#i wrote a thing

[regicide1997]

"No more Mr Niceguy!" —Ms Niceguy, coming out as trans

Give me your money:

#flop era #i wrote a thing

[sailorkamino]

obi-wan wondered what jango fett could possibly gain by making an army for the enemy.

then he held a dying clone for the first time. so young his armor was still unpainted. and he realized.

this is how you destroy a jedi.

– empaths do not belong in war zones.

#star wars #clone wars #i wrote a thing #aw i made myself sad :( #jango fett #is a bitch #obi-wan kenobi #is an angel

[nonasuch]

Did you ever write more to the "vader finds out that leia I'd his daughter" story?

No but it’s been percolating in my head for a while so let’s go

(continuing from this)

The first thing Vader does is cover his tracks. Wipes the security cameras for the whole cell block, wipes the prisoner logs, makes sure that no trace of Leia’s capture or escape will be in the files synced daily with Imperial Center. Puts in transfer orders for that nervous junior officer to somewhere very far away and very quiet. Saves only one short vid clip, to the secret hard drive hidden in his own respirator.

I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.

While he’s doing this, his children (children! plural!) are getting themselves into trouble, and out again. Apparently the trash compactor was involved. He will have more footage to scrub. Somehow they’ve acquired a Wookie.

Kenobi is with them.

Vader should have foreseen this. Of course, Kenobi.

His presence saturates the Force, nearly drowning out Luke— and Leia, too, now that Vader knows to look. It’s enough to break Vader free from the chill of shock, his rightful fury seen as through a window right up until it shatters, and engulfs him again.

But he forces it back. He wants answers, before he kills Kenobi.

(I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.)

He hasn’t played the clip again, but it echoes in his ears nonetheless.

When he faces Kenobi, Vader is still off-balance. Kenobi seems as calm, as unruffled as he ever did, though he’s far too obvious in buying time for Leia and Luke to attempt an escape.

Vader asks him: “Do they know?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Kenobi says, light and unconvincing.

“You kept them from me,” Vader says, and that is a thought that feeds the Dark, that lets him hammer at Kenobi’s saber until he’s nearly past his guard—

“I kept them from your master,” Kenobi says, his voice still even and pleasant and false, hardly betraying his exertion.

“I’ll kill you for this,” Vader vows.

“I expect so,” says Kenobi. “I swore I’d die before I let Palpatine harm another child in my care. If dying will keep them from him, it’s well worth the cost.”

(I’m Luke Skywalker. I’m here to rescue you.)

By the end of this speech Kenobi recovers a little of his old skill, turning Vader’s blows aside instead of merely bearing up under their weight. Too soon, Vader falters, losing the momentum of rage. They both fall back to defensive positions. Any living troopers have long since cleared the area; the whole deck is a ruin of saber gouges and shattered armor.

Vader rarely speaks without thinking. The nature of his breathing apparatus makes this a necessity, more often than not. But the words escape him anyway.

“Who named them?”

And now Kenobi is the one who falters. It is satisfying, if short-lived. “Their mother,” he says. “With her last breaths.”

A long time ago — a lifetime away — there was a list of names. Two lists, really, to start with, and then another of the names held in common to both. No record of it survives, not even on the hard drive hidden next to Vader’s heart.

On Naboo, children are often named for virtues. A child might be called Aluuk, for kindness, or Alié, for wisdom.

On Tatooine, a child’s name is the parent’s hope for its future. Perhaps Lukka would grow to be free; perhaps Leyah would grow to be fierce.

And perhaps they have. Vader does not know. Kenobi took that from him.

Vader won’t kill him yet, though. He still has questions.

#asked and answered #star wars #i wrote a thing

[asongbirdandanoldhat]

written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘pool’ wc: 442 | rated: G | cw: none

Eddie Munson nearly didn't make 21. But even before becoming a buffet spread for interdimensional hell bats, Eddie never would've imagined spending his 21st birthday at Steve Harrington's. After wide games in the woods with the world's most metal teens, having his pale skin preserved by Nancy's stern gaze and endless sunscreen supply, and somehow surviving the dreamlike vision of Steve, tanned, topless, and happy, Eddie was ready declare his birthday a roaring success. But the glint in Gareth's eye, the way Jeff was watching him while chatting to Buckley, had Eddie on edge. He surveyed the suspiciously quiet yard. Absences noted, Eddie's eyes met Dan's. He tilted his head in question. Dan's hands rose. Eddie honed in. He was great at charades. But before interpretations could begin, Gareth slapped Dan's hands down. His hissed words didn't carry, but the shake of his curly head was unmistakable. Whatever was afoot, the band were in on it. The kids shuffled back outside in an extremely conspicuous formation. Eddie thought they might be smuggling Harrington between them, before he spotted Steve in the doorway, watching them, expression fond. Dustin was vibrating. "Present time." "We already did presents," Eddie said. "Sure. But there's one left." "The big one," Lucas added. "Don't ruin it," Mike muttered. "I didn't say what it was." "Do I get to know what it is?" Eddie derailed, amused. Dustin nodded to Will, who carefully counted down, "Three, two, one." The boys stepped aside, revealing Max, holding his present, and El, holding Max's elbow. Eddie felt tears prickle, as he took in the unnecessarily wrapped gift. There was no mistaking the shape. "You bought me a guitar?" he croaked. El helped Max place the gift in Eddie's lap. His hands slid instinctively around it, the weight felt just right. "Open it," El instructed. Ripping the bright paper revealed a familiar x-shaped body, not the dappled red of his world-saving sweetheart, but a solid black. She was a starless night sky. She was beautiful. "I- How?" "We pooled our allowances." Eddie didn't know how much they got, but he knew how quickly they blew through it. There was no way. Eddie's eyes drifted beyond the kids, finding Steve.

Steve, who'd given Eddie a card, claiming that he didn't have a present yet, hadn't known what to get him. Steve, who'd looked embarrassed when Eddie had called the party a great present and meant it. Steve, whose guilty smile all but confirmed him as majority contributor to the beautiful instrument in Eddie's lap. Steve, who Eddie would have to find a way to thank, to explain what this meant.

For now, Eddie smiled back.

#steddiemicroficjuly #steddiemicrofic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #fic #stranger things #been struggling to touch my bb rn so this seemed a good sideways step back to writing #obv it started as more than 700 words so also a good exercise #i wrote a thing

[makeandshift]

No boundaries!BFF with Hasan

bless @the-phantom-author for putting this out into the universe for everyone to enjoy

Everyone who sees them interact for any amount of time immediately thinks they are dating, which they will both deny. Not even in a ‘no we’re not’ kind of way, but acting like it’s the craziest thing they ever heard anyone say, like it is on par with the sky is green. None of this helps any of the allegations of course.

Either of them goes on a date and once they get home they immediately calls the other to tell them all the details. They know entirely to much about each other’s preferences, needs and wants, and half of these conversations just end up being a variation of ‘how could they ever think you’d like that?’ and ‘that is not what you need from a relationship at all’

Just barging into each other’s homes like they live there. Could be the middle of the night, could be at 7 am, who even knows honestly. They probably bring groceries as well because they remembered that the last time they were over x, y, and z was running out.

What even is a guest bedroom? Sleeping over means sleeping in each other’s bed all cuddled up with zero space between them. Also they probably sleep worse if the other isn’t next to them.

Hasan has totally offered his bestie to move in with him at least a dozen times. Anytime something is wrong with their apartment he mentions that he has plenty of space in his ‘mansion’.

Forehead kisses!!!! So many, all the time, no reason needed.

Random gift giving just because they saw something that reminded them of each other. Hasan probably spends ridiculous amounts of money on these. Don’t even dare mention liking something because he will have it delivered the next day.

Must sit next to each other! It’s just the rules okay. Inevitably one of them ends up with their head on the other’s shoulder, a hand resting on their knee, some hand holding to toy with their jewellery. Or just a combination of those.

Fidgeting with each other’s jewellery is totally a common thing for them, btw. Anything else doesn’t even cut it as a coping mechanism anymore.

#words words words #hasan piker x reader #hasanabi x reader #gn!reader #blurbs #i did it #i wrote a thing #no boundaries!bff

[spectral-musette]

I'm running a few days behind on Satine Week, but I finally finished a very short fic (just under 600 words) set during the Manadalore Mission (pre-Episode I) for the prompt "Jewel".

...

            Satine let out an exasperated huff as she set her data reader aside with more vehemence than necessary.

            “What?” Obi-Wan prompted. He also set aside the archaeology periodical he was browsing on his own reader, knowing from prior experience that if he ignored such displays she’d only sulk. After all, if the ruins of the temple uncovered by Master Cordova had waited centuries for discovery, his study on the topic could wait until Satine had vented her ire a little.

            She picked up the reader again, showing him the headline that had so offended her. He squinted at the thin, spiky Mandalorian runes, deciphering and translating as fast as he could before she grew impatient.

            “’The Jewel of Kalevala’,” he read aloud, demonstrating his growing fluency in Mando’a. She didn’t correct him, so he assumed he’d translated correctly. She was evidently too annoyed to be impressed with his intellect just then, and he tried not to be overly put out at the wasted effort. “That’s you?” he concluded, uncertain.

            “Oh, indeed,” she repeated, voice falsely smooth, the expression on her beautiful face deeply indignant.

            “That’s…bad?” Truthfully, he was perplexed. It didn’t seem like such a negative epithet. In fact, he thought it rather fitting, though he knew better than to say as much when she was making that face.

            “Of course it is,” she said, tossing the reader back onto the table.

            He crossed his arms across his chest, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “Then I suppose it doesn’t mean that you are… treasured, beautiful?”

            “In Basic perhaps,” she conceded a bit more calmly, showing forbearance with his ignorance of her culture despite her peevishness. “To a Mandalorian, the implication is…” She paused to gesture, her hand graceful even as she waved it about in frustration. “A sparkling bauble. Something frivolous, merely decorative, without strength or purpose.”

            “All that in one word?”

            She shrugged. “If Mandalorians excel at something besides pointless destruction, it’s insulting each other with economy.”

            He reached to unclip his lightsaber from his belt and set it on the table in front of him.

            She cocked her head, fair brows furrowing in a charmingly perplexed expression. “Are you going to fight the data reader on my behalf?” she asked with a soft snort of a laugh.

            He spared her a half-smile before he turned back to the saber, deactivating the power cell and starting to unfasten the casing. “Obviously not. I want to show you something.”

            Her intent gaze did distract him a little as he went through the familiar motions of disassembling his lightsaber. He slowed a little lest he fumble a critical component in self conscious clumsiness. Still, it only took a few moments to reveal the kyber crystal. He turned it a little, letting it catch the light. It sparkled, clear as ice, and seemed to glow from within.

            “When you say ‘jewel’, this is what I think of,” he explained. “That’s why I thought the word suited you,” he added, glancing at her quickly. He bit his tongue before he waxed poetic about the color of her eyes. She was clearly in no mood for flattery about her looks, even if it was genuine.

            “It is beautiful,” she breathed.

            “It is, but it’s more than that as well. It channels energy, amplifies the Light. It’s incredibly precious, remarkably powerful.”

            “I wish that’s what they meant,” she said sadly.

            “You will show them what kind of jewel you are,” he promised.

            “I will certainly try,” she agreed, reaching out to take his hand.

#Satine Kryze #Satine Week 2024 #Duchess Satine #obitine #(but just softly though) #I wrote a thing

[maripr]

Ozcarnation merge musings from my twitter

I wrote these months ago and finally sharing them on tumblr.

Why I differentiate between Ozma and Ozpin, a 🧵

I disagree with the general interpretation of where the merge subplot is actually heading in canon: most people think it will actualize, I think it will be reversed, either stopping the merge for good or reversing it after it comes very briefly into reality.

Oscar's arc, paralleling Ruby (mainly, but other characters share the trait as well) has been about him trying to find his own place and his own story, but the shadow of supposed ego death is always looming on him and terrifying him.

Everytime he takes a step forward, he's reminded again of the expected fate for him, something that some characters actively want (like Ironwood).

Examples:

volume 6, after being treated as a stand-in for Ozpin, currently MIA, Oscar takes his own decision to forgive the team and be prepared for battle alongside them. While reconciling with tem, with his new combat gear, he still can't help but be haunted of "how much time he has left".

Volume 7 places him in a conundrum the entire volume: he's developing as a fighter, growing up as an adolescent and forging stronger relationship with his newfound friends. Jaune clearly comes to see him as a little brother and there's something interesting going on with Ruby that may or may not result in a romantic relationship down the line. The team actually worries about his opinion on stuff as well, and Ruby clearly values him as Oscar Pine. Meanwhile, the very person who's helping in his growth is James Ironwood, who cannot shut up about wishing Ozpin was there everytime they meet, and telling Oscar he will basically cease to exist to his face with a big shiny smile. It's unclear at this point if James knows or not about how terrified Oscar is of the merge, as the boy never voices this fear. I think he just wants not to think of it. So even at the end, where James finally says "fuck it, Oscar or Ozpin, i don't need either" and shoots him, Oscar starts coming onto his power, in a scene that's both powerful and bittersweet, paralleling Penny.

Both of them, for their qualities, were chosen by a magical destiny, one capable of beautiful and powerful magic, that they don't want, never wanted and will struggle with with the next volume. Penny's arc is a direct parallel and commentary to Oscar and the way it ends might comment on Oscar's arc. Not in death but that Penny could finally show everyone she was her own person who could choose for herself.

Coming back to volume 8, Oscar has his worst time yet, finally voices his fear of merging with Oz, and comes back from it scarred but stronger, having helped Ozpin trust himself and others and gaining a new ally in Emerald.

But, see where I'm getting at? This is no resolution.

Oscar has briefly shown his fear but at the end of the volume, much like Ruby has done for several seasons, swallows the literal torture he endured for half of it and the fear of imminent ego death due to reawakened magic, and chooses to focus on the positives.

Boy, if he had fallen into the ever after maybe he would have healed too. Or maybe we would have no plot at all bc Oscar and Ruby would have noticed each other's pain, which would have been nice as well, but sometimes therapy has to be brutal.

And also Oscar can't conclude his arc in the ever after because his own is complimentary to Ruby's but also a contrast to it. Ruby wants to emulate her mother and ideal of what a hero is and must learn that she is enough as she is already. Oscar does NOT want to emulate or be his father figure, whose og incarnation was basically THE ideal hero of fairytales. He wants to be enough but doesn't know who he is yet, since everyone keeps telling him to his face that Oscar Pine isn't enough.

SO anyway. If both Penny (a commentary on Oscar) and Ruby (a direct parallel)'s arcs end with them realizing their own individuality, I 100% believe Oscar's arc will end like this as well.

And when i say end i mean end is just a new beginning.

Before moving to my final argument, let me also briefly comment on how Jaune and Weiss' arcs are similar but different to Oscar and Ruby's. It's interesting because, by main character status, Jaune as the leader of team JNPR, is a lancer and a foil to RWBY and Ruby inside of team RWBY's dynamic, Weiss, as Ruby's partner, is the lancer and foil to Ruby and inside new JNPR/ORNJ, Oscar, as Jaune's new partner, is his lancer and foil.

And both Jaune and Weiss deal with identity but more in a role they want to play as expected to what their family might want, initially, and later as the knights they idealized in fairytales. This is way too long for this post, but again, fascinating. And also Whiteknight slays.

So, my final thesis:

Oscar's arc will end with him affirming his own individuality over the merge.

So why can't Ozpin also do the same?

The god of light's intention in bestowing Ozma with this method of reincarnation was the positive idea of him never being alone.

And this works, more or less, in different lifetimes. Even in the very first, the farmer who we initially assumed was completely eradicated, still voiced his opinion and reminded Ozma of the good path.

In later lives, the spirit and the host lived more comfortably, having estabilished an equal partnership.

But... They still end up as one person? They're literally so like-minded that their enormous guilt complex makes one believe he's responsible for everything the others did?

I feel like this is what the story is trying to say, much like what many characters say of Oscar, and it's framed as a bad thing.

And incorrect. Oscar is always "punished" for what his predecessors did because he will be Ozma eventually.

The voice still going by the name of Ozpin feels responsible for everything that happened since Ozma was brought back to life and literally agrees with his own torturer that yep, he deserves all the punishment and pain for it.

Every incarnation eventually reaches a point where they start to identify with their predecessors in such a way that contradicts what the god of light's intention was (then again, we have been shown time and time again that the god of light is not very good at his job).

Instead of a partnership where each soul helps the other moving forward and never los hope, we have a continuous cycle of guilt and self-abuse accumulating. Oscar is gnawing at it the entire time. Who's to say Ozpin, as the professor, also didn't?

And Oscar is going to break the cycle.

As he does that, I want Ozpin to also realize his own individuality.

This is why I want an happy ending for all the incarnates, not just Ozma. Merged they may be for now, in the physical realm, why should only Ozma move on to a peaceful afterlife? All the people who ended up clogs in the ever ticking clock and had no say in it were all people with their own lives, their own friends and families, their own name. And they deserve peace too.

#ozpin #oscar pine #ozma #ruby rose #jaune arc #penny polendina #weiss schnee #ozcarnations #rwby #rwby meta #professor ozpin #ozma rwby #headmaster ozpin #rosegarden #whiteknight #oz family #i wrote a thing #ozma 2.0

[laurenkmyers]

Summary:

a sweet little smut fic highlighting Chen Yi's possessiveness and the ensuing chaos of navigating his relationship with Ai Di. ao3

Chen Yi knows Ai Di is a jealous person.

Every instance where Boss rings and Chen Yi instinctually picks up on the first ring is always accompanied with Ai Di’s face screwing up as he mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like an insult thrown in his direction. But what Ai Di doesn’t realise is that it’s entirely reflex. If I ring, you pick up has been drilled into his life since he joined the Chen family. It’s not going to stop overnight, no matter how much Ai Di wishes it would.

But Chen Yi now at least understands why Ai Di acts this way. He understands a little too well what Ai Di’s jealousy looks like, a deep-rooted fear of abandonment and a life of yearning for something he never thought he’d ever get takes its toll. But Chen Yi does everything in his power to make up for the feelings he knows Ai Di tries and fails to hide from him.

What Chen Yi can’t seem to comprehend though is his own jealousy. He never thought of himself as a jealous man. A little possessive, maybe, but never jealous.

Recently, however, he seems to have pushed those limits to the brink. 

He always knew he hated Ai Di’s insistence on running that goddamn bar, and now that he owns it he’s there more often than he’s not, and that wouldn’t be an issue if Chen Yi wasn’t also hyperconscious of Ai Di’s history with the men who frequent his bar. 

Chen Yi was always privy to the way Ai Di slept around, even more aware of the way that used to feel like a punch to the gut each time he’d witness another man’s tongue in Ai Di’s mouth. But he never let himself think too deeply on why it made him feel that way, it was simply easier to brush it under the rug and let the knot unfurl in his stomach the moment Ai Di returned to him. Because he always did return. 

Ai Di never stayed the whole night at his hook ups, no matter what time of the night it was, he would always return home to Chen Yi, and the routine was always the same. He’d open Chen Yi’s bedroom door and linger for a moment before heading to his own room. 

On those kinds of evenings Chen Yi got into the habit of leaving his door ajar, though he never really knew why at the time, other than the thought of it bringing Ai Di a sense of comfort and that was usually his top priority. He now knows that it had become a comfort to him too, knowing his boy had come back to him. 

Now that Ai Di belongs to him in every way, it’s increasingly harder to ignore the way hungry eyes linger on his boy. Chen Yi knows Ai Di would never stray, and he also knows that the men Ai Di used to fool around with were just meaningless fucks to ease the pain of his yearning when Chen Yi was too stubborn to notice that Ai Di’s heart belonged to him from the very beginning. 

Thankfully, Chen Yi isn’t the asshole breaking Ai Di’s heart anymore, he’s the one who gets to look after it. And despite the fact he’s staked his claim with matching dog tags and the many additions to Ai Di’s rather impressive collection of collars, men still think they can look and occasionally touch what doesn’t belong to them. 

It drives Chen Yi to the point of literal insanity. 

Tonight is no different. 

When Chen Yi arrives at the bar just after 2am it's to a visual of Ai Di dancing next to some faceless man who can't seem to keep his goddamn hands to himself. Chen Yi’s immediate response to seeing another man’s hands on Ai Di, innocent or not, is normally to haul ass over there and pull Ai Di back where he belongs, but for some reason he’s rooted to the spot, watching the gentle grind of Ai Di’s hips as they sway to the beat of the song. Chen Yi is stuck, mesmerised by the way his boy moves his tiny body, the lazy smile that graces his face, the slow trace of his hands as they make their way over his head. 

Chen Yi may have been late in distinguishing his complicated feelings for the boss and the way they differ from the way he’d convinced himself he felt for Ai Di, but one thing that was never complicated was the way he always had his eyes on Ai Di. Never letting him sway too far away, and when it did inevitably reach a point where Ai Di slipped from his line of sight, he always made it everyone’s fucking business. Rounding up the troops to find Ai Di.

Now is no different, but the implications behind his possessive thoughts are much clearer and far less innocent than they once pretended to be. Especially in moments like this, as Chen Yi’s hungry eyes latch on to a single drop of sweat as it slides caressingly down Ai Di’s collared neck.

Chen Yi openly watches its descent until it eventually tucks itself neatly into the piece wrapped lovingly around Ai Di’s throat and when the fog finally settles at its destination Chen Yi’s entire body betrays him. His head fills with cotton and a choked breath escapes his lungs and forces it way out of his lips as the burning inferno inside him ramps up to its highest setting. 

He’s now aware only of the sweat dripping down his own neck in response and he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the realisation that Ai Di is wearing his most recently acquired collar. 

The collar Chen Yi gifted him for their joint birthday. 

The collar that was meant to be worn only in the privacy of their bedroom. 

The collar with the words ‘Boss Chen Yi’ engraved into the heart of the leather. 

Chen Yi’s traitorous cock twitches painfully in his pants as he realises the implications of Ai Di’s choice in collar for this evening. 

The possessiveness claws at his insides like a feral beast. 

Chen Yi is fighting for his life. 

But all too suddenly the moment shifts, twisting into something ugly and dark as the brainless oaf, who’d been nothing but an afterthought in Chen Yi’s horned-up mind, decides to put his filthy lips on Ai Di’s body. 

And something inside Chen Yi snaps.

Desperation and possessive rage liquify the cotton into something brittle and jagged and suddenly all Chen Yi is able to process is the most painful way he can kill a man with his bare hands.  

With those thoughts in mind, Chen Yi storms the crowd of scantily clad boys and men, who part on instinct, the way prey scatters whilst being hunted in the wild, and it leaves his path so spectacularly clear that it’s a shock even to him how easy his target just became. 

The force of impact upon landing, plus Ai Di’s impulsive nature, already with half a retort in his mouth, forces the boy to swing round just in time to catch the full scope of Chen Yi’s rage as he pummels the pathetic excuse of a man to the ground. Chen Yi’s fist flies back and forth as blood splatters across his knuckles. 

Blinded by pure instinct alone, Chen Yi hears nothing over the sound of his fist connecting with soft flesh, and the satisfying crunch of bone. He pulls back one final time when other sounds pop back into the scope of his brain and halt him in his track.

Ai Di’s voice calling his name is all it takes for Chen Yi to stop, the rage slowly  dissipates and the world shifts back into focus. All he knows now is the fire in Ai Di’s eyes as he drags Chen Yi’s face to look at him and the soft words that follow, “Take me home.” 

Home, yeah, great fucking idea. 

Chen Yi doesn’t know how they make it out of the club or how they make it back to their bedroom, but what he does know is the taste of Ai Di on his tongue as he laps at the sweat still sitting beneath his collar before moving up to devour is boys mouth with teeth and tongue. 

“Christ, Chen Yi- what’s gotten into you?” Ai Di moans into the kiss, already half hard and desperate as he rips his lips away to bare his neck once more for Chen Yi’s needy tongue. 

Chen Yi can hardly focus on words when actions are a much more effective way of getting his point across, but he does manage to choke out a forceful ‘mine’ which has Ai Di grabbing his hair by the fistful and responding with a smug, “Yeah Boss, all yours.”

Which only furthers Chen Yi’s spiralling thoughts to consume and mark and bite as he drops to his knees, latches onto the neckline of Ai Di’s shirt and tears it clean in half. 

Ai Di huffs out his frustrations about his ruined shirt, but the throaty little whine he releases as Chen Yi bites down on his nipple masks any real threat in his voice. Chen Yi smirks around the bud as he feels the shudder run down Ai Di’s entire body. Chen Yi doesn’t stop, leaving his marks all over Ai Di’s chest, but working a particularly nasty twin pair along the collarbone and hip bone, his favourite places on Ai Di’s body. Only then does he pull back to admire his work. 

Ai Di is now fully hard in front of him, tenting in his pants and Chen Yi wants nothing more than to get his mouth back on his boy, so he does, mouthing hotly at the wet patch already forming on Ai Di’s red cargo pants before stripping him and getting his mouth where he really wants it, wrapped tightly around the head of Ai Di’s weeping cock. 

The sweet little noises and elongated utterances in english of ‘please’ and ‘fuck’ from Ai Di settle something dark in Chen Yi’s gut. He lets himself fall under Ai Di’s spell even further when he opens his throat and lets his boy take what he needs. Chen Yi chokes around a moan on a particularly deep thrust and when he surprises Ai Di with a soft caress across his neglected rim Ai Di’s legs buckle. 

Fully aware of the effect he’s having, Chen Yi pulls off and catches him before he hits the ground. Chen Yi never lets him fall.  

Ai Di barely notices the change as he’s hauled into Chen Yi’s arms and thrown down onto the bed. But the little shit does bare his neck again, purposefully bringing attention to the goddamn strip of leather that started all of this. 

“I see you like your new present.” Chen Yi smiles, tapping at his own throat like Ai Di isn’t aware of exactly what he’s talking about. 

“I do.” Ai Di purrs. “Shame it didn’t work though.” He pouts, thumbing the metal ring next to Chen Yi’s name and tugging it menacingly. “Men still think they have the right to touch me, Boss. What’re you gonna do about it? As hot as that display back at the bar was, you can’t beat them all to death.”  

Chen Yi growls and yanks Ai Di’s cargo pants and boxers clean off. 

“Watch me.” He says fiercely as he spreads Ai Di’s legs and tries to dive between them, but Ai Di’s reflexes have always been faster. He chuckles darkly and stops Chen Yi’s descent with a tiny, but powerful foot in the middle of his chest. 

“Ah ah ah- take it easy, Boss.”

Chen Yi tries to evade him, ignoring his plea as he goes to grab the leg attached to the foot currently halting him in his place, but as he does Ai Di launches him backwards with a forceful shove. 

“Before you touch me, I need something from you.” 

“Ai Di…” Chen Yi whines as he makes to step forward one more time, but Ai Di shuffles himself further up the bed out of reach. 

“Be good, Chen Yi.” He says as he settles himself on his knees amongst the mountain of pillows. “I’m yours, always have been. So I’m gonna need you to show me.” 

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Chen Yi groans. 

“Not with your cock, Yi. I need you to own me. I need those men at the bar, and any man who dares to look in my direction from here on out to know, explicitly, who I belong to. The collars are pretty, but they aren’t enough.”

Chen Yi’s frustration at the truth behind Ai Di’s words burn him to his very core. He wants the same thing, but what more can he possibly do than kill every single man who tries to touch what belongs to him? 

“Tell me what you need.” He says darkly. 

Chen Yi watches through half-lidded eyes as Ai Di squirms, slowly pumping his tiny fist up and down his still spit-slicked cock. Impatient little thing thrusts into his own fist and sighs. But in his distraction Ai Di has pulled something shiny from behind his back and dangles it in front of himself. It takes a minute for Chen Yi to realise what it is he’s seeing, but when he does his eyes widen. 

“You want me to-?”

“-I want them to know, Chen Yi.” 

Ai Di attaches the metal leash onto the ring at the front of his collar and offers the other end in Chen Yi’s direction. “I need you to own me.” He repeats the sentiment from earlier. 

Chen Yi’s entire body burns with need. His hands tremble as he reaches out to grab the end of the leash being offered by his good boy. He yanks on it to test its strength and Ai Di lets out the most delicious sound that goes straight to his cock. 

“God, Ai Di- this is-”

“-what I want, Chen Yi.” 

Chen Yi nods in agreement and tugs once more on the leash. 

Ai Di’s eyes haze over as a result and he follows blindly, flopping forward onto his hands and knees and crawls, closing the remaining distance, and showing his appreciation by nuzzling his face against Chen Yi’s still covered cock. 

“Need you.” Ai Di sobs after lapping too long at the rapidly staining fabric. “Need your cock now.”

Chen Yi wraps the metal chain around his palm a few times to shorten the length and then uses its remaining rigidity to tug Ai Di away from his cock as he slowly bends to Ai Di’s level and whispers, “I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” 

Ai Di’s responding shiver sends him mad with lust. 

Chen Yi uses the leash to force Ai Di onto his knees in a deep arch, with his ass in the air. He takes a moment to watch as Ai Di sinks into the mattress, panting into the sheets as he uses both hands to present himself just for Chen Yi. 

The vision alone has Chen Yi biting his lip hard enough to taste the all too familiar metallic tang as blood fills his mouth. It shouldn’t, but it still shocks him sometimes how willing Ai Di is to bare himself so brazenly for him. 

He knows it’s his own goddamn fault, but it still irks him to think about the fact that he wasn’t the first, second, or even third person to have the privilege of making a home in Ai Di’s sweet little body, but what does bring a small iota of comfort is the knowledge that his boy has never submitted the way he does when he’s with Chen Yi. 

Ai Di has always been his feral kitten by nature; full of fire and violence and destruction, who only ever turns soft and sweet and submissive when he’s got Chen Yi’s cock buried in his ass. And that beautiful submission reveals the truth of Ai Di’s loyalty. Chen Yi is, and will always be, the only one who ever gets to see Ai Di this way. He won’t ever take it for granted again, and he’ll spend the rest of their lives together proving it. 

Chen Yi makes quick work of lubing up his fingers before trailing the tip of one against Ai Di’s fluttering hole. Ai Di arches further into the touch, hissing at him to ‘stop teasing and hurry the fuck up’. Ai Di never has to beg twice for anything. But because he’s being such an impatient little shit Chen Yi decides to show him who’s really in charge by yanking the leash harsher this time.

“Greedy boys get what I give them.” 

But despite his own authority, Chen Yi knows he never truly denies Ai Di anything anymore so without thinking too deeply into why that is he pushes one long digit all the way in, curling his finger with pinpoint accuracy right against Ai Di’s sweet spot. The responding cry tells him everything he needs to know to continue pumping with one, two, three fingers until Ai Di is a writhing mass of soft limbs beneath him, crying desperately into the mattress as Chen Yi forces him past the point of climax, toppling him straight into hysteria. 

As much as Chen Yi enjoys making an absolute mess of his boy, he hates not being able to see the ruin for himself, so with a practised ease he flips Ai Di onto his back and laps at the remaining liquid splattered across Ai Di’s torso with a deep hum of appreciation. Using Ai Di’s distraction he strips himself, and begins fisting his own cock a few times to try and calm the deep seated hunger he feels brewing in his belly. 

Still pumping his cock, Chen Yi watches carefully as Ai Di slowly makes his return to the surface with a soft smile and groggy eyes and when Ai Di blinks up at him in semi-awareness Chen Yi chuckles softly, releasing himself in favour of Ai Di’s attention and asks, “You back with me?” 

Only when Ai Di nods back does he then ask, “think you can take more?” with a soft pat against Ai Di’s ass. 

Ai Di scoffs, “One orgasm isn’t going to take me out. Barely felt it, actually.” The little shit giggles and then makes a grab for Chen Yi, pulling him flush between his spread legs until he’s using the new found, post-orgasm strength to switch their positions so that he’s now straddling Chen Yi, hovering menacingly over Chen Yi’s painfully neglected cock. 

“Think you can take me riding this thing,” he fists Chen Yi’s cock in his tiny hand and flicks the head over his slickened hole once before releasing him to grab the leash still attached to his neck and pushing it into Chen Yi’s open mouth, “while you choke me with that thing?” 

Chen Yi spits out the looped leather end and once again wraps the remaining metal chain tightly around his palm before he drags Ai Di’s lips onto his own. They both sink into the kiss, ripping into the core of one another as they lick and suck and bite and allow each other to take and take and take. The kiss leaves them both breathless and when they do have to pull away, they don’t go far, stealing breath from each other’s lungs as they pant into one another’s mouths. But the need is too great, and their magnetism pulls them back together again and again until Chen Yi uses the chain to haul Ai Di away, though it pains him to do so. But he’s literally on the precipice of release, and the fear of coming too soon brings him back to reality. 

“Fuck.” Chen Yi breathes, “Need a minute, Di. Don’t wanna come until I’m inside you.” 

Ai Di whines and impatiently grinds down on his cock, “Then get to it, Boss. Want you to fill me up.” 

Chen Yi  groans, burying his head in the crease of Ai Di’s neck and mumbles into his collarbone, “Stop saying shit like that or I’ll blow my load right now.” 

In moments like this Chen Yi has to hand it to Ai Di, when he wants something, there is no one in this fucking world that’s going to stop him. And so, without warning Ai Di pulls Chen Yi’s head out of his shoulder, arches his back, expertly reaches around to find Chen Yi’s cock and sinks down on it in one fell swoop. 

Chen Yi barely has time to process a single second of what’s just happened until he’s literally buried balls deep in Ai Di’s ass. And when his brain eventually catches up to his cock, he can only throw his head back and cry out in pure fucking bliss.  

“Jesus fucking christ, Ai Di!” Chen Yi bellows as Ai Di starts bouncing his perfect little ass up and down at a pace that would be considered psychotic to anyone other than Ai Di. 

The crazy fucking psychopath, giddy as ever, fucks himself on Chen Yi’s cock like it was made just for him and it forces Chen Yi to lie back and let him taketaketake until they’re both satisfied, but a small part of his brain reminds him that he knows Ai Di and the residing chaos that follows his boy sometimes needs to right kind of taming. 

With that knowledge he��s looping his finger into the metal ring of Ai Di’s collar and pulling. Hard. The immediate effect sends Ai Di hurtling toward subspace, his greedy hole doesn’t stop taking, but the bouncing slows into a dirty grind, which makes Chen Yi twitch inside him, but he’s focussed now, and he desperately wants Ai Di’s full submission.

“Good boy.” Chen Yi croons, “Taking me so well.” 

Ai Di swoons at the praise, but Chen Yi knows he’s not entirely in his own head right now, can see it in the way Ai Di’s eyes have lost focus, can feel it in the way his limbs have loosened, and all the tension in his shoulders, his thighs, his arms, have gone as he lets Chen Yi take full control of his pleasure. 

Chen Yi smiles in open adoration of the trust Ai Di has given him. “Gonna take care of you, Di. Give you what you need.” 

Though he doesn’t pull on the leash again, Chen Yi does fit his entire palm under the collar and gives Ai Di’s neck a squeeze, watching the way Ai Di falls completely under as his eyes roll back into his head. 

Chen Yi keeps a soft, but steady pace as he fucks up into his boy, angling himself until he hears incoherent babbles from Ai Di that let him know he’s hit his mark, and only when the noises reach a fever pitch does he flip the pair of them so he can begin thrusting brutally into Ai Di to bring him to the brink of his bodies pleasure. 

Well versed by now in the exact tone of Ai Di’s pleas when he’s close Chen Yi buries himself deeper, and squeezes a little bit harder until Ai Di’s eyes fly open. Chen Yi doesn’t dare stop, but he basks in the moment Ai Di topples head first into the abyss.  

It doesn’t take much for him to follow suit. The tight vice of Ai Di’s warmth sends him spiralling into his own. 

When Chen Yi regains the baser functions of his body and brain he lifts his head from Ai Di’s neck with a trail of soft kisses and lets the sweet words spill from his lips as he tries to coax Ai Di back up. 

“Come back to me, Di. Open your eyes, baby.” He whispers against Ai Di’s cheek, as he wipes away the tears that fell sometime during their peak. 

Eventually, the coaxing starts to take effect and Ai Di shifts, his breath evens out, and slowly his eyes flutter open. They’re still dopey and glazed, but there’s a sense of awareness creeping back in that makes Chen Yi beam with pride. 

“That’s it, baby. I’ve got you. You did so well.” 

Still unable to produce actual words, Ai Di hums his affections back, a sign that he’s almost fully resurfaced. 

Chen Yi stays inside Ai Di for as long as he can, having learnt from previous experience how vital it is to Ai Di in this vulnerable state to have Chen Yi as close as humanly possible. Because as much as they both know Chen Yi won’t ever leave, Ai Di’s brain, especially in this state of flux, likes to trick him into thinking he’s not worthy of love.

So Chen Yi stays- exactly where he belongs- for as long as he can. 

And when Ai Di finally returns, it’s with his usual sass and resuming chaos. 

“So, Boss, when are you going to parade me and my new leash around for all the boys to see.” 

Chen Yi wouldn’t have him any other way. 

#kiseki: dear to me #kiseki #ai di x chen yi #chenai #louis x nat #kiseki dear to me #smut #fanfic #i wrote a thing #because the severe lack of fics made me depressed #enjoy #i love comments 😏😏

[s-horne]

There was a time when Tony had panicked about his future. 

He’d had Peter young, just a couple of years into a crappy relationship that had fallen apart long before their bundle of joy had come and couldn’t be fixed even by Peter’s cherubic smile. From the very first moment, Tony had loved his boy. There hadn’t been a moment that Tony had regretted the relationship that had led him to his son, or ever wished that things had turned out differently. Not when Peter had had a phase as a baby of not sleeping through the night if the temperature wasn’t exactly 78 degrees, not when he’d learnt to talk and hadn’t exited his “why” phase for weeks on end, not even during the long weekend when Peter had caught pretty much every bug floating around his daycare all at once. 

Parenthood was where Tony thrived but, through it all, he’d lain awake at night and longed for someone next to him that wasn’t 2 feet tall and not quite potty trained. He’d wanted a conversation with another adult that wasn’t hurried at the drop-off gate or about yet another late project at work, and he’d wanted an arm around his waist when he was dangerously close to falling asleep whilst making himself his first coffee of the day. 

Everything he wanted for himself, he also wanted for Peter’s sake. He’d wanted someone else to see Peter’s drawings and marvel over them as they went up on the fridge day after day after day. He’d wished for presents from a grandparent at Christmas and another parent who could calm them both down when Peter refused to sleep even as the sun started to rise on the horizon. 

Tony had spent years worrying that no one would take on a small child with an absent parent who could come back and cause a storm at any time. He’d never expected anything to come from a one-night stand when the lights had been turned on in the morning and all of Peter’s toys could be seen in their scattered glory. 

But, then again, Tony had never imagined Steven Grant Rogers. 

.

They’d decided early into their planning that they didn’t want to do a walk down the aisle. Neither of Tony’s parents would be there to walk with him and Sarah had gotten so tearful at the prospect of their engagement alone that they didn’t trust her to be able to see to walk down the aisle on the wedding day itself. 

What they had decided instead was to have Peter as the star of the show, with the rings safely in his possession as he walked down the aisle to both of his parents waiting for him at the altar. 

And, boy, did he steal the show. 

Tony watched with a wide grin as Peter all but skipped up the aisle, his tuxedo so little it was almost comical. Casting a glance to his left, Tony felt something ridiculously fond catch in his chest at the pure and unabashed expression of love on Steve’s face as his eyes tracked Peter’s dance. 

“God, look at him,” Steve murmured.

“He’s gonna drop those rings before we can get them,” Tony laughed. 

“Yeah, probably. But he looks cute, so I’m sure we’ll survive without them.”

Tony scoffed. Be that as it may, he wanted a ring on his finger.

All of a sudden, Peter let out a gasp and started running. “Grandma!”

A ripple of laughter made its way through the guests as Peter headed straight for Steve’s mother. 

“Oh, look at you, my darling,” Sarah crooned, bending down and smoothing a hand over Peter’s hair when he reached her. “You look so gorgeous, little man."

"Hi, Grandma!"

"Hello, my love," Sarah laughed.

"Wanna sit with you!"

"Of course, but first you have to give Daddy the rings. They're very important.”

Peter took Sarah’s hand in a tight grip and practically shoved the ring cushion in Tony’s direction without looking at him. Steve laughed loudly, his eyes still solely on Peter as well.

Tony might have been jealous if he hadn’t been so relieved. So, yeah, he thought to himself as he untied the rings from the cushion and handed them to the officiant, he really needn’t have worried after all. 

#i wrote a thing #well #i wrote half a thing #stony fic #stony ficlet #stony au #stevetony fic #stevetony ficlet #steve x tony #peter parker stark #peter stark rogers #sarah rogers #superfamily fic

[convenientalias]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 莲花楼 | Mysterious Lotus Casebook (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Di Feisheng/Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi Characters: Di Feisheng, Li Lianhua | Li Xiangyi, Fang Duobing Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Engagement, Humor, Possessive Behavior Summary:

“This is A-Fei,” Li Lianhua introduced him to Fang Duobing. “He’s—”

“His fiancé,” Di Feisheng said bluntly.

Fang Duobing gaped. “Ah?”

“Well,” Li Lianhua tried to hedge.

“We’ve been engaged for ten years."

Or, the one where Li Xiangyi and Di Feisheng had an engagement contract for alliance purposes, and Di Feisheng is NOT going to let that go just because Li Lianhua goes by a different name these days.

I wrote 7k in a frenzy. Please enjoy.

#mysterious lotus casebook #di feisheng #li lianhua #feihua #i wrote a thing

[regicide1997]

Thesis: Mental health problems are (largely) due to chemical imbalances in the brain, and should be treated with psychiatric medications. (Biomedical model).

Antithesis: Mental health problems are (largely) due to harmful societal structures, from abusive relationships and the nuclear family all the way up to the nation state and capitalism itself, and should be treated by abolishing these structures. (Social model).

Synthesis: If not for capitalism, the meds would be free.

EDIT: Wanna help me pay for the meds lol?

#i wrote a thing

[bookshelfdreams]

#I CANNOT BELIEVE I POSTED THIS WITHOUT FINISHING IT #that's what pirate brainrot will do to a motherfucker #if you rbd the other one I'd endlessly appreciate it if u could rb this one instead #anyway. still gonna explode fr. #our flag means death #blackbonnet #i wrote a thing

[timidxtempted]

standing in front of a mirror, panties hanging from my mouth... cunt still wet, dripping from your earlier use...

fingers slip between the sticky folds of my cunt as i suck my undies clean of the mess you made of me... middle finger resting against my hard clit...feeling my heartbeat... thud, clench... thud, clench...thud spasm clench

leaning against the counter... grinding into my hand, into that finger against my aching hard clit... you behind me, always watching... your hand caressing over my ass before you smack it with a hard slap...again...again...again

my gasps and whimpers muffled by the panties in my mouth. you reach and pull them out...bringing them to the drip between my legs...smearing more of my cunt into the flimsy fabric....shoving it back into my mouth as you watch me continue to suck

when my head drops you grab me by the hair and force me to face the mirror so i have to watch myself suck on the mess you make of me... you turn my ass a hot vibrant red with your hard fucking smacks

i feel your hard cock against me as i grind back and forth...i watch your eyes on mine as i become more and more desperate for your cock...your cum...your permission...you

i feel your smirk as much as i see it in the mirror...the look in your eyes... my body responding to that look as much as to any spoken words...

please...

please daddy...

mumbled around my mouthful of panties

choose, my little fucktoy

confused, i can only watch you, pleading with my eyes for help to understand

choose...

daddy's cum plugged in your ass all afternoon... daddy's cum fucked down your throat... or daddy's cum seeded deep in your needy little cunt

you have until i finish counting to decide...

one more stinging slap to my ass... desperation dripping from me...i hear you start to count... the only thought left in my head is

f u c k

#mirror reflections #daddy's fucking smirk #f u c k #i wrote a thing #choose wisely

[asongbirdandanoldhat]

Feast your eyes on the beautiful art I commissioned from my wonderfully talented friend Emily for my steddie fic, the present only

Steve releases the button, but leaves his hand where it is. He runs his thumb over the skulls and cross of the ring on Eddie’s index finger. Eddie's hand trembles a little at the strain of holding the brick-sized walkie for so long. Steve adjusts his grip so he's taking more of its weight.

"I'm sorry," Steve murmurs between them. Something about their closeness, their mirrored postures hunched over the counter, has Steve almost whispering. "This is not the night I had pla-"

"I don't know, Steve, " Dustin interrupts again, judgemental tone not lost in transmission.

Image description: Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson holding a large walkie talkie together, over a kitchen counter strewn with takeout menus. Steve's eyes are closed, expression mildly frustrated. Eddie watches him, fond. Between them, the walkie talkie blares.

#they're holding hands your honour #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #art #fanart #fic #i wrote a thing #image description under the cut

[spectral-musette]

belatedly, for the obitine week prompt “armor”:

I’m not sure if there’s canon (or legends content) about this, but I’m pretty sure somewhere in Mandalorian culture there should be rituals involved in taking off your lover/spouse/partner’s armor...

(ficlet under the cut, ~800 words)

           Satine stretched for her bedside table, searching in the darkness for her comm unit to check the time.

           The viewport, just visible through the sheer curtains shrouding the bed, showed the otherworldly glow of hyperspace, where there was neither morning nor night. She squinted at the screen and quickly dimmed it as soon as it lit.

           Sundari time was early morning yet, about an hour before she was usually up to check messages and make tea. Coruscant time was the small hours, which explained why Obi-Wan was still deeply asleep next to her.

           She indulged in a long look at him. He’d pushed aside the coverlet at some point. One hand rested against his bare chest, the other was stretched towards her. She wanted to brush soft kisses against his eyelids, his freckled nose, the swell of his lower lip.

           Instead, she pushed herself up, swinging her feet to the floor and kicking through the jumble of clothing until she found her chemise.

           It was an enticing garment, silken, slightly sheer, and elegantly draping. She felt her cheeks heat at little, both in slight embarrassment at her own calculated purpose in choosing it, and at the memory of the enthusiastic response it had elicited. In addition to its other attractions, it was quite comfortable, soft and just the right weight for the comfortable warmth of her bedchamber on the Coronet.

           She knelt on the floor, still sorting through the discarded garments. At the bottom of the heap, her fingers met a cold, hard surface, and she couldn’t help making a disdainful face as she extracted and studied the armor piece.

           She pushed aside her feelings of self consciousness and the little knot of strange, primal dread that always accompanied her performance of her version of this ritual, and she splayed her palm flat against Obi-Wan’s breastplate.

             Sacred plate that shields the heart of my beloved, remain whole and strong until the next time I unfasten you to show him my love.

             She bent and kissed it, then turned it a little toward the dimmed wall sconce to check for any stray traces of her lip rouge (though she expected it was long since smudged off her mouth) on the bright white surface.

           “Satine.”

           Obi-Wan’s voice startled her, and she fumbled the breastplate, dropping it onto her lap.

           He had rolled over onto his side, his expression quizzical and his hair adorably tousled, falling over his forehead in thick, heavy waves.

           Caught in the act, she heaved a sigh and reluctantly confessed. “It’s an old Mandalorian custom, blessing the armor of a loved one.”

           He smiled a little, affectionate and gentle, and sat up, holding out a hand to her.

           She set aside the armor and went to him, climbing back onto the bed and stretching out next to him, only the cool, delicate silk of the chemise between them.

           “Thank you,” he said gravely.

           “You don’t have to pretend to believe in it,” she chided. “I’m not sure I believe in it.”

           “But you do it,” he pointed out, smoothing her hair tenderly off her forehead.

           “Well, it’s worked so far,” she said, smiling a little as she traced a fingertip lightly through his chest hair. “At this point, it doesn’t feel right to risk it.”

           “Do you give this blessing every time we’re together?”

           “Every time you have the nerve to wear that awful armor when you come to me,” she retorted, quirking a smile at him.

           He ran a hand over his beard thoughtfully. “Is that how it’s meant to be done? In secret, while your loved one sleeps?”

           She shook her head. “Nothing about what I have been doing is really what should be done.”

           The armor should be beskar.

           The lover should be a Mandalorian warrior, and most certainly not a Jedi.

           And the blessing should be bestowed when the armor is removed, each piece set aside with reverence, not the impatient way she peels him out of his, like a hungry seabird with a shellfish. Though that last part, she would expect, tended to be often modified, knowing Mandalorians.

           “Now that I know, can we do it properly?” He sounded eager to please her.

           She shook her head, smiling at him fondly. “If you like, I would love you to be part of it,” she said. “But it can’t ever be quite proper, I’m afraid.”

           He took her hand, kissing her fingertips and giving her a melancholy smile, acknowledging the difference in creed that had always been an impediment to their attempts to be part of each other’s lives.

           “My ancestors will never forgive me. Not when you wear that plastoid rubbish you choose to call armor.”

           He laughed, pulling her into a long kiss.

#Obi Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #Obi Wan/Satine #obitine #obitine week 2022 #Star Wars art #my art #pencil sketches #I wrote a thing #okay I thought that clone/jedi commander armor was made of plastisteel but turns out it's called plastoid #possibly I've gotten this wrong in the past lol #sometimes I just let my heart guide me on the Star Wars lingo because I've been cosuming EU content for so long it's generally in my bones #but apparently my heart is wrong sometimes

[smittywing]

Not Just Cannon Fodder

I finished a thing!

#fic actually #batbrats #tim drake #jason todd #jaytim #jason todd/tim drake #red hood/red robin #red hood #red robin #writing #jason todd's potty mouth #dcu #i wrote a thing