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yellowocaballero · 10 days

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Continuing the JJK posting: Gojo is such a mystifying character.

Action show where swinging out the gate you introduce a character who is so incredibly powerful you then have to, before every fight, establish why Gojo can't just show up and fix the problem in seconds. His existence weakens the stakes of everything. The rest of the show you are backflipping ridding yourself of him. He jobs two major bad guys off the gate and every subsequent extensive fight with them feels like cleaning up his leftovers. Put him in a box, he's ruining the game balance. So absolutely broken. As a writer it makes your job so difficult, but it's also the entire point of him. "Hey I want to write the single most badass character of all time who can do the most insane shit but I will also engage with that", rock on king.

I think he's most interesting when understood as somebody who is fundamentally alien and removed from ordinary human thought processes. In his world there is absolutely nothing he cannot do, and the thought 'maybe I can't do something' just doesn't occur to him. He is capable of doing whatever he wants and of killing anybody who tries to stop him from doing what he wants. If he is not doing something, it is because he does not want to do it. If he wants to do something (kill all of his superiors) and he's not doing it, it's because he doesn't think it's the most effective route towards what he has decided to do. I think this informs the majority of his actions (and, importantly, what he doesn't do)(murder). I think he's reasoned out that you should have a general reason to do things, and it feels like sheer luck that he places value and meaning in human life, and as such you shouldn't kill them without a strong reason. Watching the flashback arc, if I hadn't seen a) JJK and b) Naruto and you asked me which shitty teen became a law abiding school teacher and which became a mass murderer I would have guessed the wrong ones.

Anyway, the way I like to think of him, he's a raging narcissist with a god complex to match. Horrifically, he's actually a good teacher, but he is also a teacher as an ego/'raising my child army' thing. He would be the kind of mother who is a good mother but lowkey had kids also as an ego/unconditional love/lots of attention/'surely my child will worship me' thing. Gets randomly into new hobbies, obsesses over them, gorges himself on the novelty factor, before dropping them in a week once he gets too good at them. Rinse and repeat. The only hobby that does not eventually grow boring is annoying people, so it's his only hobby. Geto told him age 15 that he'll never have any friends if he keeps on casually reminding people that they live on his sufferance, so he developed another back-up hobby more conducive for friendship of helping people forget that they live on his sufferance. This has convinced him that he's a god of subterfuge, intrigue, and trickery. Does eat women out, but is convinced that this makes him God's gift to women, and is actually pretty terrible in bed because his partner's desires never even occur to him. Is convinced he's as good at sex as he is everything else. Sex is actually the one thing he's bad at, but he's not ready to hear that.

In S1 he overall left me with the general impression that his entire idea of how high school worked was sourced from anime, and as such decided that being a teacher involved nothing but field trips, sports games, beach episodes, sports festivals, etc. Did not know how the classroom component worked so he skips it. Jossed, but also left me convinced that it would be very funny if he was an immortal 150-whatever years old and had founded the high school himself out of, you guessed it, an ego thing, and never once properly learned how high schools worked and just arbitrarily made his own aging students the new principals so he could continue engaging in training the kids who are too Misfit (TM) to get apprenticeships and living his fun slice of life anime life and raising a child army of kids who will worship him any day now. Annnyyyy day now. Any day now.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #my posts #this makes it sound as if i hate him and think he's a terrible person #to be clear i think he's great and i just find characters most interesting when theyre terrible #watching the show i was just generally waiting for it to follow up on his established teenage homicidality #explain why and when he stopped being two thin hairs from murdering everyone he disliked #but they didn't so i have to suppose he's just chilled out a little #fic authors arent going far enough with him. i dont think his brain should resemble a human persons.#the 'i am above humanity' thing shouldn't be an angst thing it should be a factor of his psychology #thank you dora for stealth co-writing this post love you #might write the immortal thing might not. writing such a weird POV does sound fun to me though; id like to do it #itll either be very easy or very very hard #it feels like genuine straight-up luck that gojo's an active good guy. liike what.

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tennessoui · 1 year

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a flimsi friends epilogue

for @ishipallthings

(3K) (original ficlet this is the continuation for)

(basically this ficlet is: what if obi-wan’s love language was words of affirmation and anakin’s was touch)

Suddenly, Obi-Wan finds himself in a new and rather startling situation: he is allowed to touch Anakin Skywalker whenever he wants, and speaking to him becomes a matter of tracking him down amongst the fields and administrative buildings.

They no longer have to play a rather intense game of holo-call tag across star systems, and suddenly, Obi-Wan’s carefully crafted and extensive chart of time differences across the Rims and sectors of the galaxy is obsolete.

Anakin, for the very first time in their lives, occupies the same time sector as Obi-Wan does.

They share a sunrise.

Stars, they share a bed most nights, even when both are too tired to do much more than flop down onto the mattress beside the other.

It’s…strange, if Obi-Wan is being honest.

New and strange.

Obi-Wan has had relationships before, of course. He’s slept with a fair number of his AgriCorps cohort, moved through partners he’s met off-world, had standing dates with a few sector heads whenever they were on the same planet.

But none of them has ever been Anakin.

Perhaps the difference comes from how often Anakin seems to want to touch him, which is all the time.

And it is amazing, of course it is: the pressure of Anakin’s hand on the back of his neck, the slide of his ankle along his calf, the brush of his knuckles against his ear as he leaves for the fields….Every moment they spend together, which is the majority of moments that make up any given day, is spent touching.

If they were touches with intent behind them, perhaps Obi-Wan would be able to understand and then grow used to the feeling. If everytime Anakin found him in the kitchens and boxed him up against the counter ended up with them fucking on the floor tiles, Obi-Wan could prepare himself for it.

It’s not as if he would protest. Stars, it’s not as if it’s a trial to sleep with Anakin.

But—but most of the time, Anakin will push him up against the counter in the kitchens, kiss his neck, and just hold him there, as if all he cares about is being close.

He has an awful habit of spreading out across the bed they share while he’s asleep, starfishing his body so that there’s no place Obi-Wan can lie that would not overlap with some part of Anakin.

And—and it’s not as though Obi-Wan minds. Of course he doesn’t mind. He’d spent several years—five, to be exact—wondering what it would be like to have Anakin in his arms exactly in this fashion. He’d spent far too long on the other end of a comm call, listening to Anakin breathe and thinking about the innumerable amount of space separating him from the ability to intertwine their fingers.

So it’s frankly decadent to be able to shift slightly at the dinner table and brush shoulders with Anakin Skywalker, to stick his foot out the barest inch and run into the sculpted muscle of Anakin’s thigh.

It’s—it’s so—it’s not bad, but it’s—it’s just—

It’s so strange. And new.

And Obi-Wan—well. Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’s the sort of person to appreciate new anymore, at least not to the level he had as a youngling.

New means…unknown. New means temporary.

“No, it fucking doesn’t,” Kabre says when Obi-Wan tries to untangle the mess of feelings in his stomach with his help and a bit of wine. “It just means new.”

Obi-Wan frowns, but the other is not finished.

“You’ve been ass over for him for ages, Little Obi,” Kabre points out, even though Obi-Wan is currently forty years old and comfortably middle-aged. “And he left the Jedi Order to be with you, didn’t he? And—”

“You do not need to remind me what all he has given up so he can be by my side,” Obi-Wan interrupts, feeling faintly sick. It’s probably the wine.

Kabre narrows a pair of eyes. “Is that what this is about? Are you feeling bad cause of decisions someone else made?”

“I told him to come—”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But only after he begged.”

Obi-Wan colors a faint red, he can feel it blooming across his cheeks. He never should have shown anyone that last letter from Anakin.

“Maybe it’s part of it,” he admits grudgingly. “He gave up his life to come here, and I—there’s nothing I can do that would be of the same…devotion.”

“But he’s not asking you to do anything like that,” Kabre says.

Obi-Wan grabs the bottle of wine and takes a rather unflatteringly large gulp of the liquid. “I’ve never done something like this,” he mutters. “That’s what I realized the other week. I—I’ve had relationships, but I’ve never…loved someone the way I—ah. The way I love Anakin. But now, it’s…it feels so….”

“New,” Kabre nods sagely. “And I bet it’s not that you hate the touches or hate having him beside you or hate fucking hi—”

“Alright, alright—”

“It’s that you’re you, and it took you ten years to admit that there may, perhaps, quite possibly be a few things you enjoyed about working with the AgriCorps even though it’s not the Jedi Temple. Face it, Obi. You don’t like new. New makes you uncomfortable.”

Obi-Wan tries to shove him off the bunk, but as Kabre has at least a few heads on him in terms of height and double the muscle, he doesn’t go anywhere.

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan parrots waspishly before he stops himself. But the reality of the situation is that—well. Kabre might have a point. “But I can’t make him wait ten more years for me to get used to the idea of having him so close all the time. It’s not fair to him.”

Kabre hums and then shrugs. “You could talk to him about it,” he suggests, and Obi-Wan barely bites back a sneer.

Perhaps he’s not fast enough, because Kabre chuckles and claps him so hard on the back that he buckles forward. “Or not,” the man says. “My advice is to just–stay the course.”

“Stay the course,” Obi-Wan repeats. “Kabre, abandoning ship was never an option, I think I may have misrepresented the current iss—”

“No, you idiot,” his friend says. “I know that. You’re not about to break Skywalker’s heart over the fact he likes to hold your hand.”

When Kabre puts it like that, it sounds fairly stupid.

“I meant—stay the course. Love him the way you know how to, until you find yourself less afraid of the new way.”

“I’m not afraid–”

Kabre’s laughing too loud to hear him, stretching and exiting through the door of his lodgings before he can really start to protest.

So then.

Love him the way you know how to?

What does one even do with such a statement?

—--------------

Obi-Wan starts writing letters to Anakin again.

Not always, as it would be incredibly awkward to respond to his lover’s good morning kiss by shoving a piece of flimsi in his face and running away, but—well.

There are some mornings where he slips from their bed early and leaves a short note on the pillow like some twisted sort of apology.

Dearest one, they all begin.

Some are very short missives, letting Anakin know where he will be for the majority of the day, if he will be late for dinner, the likelihood of them seeing each other during lunch….

And some, when he knows Anakin returned late from the labs and will wake up far past sunrise, are longer. He sits quietly at the desk next to their bed and writes, occasionally pausing to rest his chin on his palm and just look at the man beside him, beautiful in the dawn light, even while snoring. Even while getting drool all over Obi-Wan’s pillow.

These letters are long meandering walks through Obi-Wan’s thoughts and observations. He never rereads a single word of them, knowing that if he did, he would scrap the whole thing from embarrassment.

He talks of his dreams and nightmares from the night before, his faded memories of the Jedi Temple, even older memories of his brother though they may be nothing more than the ghosts of a lonely child’s imagination. He admits that too. It’s easier to admit those sorts of things in letters. It feels as if he’s discovering words he never quite knew existed.

Nothing about writing to Anakin is new, and so it is remarkably easy to tell him these sorts of things when he doesn’t have to use his mouth to do so. He just writes, and he knows when Anakin finds him and kisses him at the end of each day—sometimes in the middle of lunch—sometimes only a few hours into the morning—that Anakin has read the letter.

And just like the way he never pulls away when Anakin touches him, he knows that his lover has accepted the offering. That he understands what it means.

—------------

Obi-Wan doesn’t quite register when Anakin starts writing back, but he does. Small notes left throughout their quarters, a reminder to break for lunch on the thirty-second page of a report Obi-Wan reads in the afternoon. A smiley face on a sticky piece of flimsi taped to the fresher mirror.

I adore you, Obi-Wan will write and leave on his pillow.

You should wake me up in the morning, you look beautiful with drool on your chin will read a note pinned to Obi-Wan’s outer robe, and Obi-Wan will wear a smile for half the day.

—-------

“Hey,” Anakin murmurs, dropping into the chair next to Obi-Wan’s. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“After I spent so long cooking this for you personally,” Obi-Wan drawls, tilting his face slightly upward so that Anakin has a better angle to press a kiss against his cheek.

He’s surprised by how natural it feels.

He’s even more surprised by how gutted he feels when Anakin does not bestow upon him his customary greeting.

All he gets is a light chuckle and no kisses. “You’ve made my favorite,” Anakin jokes in return. “Cook Violet’s famous meat pie.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Obi-Wan replies with the slightest of smiles as he moves over slightly to allow Anakin more room at the mess hall table.

Anakin beams at him. “You been thinking about me?” he asks, but he doesn’t slide his tray closer, doesn’t entangle their legs or take Obi-Wan’s hand in his.

He slings his arm over the back of Obi-Wan’s chair, but—but that’s all.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan says on autopilot. It is true, at least. He is always thinking of Anakin.

And apparently, he’s gotten quite used to always touching the ex-Jedi Knight as well, because his fingers feel as if they’re burning as the distance between them stays the same. Minimal but there.

“I can’t stay for long,” Anakin tells him, helping himself to a bite of Obi-Wan’s dessert, even though he hates warmed fruit and is just going to—-yes, make that face exactly. “Sunai wants to leave soon.”

“Sunai?” Obi-Wan repeats, brows furrowing. “Wait, where are you going?”

“The AgriCorps Council—which I do believe you sit on, Obi-Wan—has greenlit a temporary departure from Bandomeer to Juloneer, so that Sunai and I can test the tech we’ve been working on. Growing long growth, short fruition produce in challenging terrain.”

Obi-Wan frowns. “I suppose I didn’t realize you would be on that project.”

“Obi, I’m currently the lead on that project,” Anakin points out, but he’s smiling fondly at him. “I’m not sure how you missed that part.”

“Wait, the seeds you proposed taking are the ones that take months to go properly,” Obi-Wan says. “You’ll be gone—”

“—Months,” Anakin nods, grin slipping off his face. “Yeah, at least three. We need to make sure everything’s set up and well-established before we even think about sending for replacements. Not when user error or handler switch-over could damage the results.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan replies, putting his hands in his lap. “Yes, of course.”

“I’ll have my comm,” Anakin murmurs, finally closing the distance between them and resting his chin on Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “And you can always write to me.”

“Cheeky,” Obi-Wan mumbles, but his heart isn’t in it.

Anakin? Gone? For months?

His lover’s aforementioned comm goes off, and Anakin pulls away much too quickly for Obi-Wan’s liking, flicking his wrist up to look at the message, and then sighing. “She wants to go now,” he mutters, standing as if he hasn’t just sat down. “Asteroid belt’s clear right now, won’t last for much longer. We don’t hit out of here now, we’d be stuck waiting for days.”

That doesn’t sound too bad to Obi-Wan, who hadn’t realized Anakin would be leaving and now feels vaguely cheated of his goodbye.

But Obi-Wan is a mature man who cares about the AgriCorps and its future, so he doesn’t say this. “Of course,” he says instead, looking up at Anakn as the man stands. He tilts his head to the side slightly, because surely Anakin is going to kiss him before they spend months apart, but Anakin doesn’t.

Anakin does not.

He runs his fingers through his hair and touches their foreheads together briefly before he leaves the mess hall all together.

Obi-Wan stares after him.

—----------

It is the culmination of his greatest fears, the ones even he had been too wary to name: having Anakin and then losing him to distance, to duty, to—

“Alright, give me that,” Kabre demands, taking the mostly empty wine bottle away from him. “You’re making me sick to my stomachs. All of my stomachs, Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan, I have three stomachs.”

Obi-Wan stares morosely up at him.

“I miss Anakin,” he mumbles plaintively.

“I think the entirety of Bandomeer knows you miss Anakin, Little Obi,” Kabre says rather gruffly, patting him on the head. “Unfortunately for all of us, it’s only been four days.”

Obi-Wan falls back onto his bed and stares up at the unforgiving ceiling. That means there’s at least eighty more days until Anakin comes home.

“I’m cold,” he realizes, rolling over onto his side.

“You’re lying on six different blankets.”

“Anakin holds me when he’s not getting me to hold him,” Obi-Wan continues as if Kabre hasn’t said anything. “And sometimes he strokes his thumb over the back of my hand and it makes me feel really very warm. Warmer than six blankets put together.”

“I thought you were struggling with all the touches,” his friend says as he carefully takes off Obi-Wan’s boots.

Obi-Wan kicks back onto his back to look at the ceiling again. “No,” he denies but then feels bad for lying. “Okay, perhaps.”

“Only you would be fucking wasted and saying perhaps—”

“But then I started writing letters to him again, like you suggested. And every letter, it was about love. It was about how much I loved him. And then he started writing me back and every time I got a letter, or a note, or a sticky flimsi, it would be like he was saying he loved me in a way he knew I would understand. And then I realized that maybe his letters were all the times he touched me, like the sticky notes. Something small, but it meant he loved me. And I’ve been trying to re—return the favor, touch him first, but it’s hard. And now he’s gone.”

Kabre tosses a blanket at him.

“But I love him so much,” Obi-Wan mumbles. “And I miss touching him. And I miss him kissing my cheek and holding my hand. I want to hold his hand. What if I got him used to holding hands and then disappeared for three months? That’s not fair! ‘S just not—not done.”

“Then make it his problem until he comes back,” Kabre raises his hands, palms splayed towards Obi-Wan. “For the love of the Force, make it his problem not ours. Not for eighty-three fucking more days.”

Obi-Wan thinks about that until he falls asleep, which is really only a few minutes later.

—----------

Dearest one,

It gives me no great pleasure to admit this, but I think I must: I miss your touch to an alarming degree. It has been a terrible six days without you beside me. I’ve been spoiled rotten by your presence, and now my hands reach out to touch someone who is not there, my teeth ache to bite into ghost flesh, my lips are unkissed and lonesome.

I had time today between reports to think of what I would do to you the next time you find yourself on Bandomeer. I believe I would start by pulling you into my lap and counting your eyelashes. I would kiss every freckle on your shoulders before lowering my attentions further.

I would. . . .

—-------------

Anakin bursts into Obi-Wan’s office an entire month before he’s scheduled to return from Juloneer, hair mussed and robes wrinkled.

Obi-Wan blinks at him in confusion for several long seconds before he is on his feet and moving around his desk to grab at Anakin. “You’re—you’re early,” he says, shaken down to his core as his hands glide over Anakin’s shoulders and back to grip at his small waist and pull him forward firmly into his embrace.

“Of course I am,” Anakin mutters, nuzzling further into his touch and skating his nose up Obi-Wan’s jawline. “Someone kept sending me erotica while I was supposed to be working.”

“They were love letters,” Obi-Wan replies primly, and Anakin barks out a laugh, swooping in to kiss first one cheek and then the other.

“To my ass, maybe,” he replies with a grin.

“Oh no,” Obi-Wan breathes as he pushes Anakin around to lean against his desk. “Did the one I wrote to your cock get lost in the mail? This Force-damned mailing system, I swear.”

Anakin laughs again, but the sound shrivels up when Obi-Wan sinks to his knees in front of him.

“Let me show you what I meant,” he grins up at his lover. “Perhaps actions do speak louder than words.”

This of all things makes Anakin’s eyes grow soft, makes him rest his hand against Obi-Wan’s temple reverently. “I think they sound about the same,” he says, before clearing his throat. “But you should hurry with this, I technically threw out half our arinkline-rich fertilizer so I could come back and see you, so we don’t have much—oh, Force, yeah, Obi.”

Obi-Wan hums, rather proud of the compromise they’ve reached.

It feels like a pivotal moment in their relationship.

It also feels really damn good when Anakin;’s hands thread into his hair and pull as his voice sings out all the words Obi-Wan’s been dying to hear.

#my fics #flimsi friends au #obikin #i feel liike this is mostly sfw but let me know if you want it tagged differently #anyway theyre just dramatic idiots who love each other so so so so much

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