. Birds flutter around picking at the ground and even landing on his form as if to inspect the metal. Optimus stilled as small avians flitted unafraid about his massive frame, their delicate peeps and chirps surrounding him in a melody utterly alien yet soothing in its liveliness. optics dimming partially as if to seem less a looming threat to these curious creatures. 

After a moment, one landed upon an outstretched digit, tilting its feathered head as it studied the bright red and blue plating so unlike any perches it knew. Another joined, then more, exploring seams and transformation seem as if puzzling over this odd visitor to their domain. His spark, heavy with ages of loss, eased slightly at their curiosity. On Cybertron, all life had long fled the ravages of war - these woods teemed with it at every turn, in every trill and rustle. Their sounds wove a music this weary warrior had never known, helping him glimpse what peace might one orn bless his ancient world again.

A faint, sad smile touched Optimus 's stoic face as small wings took flight once more. Perhaps in these forests, he might find solace for his burdened spark and among these trees, he began to comprehend Earth's beauty and fragility anew.

noise in the distance spooks the birds. But Optimus doesn't move from The grave of the Doe, the noises become louder, it's small laughter echoing just off in the trees. "Baby please don't run off!" A voice calls out. Optimus froze as small steps neared the clearing, optics widening fractionally at the curious sight of tiny organics emerging where wildlife had fled moments before.

 A little child walks out into the field where Optimus sits. "Look, look Robot!" The small child calls out to their parent. Their parent is quick to grab them, hauling them up into their arms as they stare at Optimus. The child with excitement and wonder and the parent with fear. Both the older human and Optimus have a stare off neither willing to move less they spook the other. He realised, judging by similarities of form and mannerism in how they clung and shielded one another, that the larger one was the smaller creator. 

Slowly, carefully, he lowered a hand beside him upon the grass, Emitting a low, soothing rumble, cogs and gears slowly creaking as he ventilated slowly, His thoughts reached to memories of younglings in Iacon.

The younger one smiles widely and waves "hiya Robot!" They call out which makes their parent stiffen in worry. "Baby shh" they try to move backwards slowly only for their child to call out again. " But Par, robot!, like Iron Giant! From the movie, big robot! " Their child state excited. It makes Optimus chuckle lightly. "Hiya Iron Giant!" The child calls out without fear. Wrangling themself out of their parents arms. "Baby stop" they state to their child. 

Optimus himself is still quiet as he watches the child walk up to him fearlessly

Optimus could not help but vent a soft laugh at the comparison from the sparkling, a gentle puff of air that set grass and leaves dancing around them. The naive curiosity and wonder from their tiny frame spoke of no fear.

Slowly, carefully he extended a digit for the young one to grasp, wishing to show only gentleness as small hands patted over plating smooth and cool rather than textured flesh. His field pulsed calming waves as he met their bold gaze, watching tiny mouth spread in a fearless grin. At last, he rumbled in the softest volume, "hello little one." 

Optics flicked respectfully to the elder, The older human watches in worry as they freeze on the spot watching their child. The little human looks up at Optimus as they hold up their plushy. "This is Mimi! My stuffy, par made her for me, they make me a lot of things. Oh you talk too! I really like your red and blue is really pretty! Do you like rocks? I like rocks" They state as they start talking away to Optimus without a care in the world. Their parent slowly move to the ground, eyes darting and watching the large bot.

Optimus listened intently, optics softened in pleasure at the youngling's chatter and display of their favoured toy. 

"Mimi is most charming indeed," he rumbled gently in response, spark warming though his frame showed no smile. Lifting his optics once more, he dipped his head respectfully to the elder still keeping close watch. 

"You have raised a marvellous spark," he said softly to them, processors mindful of putting alien species at ease through tone, hoping honesty and calm might quell reasonable fear. "I mean your offspring no harm I swear it on my spark." he focused once more on the babbling child, granting gentle puffs of air in response to questions too swift for speech.

The older human's eyes linger on their child before flickering to bright blue optics of the large bot. " They give me a scare often when they wander off." They state as they sit and watch the large bot gently interact with their child.  "What... what are you?" They asked, they know that if it wanted to hurt them it would have done so by now but they are still cautious of the large robot. "Par He's a robot, silly!" The little human calls out with giggles.

"Indeed I am a robot," rumbled Optimus gently with a faint vibration of amusement. His optics crinkled slightly at the young one's matter-of-fact pronouncement. Turning back to their elder, his field radiated openness and trust as he answered their question with utmost care. "My name is Optimus. I was created on the planet Cybertron.” Plating shifted in a subconscious shrug. "My only wish is peaceful coexistence. I mean you and yours no harm."

The little human giggles and spins around. "Told you Par! Space Robot!" They state proudly.

optics softened as he regarded them both. "I am glad this young one remains unafraid to explore life's wonders." His tone held enduring patience. Their parent's eyes linger on the disturbed ground which had a patch of flowered grass on it. "What happened?" They ask cautiously. Optimus followed their gaze and intake a soft vent, optics dimming slightly at the memory. "Earlier I came upon this clearing, and in my haste took an innocent life by accident. A young forest dweller, unaware of my heaviness, that fled at my approach." 

Placing a gentle digit beside the flowers, he said evenly, "As all life is sacred, I took care in giving it rest, and sought to memorialise its short journey through this place.” Turning optics pained with regret, he met their gaze steadily and continued in a low rumble. 

The older ones' eyes soften lightly. They stand up and move closer. " Baby, do you mind playing over there for a second par needs to look at something," they call to their child who nods and skips off a little. The older human looks over the grave to Make sure it was deep enough to hide the deer. 

They look up at Optimus. They stand just a few steps away from him watching his expressions. "You really are like the Iron Giant, I'm sorry, it's never easy hurting an animal, it didn't suffer?" They ask softly. Optimus  blinked slowly at the question, then dipped his head in gentle affirmation and thanks for understanding shown.  he rumbled softly in response. "And no, the creature did not suffer - its journey was swift. Still I regret hastiness that cut a natural span abruptly short. But I accept also my strengths and flaws, as all beings must."

They sit down beside the large bot as their eyes watch their child play in the flowers with the butterflies. "Par, Look look Butterflies!" The little one shouts in excitement as one lands on their nose. "I'm sorry you stepped on the deer, it's horrible when you accidentally kill an animal. Thank you for burying it, it may not mean much but thank you, I don't think I would have been able to handle it if they had seen the deer like that" they state softly.

Optimus 's optics softened as he watched the youngling's innocent delight, spark warming within his frame. He pulsed a gentle field of gratitude to their elder beside him. 

"You need not apologise," he rumbled gently. "All beings strive as best they can, and errors do not diminish intent." Turning down to meet their gaze, he continued solemnly, "I am glad sparing them that sight has helped ease another incident, however slightly. Protecting innocence is important."

A faint smile warmed his stoic face as small pedes danced among blooms. "They are a joyful little spark." His field swirled sincerity. They slowly look up at him. "Are you alright?" They ask, it was the first time in a very long time that he had been asked how he felt. It makes him realise that he wasn't alright. 

He hadn't been alright for a long time. It felt strange for such a small creature to be asking him that. Optimus blinked, caught off guard by the simple question and sincere concern shining in organic eyes gazing at him. When was the last time anyone had inquired after his wellbeing? Long forgotten were those orn...

He shifted slightly, optics dimming as memory files flooded his processor - friends fallen, a world dissolved to cinders while he could only watch. His people scattered to the stars if lucky; slain without mercy if not. For so long his every function had been duty - to lead, guard, rebuild against impossible odds. But what remained of Optimus beneath it all? 

Slowly releasing a long vent, he admitted softly, "No, not truly. The burdens of many vorns sit heavy. But watching life thrive here gives solace," he gestured to the playing sparkling with a faint flicker of affection. His gaze met theirs openly. His field pulsed gratitude too deep for mere words. In such simple moments, perhaps broken things long shattered might slowly, carefully be glued back together.

_________

Taglist: @angelxcvxc

@saturnhas82moons

#transformers #transformers x reader #transformers idw #transformers x human #transformers skybound #skybound comic #transformers optimus #transformers optimus prime #optimus #tfp optimus prime #tfp optimus #optimus prime #Optimus prime skybound #mtmte transformers #mtmte #tf mtmte #transformers mtmte

[cannibalcrowz]

How I view Secco

+ My interpretation of Seccolata

Lotta people view Secco in many ways, Here's my take on him, because I do truly love Secco as a character.

For me, it's a balance, he is not entirely alien to the world and knows how to function as a typical civilian but still relies heavily on the support of other people, similar to Hol Horse Secco prefers to always be just below someone, finding it safer than being solo or a leader.

Secco himself is a failure of a person, he couldn't function in a normal society if he tried. He struggles with the boundaries of others and lacks proper communication skills, not to mention his lower intelligence and high temper make it hard to function.

Secco's motives are simple: Protection and Luxury, anything else he gets is an added bonus.

He stays with Cioccolata because of his own selfish desires, he views the world the same way Cioccolata does and it gives him even more of a reason to stay with Cioccolata: They are the same morally. Cioccolata's intelligence and wealth give Secco something to fall back on, something and someone to rely on.

Secco is also banking on the fact that Cioccolata is willing and happy to spoil him, it gives Secco a sense of purpose in a world not meant for him. Feeling loved by someone gives him

Since he isn't that smartest he relies on the intelligence of others, but that doesn't stop him from being a person.

Secco shows the ability to understand and learn. Despite the fact that he struggles with language and speaking, he shines in other areas: Like his combat, he is a beast when it comes to fighting, it's what he's good at. Secco isn't braindead, he is capable of calculating and observing his surroundings in order to make the right call, he's fast when he fights which requires skill, he adapts in order to not make the same mistake twice.

Some of Secco's intelligence shines when he:

Mimicks a Stand-Rush by hitting his elbows against the ground, using the elasticity to make his movements faster.

This isn't as cool but Secco shows a bit more understanding here, he is fully capable of calculating a distance between two things and making an accurate estimate based on his hearing alone.

Again, here he shows quick thinking, adaptability, and understanding of distance. In order to hit the stray sugar cube with the other one, Secco needed to know how hard to spit, the distance of the stray sugar cube, and the angle it was headed In order for his hit to land without him losing both cubes.

(I couldn't get a better gif) but this is basically him using his resources to his advantage, he knows how his stand works and how to use it. He adapted to the situation by changing his strategy in order to catch Bruno off guard.

Stupidity

Despite his combat skills, Secco isn't the best when it comes to communicative skills or situational skills, unlike Cioccolata he acts on his tempers and can easily stray off course when it comes to thinking of things with a level head, he's quick to lash out at others.

Secco's superiority complex makes him believe he is better than everyone else, that no matter what he deserves more, that he will always get what he wants: He's spoiled.

Secco doesn't do well in stressful situations, when put in a stressful situation he tends to freak out and think irrationally, especially when injured. He's so used to having the upper hand on regular people that he can't fathom the fact that someone else can injure him, that someone else is better than him.

He is easily tricked, tricking him in a battle isn't hard.

Secco and Cioccolata's relationship

Before I start with this part, I will say, I am a Seccolata shipper.

Secco is willingly acting as Cioccolata's pet, in no way is he being forced into the role, it's a role he enjoys playing.

My interpretation of Seccolata is that it is entirely consensual on both ends. Not mainly love driven, relying heavily on reliance, self preservation, personal pleasure, and selfish means with a tiny bit of mutual love and affection sprinkled on top.

It's an unofficially unstated relationship, not communicated between them what they are, both keeping unlabeled sexualities. Started as just a beneficial relationship before shifting into something deeper sometime along the way.

It is very dysfunctional and not good 🫶 anyways, onto the headcanons.

Despite his selfish nature and reasons for being with Cioccolata, Secco respects and loves Cioccolata in his own twisted, selfish way.

I believe Secco to be around 29-30 years old, born with a developmental disorder that affects his actions, as well as being mentally ill, past drug usage and past addictions further damaging his development and mental states, the two met after Secco had an overdose and Cioccolata spared him.

Cioccolata isn't abusive to Secco and mostly let's Secco do what he wants: After all, Secco is his pet and he knows the other will always come crawling back to him.

Secco is deeply troubled, struggling to regulate his emotions and seeking comfort and consolation from Cioccolata, who he believes to be incredibly smart and able to fix his problems. Secco tends to lash out and overreact to minor things and requires reassurance and guidance, something Cioccolata can give him.

Sometimes Secco will unintentionally or accidentally harm Cioccolata or speak negatively to him, Cioccolata is mostly unaffected by this part of Secco, though he finds it annoying occasionally when Secco pulls his hair or hits him, even unintentionally. Secco always struggled with keeping his emotions in check and his hands to himself which left him unable to create long lasting and meaningful relationships which is why he clings onto what he has with Cioccolata.

Secco's original motives for following and staying with Cioccolata were selfish, for money, protection, and praise, but somewhere along the lines he grew fond of Cioccolata and the idea of being in power alongside him, growing an attachment to him and his “lovey” and enthusiastic antics, I believe Secco enjoys acting the way he does, being underneath a higher power gives him an outlet where he isn't forced to do the thinking, just the doing. He gets a sense of self worth when he does good, the fact that someone else is so infatuated with him excites him and inclines him to do better, seeking more attention, causing jealousy when Cioccolata’s attention is on something or someone else.

Secco views other people as inhuman, unworthy of a happy life, nothing more than a pest in his way. Which is why he doesn't mind aiding Cioccolata with his sick fantasies, whether it be recording them or taking part in it (Both as the recorder or the test subject)

Secco is almost equal with Cioccolata, freely able to do what he wants and pitch in when time comes, but Cioccolata will always be the dominant power and what he says goes.

Uh yeah, that's all,, probably not the best but yeah 🫡 that's what I think

#jojos bizarre adventure #cioccolata #secco #secco jojo #jjba cioccolata #seccolata #vento aureo #golden wind #jojo part 5

[nerdy-girlramblings]

@swans-chirping-in-the-distance @gay-for-zoya, here's an update for you, if you're curious.

I'm a few episodes into season 2 of Merlin and I need to rant about the ships.

I have a very loose knowledge about the mythology surrounding Arthur and Camelot, but one thing I do know was that Guinevere left Arthur for Lancelot. This kind of seems to be happening now (I just watched the episode where Gwen gets kidnapped). Honestly, I think I ship Gwen with Lancelot a bit more. But I did ship her with Merlin in the first season because of their similar personalities but I think a friendship between them is totally fine. I thought Arthur might have liked Morgana in the first season, which felt a little odd to me because Uther, Arthur's father, is her adopted father, so I saw their relationship as siblings, especially since they tease and bicker like siblings all the time. Then Arthur has feelings for Gwen this season, which honestly felt very sudden to me but I was okay with it. Then Lancelot returned when Gwen was kidnapped and I'm a bit torn.

What this all boils down to is that ships have been teased in all different directions, it's slightly confusing me, and I think I just need to sit back and see what happens. Hopefully I don't get too into a ship and get my heart broken down the road.

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin s2 #nerdygirlramblings

[sticks-and-stones-are-great]

Whumpay - Day 7

Main Challenge - Attacks, Mental & Physical - Heart Attack Mini Challenge 7 - Torture - Shock Collar Fandom - BBC Merlin (2008-2012)

“We have a special restraint for your attack dog. If he tries anything, he’ll regret it.”

Arthur scoffed. “My attack dog?” He looked around and noticed that

Merlin had six men surrounding him while Arthur was being held by only two. “You can’t mean Merlin? That’s ridiculous!” Arthur laughed a little but quickly stopped when it became obvious that his captors weren’t joking. No one else was laughing. Least of all Merlin.

Merlin was on his knees, head bowed, blood dripping from his nose.

“You can’t be serious.” Arthur tried again.

No one spoke. They were indeed serious.

Arthur and Merlin had been out hunting when they had been ambushed by these bandits. But something wasn’t normal about all this. The way they were treating Merlin was odd. Arthur felt like an afterthought to them.

“Tie them up.” The obvious leader ordered.

The bandits were all wearing rough cloaks and patched clothing, mud-spattered and travel-worn. The leader looked much the same, except for the strange necklace he wore and the fact that he was the only one who had uttered a word so far. Every other bandit had been absolutely silent.

As Arthur’s and Merlin’s hands were bound behind their backs, Arthur took a moment to examine the necklace that the leader wore. It was a long leather band with a metal charm. The charm was similar to a coin, flat and round, engraved with a honeycomb shape.

Once Merlin’s hands had been tied, the leader brought over a small trunk and knelt beside Merlin. He spoke some words in Merlin’s ear that Arthur could not hear. But Arthur saw Merlin’s eyes widen. He saw Merlin become pale.

The leader then opened the trunk.

“You do not want to do this.” Arthur warned the bandits. “I am the prince! Either I will get myself free and kill all of you, or the king’s men will arrive and do the same.”

From the trunk emerged a strange metal collar. It shone dully in the fading sunlight. The leader of the bandits opened the collar and fastened it about Merlin’s neck. It clicked into place with an ominous grating sound.

Arthur just couldn’t believe this was happening. “Come on, he’s harmless. Merlin, tell them, you’re practically useless!” Merlin did not look up. Merlin just let them collar him.

The leader straightened up again and looked over to Arthur. “Watch now. This is what will happen if either of you make trouble.” He pressed a hand to his chest and spoke a strange word.

Suddenly, Merlin cried out. Arthur squinted against the blinding light. Lightning struck out from the metal collar and ran down Merlin’s body. Merlin seized and twitched and fell to the forest floor where he continued to writhe. His face was twisted in agony.

“Merlin!” Arthur cried out. “Stop!” He ordered the leader. “Stop hurting him! He’s just a servant!”

As soon as it appeared, the lightning disappeared and Merlin lay still on the ground.

The leader looked to Arthur. “Bring them.”

Arthur was marched. Merlin was dragged.

They traveled through the forest until the sun fully disappeared and a thin mist formed on the ground. Arthur only realized they were descending into a cave when the stars above disappeared. They were brought to a small chamber, lit by the torches that the bandits carried. Merlin was dropped on the dirt floor beside Arthur, awake, but shaking and pale.

“Merlin?” Arthur nudged him gently with his foot.

Merlin looked up at Arthur. His bloody nose had coated the lower half of his face in a patchy bloodstain. Merlin grimaced up at Arthur. Something raw and pained.

Somehow, that didn’t comfort him.

“Merlin, are you okay?” Arthur whispered.

“Do I look okay?” Merlin’s voice was cracked and hoarse from screaming.

“You could just say no.” Arthur sighed and looked around. They were still being guarded by a lot of bandits. The leader was nowhere to be seen though.

“Sorry.” Gasping, Merlin worked hard to sit up. “I thought it would be obvious.”

“Now is not the time for sarcasm.”

Merlin was quiet a moment, then spoke again, quieter than before. “I can get you untied. But I can’t get this collar off. You will have to leave me.”

“Nonsense.” Arthur laughed. “I’ll get it off you.”

“You can’t.”

“And how do you know that?”

Merlin turned towards Arthur and met his eyes. “Osgar told me.” Osgar must be the leader’s name.

“Then he was lying.” Arthur did not understand how Merlin was so gullible.

“He wasn’t.” Merlin’s gaze flicked to the entrance. “He told me…” Merlin swallowed hard. “He told me that if anyone else tries to take it off, it’ll kill me.”

Arthur watched as Osgar entered the chamber. It would make sense for a magic object to be so stupidly difficult to take off. But he didn’t feel like admitting that Merlin might be right.

“He was lying, Merlin. Why would it do that? It’s stupid.”

Merlin fell silent.

Osgar walked over and sat down in front of Arthur and Merlin. “I have some questions. If they are answered, then no one will be hurt.” He nodded at Merlin.

“I won’t tell you anything about Camelot.” Arthur snarled.

Osgar froze, then sighed and stood up. “I don’t want to know anything about Camelot.” He nodded at the other bandits in the chamber and they moved over to Arthur. They grabbed hold of him and kept him still. “I want information about Emrys.”

“Who?” Arthur spluttered. “I don’t know an Emrys.”

“I know.” Osgar stood over Merlin and looked down at the servant.

“I’m not talking to you.” Osgar touched his hand to his chest again, to the metal pendant he wore. “Am I?

Merlin slowly looked up at Osgar. “I don’t know anything.” He whispered.

“Liar.” Oskar spoke that strange command again.

Lightning flared. The very air blazed with heat. Merlin screamed. And Arthur, may he be forgiven, closed his eyes.

The questioning went on and on. Over and over, Osgar demanded information about Emrys. And over and over, Merlin denied him.

Arthur could hear his friend’s voice growing weaker. At first, Arthur struggled against his bonds and the bandits holding him. But it was no use. He could not escape. He could only witness.

Finally, there came a point where Merlin did not move anymore. He lay prone upon the dirt floor, still, too still. The metal collar about his neck had formed a shiny burn. Osgar approached, and using the toe of his boot, he flipped Merlin over onto his back.

“Stop.” Arthur begged with a raw voice. “You will kill him.”

Osgar’s eyes flicked over to Arthur for the first time in a while. “How does one kill an immortal?” Then he squatted down beside Merlin, looking down at him. Merlin’s face was slack. He was unconscious. Or dead. Arthur dearly wished he was unconscious.

Osgar stood up again. “Let him rest. We’ll try again later.”

And suddenly, Arthur was alone with Merlin.

Arthur scrambled over to his servant. He tripped and fell, finding it hard to get up again due to his bound hands.

“Merlin.” Arthur whispered and shook Merlin’s limp body.

Nothing. No reaction. The shiny burns on Merlin’s neck were the only color on him; he was so pale.

“Merlin.” Arthur shook him harder. Still nothing. Arthur bent awkwardly down and placed his ear next to Merlin’s lips. He could feel no breath. Merlin wasn’t breathing.

“No, no, no…”

Hoping he was mistaken, Arthur moved lower and placed his ear against Merlin’s chest. He listened hard. He held his breath. Willing that heartbeat into existence.

Silence.

“No.” Arthur sat back and sniffed. “No, I can’t-“ He stifled a sob.

He had to do something.

Arthur scooted down to Merlin’s boots. It took some angling, but he managed to pull Merlin’s knife out of his boot with his bound hands. Not minding the bite of the blade into his own flesh, Arthur got to work on his bonds. Hands free and slippery with blood, he pawed at Merlin’s face. He was cold and damp with sweat.

He had to do something.

Tears in his eyes, Arthur raised his fist and brought it down on Merlin’s chest. Hard.

He pressed his ear to Merlin’s chest. Nothing.

Arthur did it again. And again. Weeping silently so he could listen for a heartbeat.

His fist hurt. He had to do something.

One more time.

Merlin gasped and coughed. His eyes flew open. His limbs shook.

Arthur laughed and gathered Merlin up into his arms and held him tightly.

“Ow.” Merlin rasped. “That hurts.”

“Too bad.” Arthur sighed.

#whumpay2024 #whumpay #whump #bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon

[wolfblood-of-anubis]

Nina Martin, daughter of Hades, god of the dead, and ruler of the underworld.

Fabian Rutter, son of Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare, and battle strategy.

Amber Millington, daughter of Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty, sexuality, and passion.

#ok so look nina took me FOREVER #she was almost a child of apollo too #she was also almost an athena child but that’d make fabina… yknow lets not go down that road #but listen it makes sense Hades is her godly parent; death has surrounded Nina her whole life and her chosen one powers are similar #her parents died when she was a kid; she sees ghosts (sarah; the frobisher-smythes; senkhara; victor sr.) #she has a fear of skulls (and thus death if you wanna think harder on it) i also read an analysis by someone here ab that fear #i like to imagine that while she is a child of hades she is absolutely TERRIFIED of what that entails #she’s afraid of what kind of power lingers inside her because she already doesnt like it; she does NOT want to embrace it #anyway that’s another story; all about personal growth and development #fabian is a child of athena #he’s the brains of group (so is nina but you get it) and in s3 he is left in the brains of the group category solo #amber’s is perfect are you kidding she’s the first one i made #house of anubis #nina martin #fabian rutter #amber millington #hoa

[mel-loly]

-“Just a flower, in the middle of the field at night, a light is turned on and reveals.. A day arriving with confident hope and silent happiness!”🌹🐝

#for those who didn't get it.. today is my birthday! and so tomorrow is really the day of the party and etc.. #that's why I put “arriving” because tomorrow is a really special and very important event in my life akzbskhzjsb #and yes. I'm cosplaying as princess bela. she's one of my favorite characters and her dress.. It's literally a dream come true for me! #because I'm really going to use one similar to this one tomorrow irl and- #I won't tell you guys more details because it's personal things but- well. that's a little explain of what the art is about! #I really feel very happy.. and I admit. I don't even know how to explain my happiness but.. well... #I feel special. surrounded by people who *really* love me and show true affection for me and.. #that I just have to thank. for everything. I have gratitude for all of you! like- thank you very much. really. for everything.. #I can't even express in words how grateful I am for each of you #know that I love and appreciate everyone who is still with me on this journey called life! #and of course- I couldn't forget to talk about him lol. thanks to mike! #I don't know what would have become of me if I hadn't met someone as friendly and good-hearted as him #he was always by my side and made me feel more special in every day. in a unique way and one of the most important to me.. #I love him very much/p. and I hope that our friendship will be forever happy and respectful the way it already is! #(of course. this also works for the other friends I made here too- please don't get mad or jealous! I love you all. okay??) #and well.. that's it. #I hope I still stay here. that I enjoy my day and face any fear or harm that I might have ahead of me and.. #that I just hope for the best. I put everything in God's hands and I feel confident that things will work out no matter what the cost! #thank you guys again for everything and happy birthday to me lol-💛 #happy birthday to me #it's my birthday #mel creator #mel loly #cosplaying of beauty and the beast #i'm mel and this is my blog✌️ #my art blog #art mel #art #my art #my oc character

[chiropteracupola]

the amount of time I spend on tumblr dot com has given me quite the set of standards when it comes to artworks on the theme of 'Trans Angel', and actual museums are failing to meet those standards quite spectacularly.

#news from the cupola #if you don't want to hear a lot of inane whining stop reading this post Here. #today once again I saw this particular sculpture entitled exactly that. it is the most unpleasant thing I have ever beheld. #it is relevant that it is a sculpture about the transamerica pyramid and not about Transgender things. but I do keep forgetting that. #so many errors were made in the construction of this fucking thing. I have seen it maybe thrice at this point and it has not grown on me #in the slightest. and I know that the conversation about Good Art and what makes Good Art is certainly fraught. #but by my lights whatever this is this isn't good art #maybe it's partially that this thing is displayed among some really wild examples of Just What Can Be Done With Clay #it's surrounded by hundreds of years' worth of technical mastery and it fails to be anything of note except bad to see! #clunky sculpting! ugly glazing! forms that are difficult to parse but also not very interesting once you do see them! #and why in the goddamn does it have the twitter logo sculpted all over it. what is Happening. #everything else by this artist in this exhibit is also not great in similar ways? #it's not even bad in a way that's interesting! it's just. not good! #it all feels like they're trying far too hard to make Art That Means Something and missing by a mile #also. no one calls the transamerica pyramid that. You Say The Whole Name. or you just point at it and say 'that one'

[kitty-serenade]

When you summon your demon dad you haven't seen in 14 years for shits and giggles and he actually shows up

#billdip #brainrot #i know fanchildren oc's aren't rare but this is so embarrassing to post #they have a whole backstory but no name ಥ_ಥ #fun facts about them i guess? #theyre not identical twins #they weren't birthed in the normal human way #they technically materialized literally out of thin air #the one holding the book dies her hair brown and her hair right now is blonde with brown tips #she also has more prominent demonic features #her ears are more pointed #she has fangs and she doesnt have that much human magic #so in this au theres human and demon magic and theyre similar but also very different #you use HM differently from DM #She doesnt have alot of HM but she does have alot of DM #when she was little (toddler age) she couldnt control it and would be on fire 24/7 #but she wasnt powerful enough to damage stuff #only made her surroundings warmer #and because she was a toddler her fire is white which is literally invisible in the daytime and in light #dipper found out about the white baby fire when hed tuck the twins jn bed and turned off the light #white fire everywhere #its harmless now but it could be a huge problem later #no wonder the room always felt uncomfortably warm #teaching a basically infant demon how to use DM when youve been a HM user for the majority of your whole life was a challenge #anyways the one holding the cake has poliosis and has no outward physical appearance suggesting his a demon other than his sharp teeth #he also mainly uses HM so he could pass as a human #a dickhead human with an odd sort of energy around him #ignore the mispellings please im not using a computer and its a pain in the ass to retype all of this #if you have name suggestions please do give in asks or comments #o（ｉДｉ）o just realized i reached max tag limit hh

[aleatoryw]

au where narec and ventress both survived and returned to the temple to help when the war broke out, thus creating the galaxy's most vicious rivalry-slash-partnership between Asajj and Anakin. just bringing an absolute "it's rotten work, especially to me, especially if it's you, I'll do it but fuck do I wish I didn't have to" vibe every time they have to cover each other's backs, and gloating when the other gets in trouble with the council, but never dreaming of letting anything actually bad happen to the other because that would make Obi-wan, their mutual bestie, sad :(

#i know 'obsession' isn't a canon work any more but obi-wan directly compares the two of them and imo he's right #they're similar at the core but express that deep seated rage very differently #i think canon ventress has had to learn to rely on no one & take care of herself and thus has the personality of a cornered animal #whereas Anakin has been surrounded by others caring for him but depending on him way too strongly so he's more of an explosive #anakin gets in trouble for taking wild risks and relying on luck. ventress has never trusted luck so she just starts blasting. #obi-wan has a migraine from dealing with them both while under pressure but they're the only ones interested in matching his wit #and he does care for them both dearly so he has accepted that he is permanently holding their shared brain cell while they menace people #star wars

[ozlices]

watched the kdrama celebrity over the last few days. was hooked from the first few seconds bc the EDITING in the show, & just the cinematography in general is on a whole nother fuckin level, man.

also, just. a really great show in general. v good at building suspense & throwing loops & very nice themes/takeaways. also just a rly interesting way to convey those themes/takeaways.

i think the only issue we had w it was the romance, but. eh. it wasn't so bad that it took away from the ample amount of good shit in the show.

def recommend it!! especially to anyone who really enjoyed the glory bc it has v similar themes.

#mine #celebrity #celebrity kdrama #i think it's definitely a v interesting & SUPER fucking relevant for modern times exploration of jealousy in the modern age #it definitely felt v cathartic in a lot of ways for someone who has so much trauma surrounding jealousy being aimed towards me #& it resonated too as someone pursuing content creation #idk how the instagram grind is at ALL. ive literally never used instagram properly & rly have zero cares to. #but. all of the shit portrayed still resonates in any field of content creation #& i think its overall message of the dangers of modern jealousy in the digital age & esp the hatred in can create were done rly well. #i wish i could make it universally required viewing honestly. esp bc it's like. the message of not just the average person #but specifically ppl even in ur own circles can turn on u at the drop of a hat for such superficial shit these days. #ive heard a LOT of content creators sharing v similar experiences to ones portrayed in the show. esp the holier than thou attitude. #it def comes across as the creator did research or even has experience w these things themself bc damn. it's accurate. #and once again. THE EDITING IS SO FUCKING GOOD MAN #THAT OPENING SCENE I COULD WATCH FOREVER IT'S SO DAMN GOOD. AND SMOOTH. AND THE OP?!?!?!? BANGER!!! #id recommend it for the editing alone honestly #it's just a nice bonus that it's also just a genuinely rly great show that i think is important to watch #esp if u consume a lot of content creators online or are one urself. #much to think abt and analyze. reflect on. def opened our eyes a lot.