#arc training program

[spkyart]

Almost all my fav panels in the kny manga are the scribbled scrimblos

[cc1010fox]

Fox, whispering: Wolffe...Wolffe... Wolffe, waking up slowly from a deep sleep: Wh--Huh? Fox? What's wrong? Fox: Help... Wolffe, sitting up worriedly: Help? With what? Are you hurt? Fox: No...I--... Wolffe: Fox, you can tell me anything. If you need my help, I'll help you, vod... Fox: There's something near my bed...I need you to kill it... Wolffe, realizing what it is: Don't worry. Wolffe the Spider Slayer is on it. You just wait here in my bunk until I tell you it's safe, ok? Fox, hugging him: ...Thank you so much...for not laughing at me. Wolffe, hugging back: I would never laugh at a vod asking for help. Cody, sleepily: Wolffe? Why are you awake? Fox? You're shaking! What's wrong? Wolffe: It's nothing. Go back to sleep. Cody: No way! Fox is shaking! Whatever is wrong, I want to help! Rex, hopping off his bunk: Fox needs help? Wolffe: No. You go back to sleep too. Bly: Did someone hurt Fox? Wolffe, letting out a frustrated sigh: You're going to wake up the whole room. Gree: Did I just hear that someone hurt Fox? Fox, whining: I'm fine! It's just...a...spider... Cody: ...Well, what are we waiting for? Let's squash that eight-legged intruder. Rex: I'll get Alpha-17 to let us into the armory. A blaster is more effective than a boot. Bly: I'll guard Fox. It'll have to go through me to get to him. Gree: It'll have to fight me first. Fox, touched: Guys... Thire: You're all di'kute. It was just a spider. I stepped on it, so go to sleep. Fox: ...

[sevdidntdie]

Just brainstorming here, but I’m pretty sure there’s three types of ARCs.

First, we got the OGs: the Alphas and the Nulls, like Ordo, Spar, Alpha, Jangotat, Fordo, those guys, right? Funny thing is, those guys are never assigned to any battalion, right? Fordo leads the Muunilinst 10, Jangotat led his own detachment, Alpha becomes a training officer and advisor, and Ordo and the rest of the Nulls are single-man black ops.

Second, there’s the promoted-ARCs — the regular clone troopers who get to undergo ARC training to become battalion-attached ARCs. I mean, Fives and Echo weren��t serving as one-man armies, as the Alphas were supposed to, right? They were serving as special forces attached to only the 501st! Same with Jesse. So while the original ARCs are the single-man fighters, these ARCs are the ground troop fighters, serving with the infantry.

Finally, not so sure about this, but I’m pretty sure the third type of ARCs are the clone commanders and captains, like Cody and Rex. After he got back from Jabiim and all, Alpha started teaching a class of some command skills he thought the clone officers could use for commanding their respective units. Sure, these guys weren’t called ARCs, but I think it would be a similar function to how the 101st Airborne has “STRAC”, or how US military officers go through the Leavenworth school.

I started thinking about this because Commanders Colt, Blitz, Havoc, and Hammer are all supposed to be ARC troopers, but there just weren’t any ARC commanders, and also assigning 4 ARCs to one battalion seems like a bit of a waste.

(?)

[shironezuninja]

10 days of emotional contempt, and I finally put these OSTs on my iTunes program this Saturday. They were ready to be uploaded to my laptop’s music library by last weekend, but that dumb Spider-Man moral obligation got in the way.

[artinandwritin]

I might not have done anything for Niv's birthday, but at least I'm doing some worldbuilding for the tribe he's part of during his childhood

Ain't that something

Anyway here's the do it for him board again cuz i think im morally obliged to post that on his birthday now

happy birthday baby boi

[bowtieengineering]

Arc Flash Safety Training - Bowtie Engineering

Arc flash safety training is a program that teaches workers about the hazards associated with arc flash incidents and how to reduce the risk of injury or death. The bowtie engineering approach is a graphical method used to analyze and evaluate potential hazards in electrical systems, such as those that could result in an arc flash event. This training combines the bowtie methodology with practical safety information to help workers understand the dangers of arc flash, how to identify potential hazard scenarios, and how to take appropriate precautions to minimize the risk of injury. The goal of arc flash safety training is to protect workers and ensure a safe work environment.

[motherroam-rs]

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’. 

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes. 

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training. 

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there.  “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way. 

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening. 

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink. 

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths. 

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own. 

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on. 

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash. 

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer. 

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant. 

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay. 

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with. 

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate.  “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder. 

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good. 

 You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail -  a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand. 

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs. 

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.” 

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement. 

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.” 

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself. 

“No.” 

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate. 

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth. 

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips. 

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe. 

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?” 

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it. 

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth. 

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs. 

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation. 

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“ 

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side. 

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack. 

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him. 

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt. 

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit. 

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.” 

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more. 

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with. 

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him. 

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,”  You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows. 

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours. 

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up. 

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled. 

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect. 

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?” 

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night. 

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.” 

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

[artificial-transmutations]

11:48

Martin was frustrated. It was a late Thursday morning and since some of his classes had been cancelled, he had used the opportunity to throw in an extra training at the gym.

He was really trying to bulk up some muscles and get into bodybuilding, but it was no use. His 21 year old body was thin and athletic, but didn't show any signs of bulking up. He had tried everything, like different training programs, dieting, protein shakes, even some shady hypno files he found on the net, but his muscle mass just wouldn't increase.

He sighed and was about to get dressed, when he noticed discarded piece of clothing under the locker room bench. It was a pair of gym shorts, soaked with sweat, obviously left behind by someone who had worked out before him. Curious, he took them in hand and looked at them more closely. The shorts were light gray and made of cotton-like material, but they seemed very wide, probably belonging to a very fat or very muscular man. They were smelling strongly of man sweat, which made Martin's head swim. He could only think of one thing...

He slowly pulled down his pants and underwear and then started to pull the shorts over his legs. As soon as the first leg was inside, he felt the wet fabric cling to his skin. Part of him felt disgusted by it, but another part was somehow turned on by the experience. He pulled the shorts up further, until his dick touched the wet material of the shorts. They were way too big, just hanging barely from his hips, perhaps only because they were damp and stuck to his skin. The smell was intense and mixed with his own body odor from his workout - although Martin didn't really tend to smell much.

However, it was just turning him on to wear another man's gym shorts, and so, he fished out his stiff cock through one of the leg holes of the shorts and started jerking. Intoxicated by the smell, he pumped like a mad man, his hand slick from pre and the wetness of the pair of shorts. It didn't take long until he erupted in a wide arc over the locker room bench.

Post-Nut-Clarity set in, and Martin finally felt a bit disgusted about him wearing the foreign piece of clothing. He wanted to get out of it quickly and take another shower, just to be sure.

However, as he tried to pull down the shorts, he found himself unable to. It felt stuck, like it was glued to his body. He tried again, this time with more force, but it didn't move. He pushed harder and faster, but the shorts remained firmly attached to his body. After several attempts, he gave up. Perhaps if it had dried up, it would be easier to remove.

So, Martin left the gym, still wearing the foreign shorts and quickly made his way back to his dorm and tried to calm down there. However, even after two more hours, as the shorts had dried down somewhat, he just couldn't remove them. The intense smell had infiltrated his dorm room by now, and, not thinking too clearly, Martin didn't mind the situation all that much. The shorts were comfortable enough and there was no reason to take them off just yet, right? They would come off eventually!

Thinking about it, perhaps he should just go back to the gym. He felt energetic and had nothing more to do for the day, so a quick second session certainly wouldn't hurt.

The training was nice. Martin got into a routine quickly and forgot about time. Only as it was getting dark outside, he realized he should be heading home.

However, there was still the problem with the unremovable shorts. He could take a shower with them on, but then, he would have some soaking wet gym shorts on him that he couldn't get dry very well. The other option was skipping the shower and staying sweaty.

Martin didn't like any of these options very much, but he opted for the latter one. Skipping one shower would probably not hurt too much, and tomorrow he would be able to remove the shorts, he was sure of it.

When Martin woke up the next morning, he was almost late for classes. His bed, no his whole dorm room smelled like him, but he had hardly time to do anything about that. He tugged on his shorts, but they still wouldn't move. So, Martin took his morning piss by pulling his cock through one of the leg holes. It worked, but it was hardly a permanent solution. Still, it was something he could care about this afternoon, now he had to go to class.

In his third course for the day, in the late morning, Martin suddenly felt a churn in his stomach, which rose through his throat quickly. Before Martin could do anything about it, he let loose a loud burp, right in the middle of the lecture hall. Everyone stared at him, even the professor made a short pause before droning on. God, how embarrassing! However, Martin couldn't focus on that, since all of a sudden, his body started growing. His legs and arms suddenly felt much more powerful, as muscles grew in all over them. The t-shirt he was wearing suddenly felt rather constricting and Martin could feel that his biceps were bulging under the sleeves. He looked down and saw that his shorts were way better fitting now as well, with a visible cock print in them. Apparently, his dick had grown as well. However, the worst part were his shoes. The confines of his shoes quickly grew extremely painful, and it felt like his feet were about to burst out of them at any second.

Martin quickly excused himself and ran outside, where he went ahead to peel his shoes and socks off of him. Such a relief. Now his feet could breathe freely again.

He noticed that there were several people staring at him, but he ignored them and walked away quickly towards the gym. Perhaps he'd find some answers there.

However, when he arrived, he changed into a tank top without thinking about it. He was then drawn directly to the weights, starting a workout routine almost automatically. He could see himself in the mirror. He did look impressive! Finally, he could see some progress.

Martin blinked. Was it evening already? He was sweating like crazy, and his muscles felt like they were full of pump. He briefly considered working out some more, but no, something wasn't right here. He returned to his dorm room, not even thinking about taking a shower. He needed to get back on track! This evening, he would repeat the material he missed at his courses today, and tomorrow he would buy new clothes, as his old ones didn't fit him very well now. Luckily, his classes started at noon tomorrow, which gave him plenty of time to go shopping.

The plan sounded good in theory, but it was way harder in practice. Martin tried to concentrate on his studies, but he was distracted easily. Drops of sweat from his brow dropped to his books and wiping away at his forehead only helped momentarily. He needed to remember to drink a lot, if he was still that sweaty after his workout.

To make matters worse, he was constantly aroused. His larger cock leaked precum into his gym shorts constantly, and Martin found himself struggling with the concepts he had to learn. At some point he sighed. It was no use, he needed to let off some steam. He had stroked his cock through his short subconsciously for a while now. Perhaps after release, he would be capable of concentrating better. He fished out his cock through the leg and started thrusting into his hand again. The smell of his arousal mixed with the already strong aroma in his room and brought him over the edge quickly, coming all over his books.

Martin looked at the mess and shrugged mentally. Well, he might as well hit the bed and clean that up tomorrow. No use in trying to study any more today.

The next morning came, but Martin did not think about cleaning up any mess. His bed was slightly damp from his sweat that had continued to transpire out of him during the night.

Still, Martin felt good about himself. His new body was impressive, albeit a bit sweaty. If he had some new clothes, he would look really hot with it!

He briefly considered going to the gym for a quick morning session but decided that had time until the afternoon.

Martin spent the morning shopping for clothes, and he had almost gotten everything, when the clock showed 11:48, the exact same time he put on the pair of shorts for the first time the day before yesterday. Suddenly, Martin let out a really loud burp, even worse than the one yesterday. He had thought that this had been a one-time thing, but again, his body was expanding in all directions. He could see his pecs strain the tank top he was wearing until he heard a ripping sound, as the sheer mass from his body had started ripping the seams. He quickly got out of his large new sneakers that he just bought before his feet started growing again, saving him from a new painful experience.

The new size of his feet was almost comical. Martin was sure he wouldn't find any shoes for them so easily. Looking down on him, he sighed. He looked really good, but most of the stuff he just bought wouldn't fit him anymore. For some reason, this didn't bother Martin much, however. He thought for a moment, before coming to the most obvious conclusion. He should go to the gym.

Exiting the store, he noticed the store clerk opening a window after he was out of the door, but Martin couldn't draw a connection. Finally, he arrived at the gym. He needed to work out shirtless and with bare feet, emitting his more-than-strong stink through the whole gym. He just couldn't stop sweating. Liquid ran over his body, as he was running on the treadmill, soaking the equipment he was using. He also used the weight machines, pumping iron like crazy, and soon enough, his muscles were bulging everywhere.

When he finally stopped, it was late in the night. It was not that he was tired, but he was too hungry to go on. So, Martin decided to visit a fast food restaurant to get something to eat. After ordering a dozen hamburgers, Martin started to stuff himself full. He needed the energy, that much was sure. However, as he was halfway through his meal, a waiter stepped up to him and asked him if it were too much trouble to finish his meal outside. There were other guests, as he put it, that were complaining about his strong odor.

At first, Martin was offended, but then again, as he thought about it, he was kind of proud. It was like his smell was a statement! So, he finished the second six hamburgers on his way home. His bed groaned under his weight, as he drifted to sleep happily.

Martin began the next day by going to the gym, after jerking off into his shorts. Nobody would notice the added bit of moisture anyway, as his shorts were constantly damp with sweat. He started working out early and got into a nice rhythm, until, finally, the clock hit 11:48.

A massive belch roared through the gym, as Martin got even bigger. It was getting ridiculous now. He probably would have to turn sideways to go through doors now, and scratching his back was impossible. His gym shorts were the only piece of clothing fitting him now, and there was little hope of finding shoes or other clothes that could cover his body anymore. Not that he wanted to, anyway. A dumb grin covered his square face. He just loved working on his body and showing it off to anyone strong-willed enough to brave his stench. Even though his size was the very definition of impracticality now, Martin couldn't wait for 11:48 tomorrow.

[guawowow]

Going crazy thinking about the complexities of Donatello and his relationship with his emotions in tottmnt just auuaua !!!!

Like, he's outwardly and unabashedly kind in this iteration and I'm SO here for it !!! And it doesn't diminish his ability to be snarky and witty, he still throws jabs at his brothers, but I feel like this donnie is a return to form in the sense that the center of his character, the motivation for his intelligence and penitent for creation, is kindness- more importantly, empathy.

routinely he is described as thoughtful, 'non-threatening', and usually very placid; we see mention of his temper when his computers are messed with, but he's extraordinary patient- polite, even- with the killer robot chasing him, subway security, and the deaf conductor, all while under high-pressure stress. When confronting the Mechazoids for the first time, he keeps them at a distance and straight up complements the engineering ingenuity! Same when confronting bishop in the subway! He talks enthusiastically, respectfully, with her about her system setup! His first instinct is to diffuse the situation, approach her with humility and establish common ground. Dude like even when running away from the Mechazoid he was always thinking of the people around him.. he was telling everyone to get out of the way, waited for cars to clear (his brothers just straight ran through traffic and jumped over moving carsss), tried to usher people away from train cars he was fighting in, etc. And in the narrated recaps between episodes, donnie is the first brother to consider bishops motivations in an empathetic manner, "maybe she has a tragic back story". Of course that serves as thematic foreshadowing buy he was still the first to offer the kindness of reason to bishops character, maybe there's a reason she's doing this, not just anger that she is.

Not to mention he full ass built a robot to protect his brothers and took the extra time to program in impeccable manners. just for funsies heheh. eueueu Metalhead my beloveddddd😭🙏💙💙💙💙

ALL THIS and yet still, in episode 10, donnie considers himself non-emotional. He says he's 'all left brained' and implys that he operates differently from his brothers who he considers more outwardly emotionally expressive. And yet, in the same episode, he spends a majority of it comforting wingnut. He lends his ear and speaks to her kindly even when her panic exasperates their situation, he doesn't get mad when she freaks out, he takes the time to talk things through with her and make her comfortable whenever able. Even when they think Leatherhead has unmutated, he's sad but tries to put himself in her situation and understand her actions. HES SO SWEET IT HURTS DUDE ❗️❗️❗️ main point being, I dont think he considers himself emotional because he operates on a mode of empathy that is reason driven. He's emotionally logical, of that makes sense. It shows an INSANE amount of emotional intelligence and maturity, I just don't think he understands that because to him, this is logical, and his brother are anything but.

For a majority of his life, the only other people he has to compare himself to are his brothers. When up against anxiety riddled Leonardo, chronically angry Raph, and Mikey's carefree disregard, of course he sees himself and goes, 'ah ok. I must be less emotionally prone because I don't react like they do to these situations'.

I think he just understands the whole social song and dance of understanding better than he thinks.

I know the whole thing with tottmnt is the aspect of unreliable narration, but even then! Like if Leo wrote donnie like this then it probably because he routinely displays this kind of understanding behavior. Plus idk bout yall but I kinda consider the events of tottmnt as like a blurry semi-cannon? I think there are nuggest of truth in there, the broad strokes yk? Like the flood arc referenced 'the bishop situation' like it was a thing that actually happened, albiet in passing, and not just something to poke fun at Leo. It's got legs, there's ideas there to work with ajaja

[vintagerpg]

Believe it or not, it is The Fall of Delta Green (2018) that finally got me to pay attention to Delta Green at large. Something about this cover art struck me as enticing, perhaps in the manner of a train wreck — Call of Cthulhu meets Vietnam? How are they going to pull that off?

Well, for starters, Fall isn’t Call of Cthulhu, it’s a standalone Gumshoe game (though it is compatible with both Trail of Cthulhu and Night’s Black Agents). I’m not super interested in the system, honestly, but I absolutely love the source material laid out here (and it is usable, really, with your Cthulhu game of choice). It was the operational history of Delta Green as presented here that hooked me on the larger Delta Green universe; the broad strokes of that are the same as in both the Pagan and Arc Dream DGs. What’s unique here is the particular focus on the ’60s, an era of dirty politics, dirty wars, massive social upheavals, drugs and all sorts of tomfoolery on the fringes of the counter-culture. As with the ’90s and our current era, the ’60s seem particularly rich backdrop suited to bringing out the themes of DG.

It’s also a rich moment in DG’s history. The titular fall — the unsuccessful dismantling of the program — is triggered by an unauthorized operation in Vietnam and Cambodia gone horribly wrong in late 1969, early 1970. That episode is kept vague in all histories of Delta Green, but here it takes on a vivid horror — Col. Wade Satchel is sort of a Delta Green version of Col. Walter Kurtz from Apocalypse Now. He traffics with dangerous forces and gets a lot of people killed before being assassinated by survivors of one of his doomed off-the-books operations. Marrying that film with the Cthulhu mythos makes for some truly unpleasant dreams!

[pamicakery]

˚₊‧꒰ა preparing winter arc ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

It's been a while uh? Since... September I guess. I manifested stuff like food... Basically food and 1k subscribers. Which is nice and

Thank you so much!!! 🩵🩷🩵🩷

Here is a little story. Before I made this page, I've already made many many many tumblr accounts about Loa. Nothing happened. I posted and waited for people to come. I wanted to be popular. But.. No.. I had 5 followers.. Counting myself with.

With Pamicakery, when I created that page.. I felt like my post will be viral if I can put it like this. For me, it was a great idea. No doubts it's gonna flop. I decided. Today I am here sitting with 1k people with me. 1k. I never had so much in my life but I knew. I decided, I told myself that this page is gonna grow. People will come and appreciate what I have to say.

Before the Pamicakery account, I had an Instagram page. I used to post my drawing and nothing happened. For 3 years. Even if I posted, the best I could have got was 5 likes.

I put it as a goal. I want my 100 followers. I want them and I will have them. I affirmed, for days. 3 days I affirmed. Even thought I saw that. For me that 84 will change into a 100.

And here we are 3 days later.

Your life can change In a snap of the fingers.

It's not a lie. This is what a change of mindset do to your 3d. I wasn't destined to keep my 72 followers for the rest of my life. It was a circumstance but I decided that I was above it.

And I was thinking about my appearance and I was like.. How many

2020

2021

2022

2023

2024

Are we gonna be like this? Crying over our desires, seeing summer and winter pass. How many time? Because one day, if you do nothing your Sp will be taken, your job offer will go away. How many time will your scroll on tumblr for the best advice? Are you gonna have epiphany at 60's?

Why do you keep asking '' Can I manifest this or that? ''.

You decide. It's like going in a restaurant and asking another customer if you can order this or that.

Stop seeing your life Scrolling in front of eyes. Years and years are going. We have to be strong, we have to decide and persist.

It's not that bad if you don't believe it but keep persisting in having the thought that you can do it.

Keep thinking it. It will become an assomption.

You are the General and your army follows you. If you think you will fail, you army will think that too.

You don't want to be a loser anymore, you don't want to whine about your circumstances. So do i.

We have only one 2024 in all the history of humanity and you are wasting this. So get up, and train your mind to success, Saturate it with your achievement, be happy because you will succeed, Program your brain to success. Affirm, visualise. The success must be running 24/24 in your mind.

Get up early, if it's hard? Go harder! But never stop, decide. Don't let the 3d making fun of you anymore. If you think it's to hard, you are weak, the 3d will not sugar coat you.

Be stronger, be unstoppable. Shout in your 4d, Roar in your mind, and keep going! Keep going and keep going and keep going. Take 5 minutes and repeat that you will succeed, go to your mind to seek for evidence, persist and never give up.

One day there will be no more 3 days, or a week, or tomorrow. Decide to change today, right now.

-choose.

-see it as a goal.

-The image of your success should be your 4d wallpaper.

-Affirm and Condition Your Brain for Success

-Persist and know that it will change.

-make internal conversation.

-Repeat the thought of you being good at manifesting

LET'S DO THIS WINTER ARC AS MASTERS MANIFESTER.

(I just came here to say that, but then.. I'll put myself in the state of a conqueror, a warrior and a master Manifester. 🐎)

[blindmagdalena]

If A-Train was able to get a redemption arc, I don’t see why Homie couldn’t get one (I know he won’t). It’s just so annoying to me when people say Homie is irredeemable. I mean of all the villains of the show, he actually has a reason to be one based on what Vought did to him as a child and then as an adult. Like duh. What did they think would happen?? A-Train on the other hand, didn’t really have a reason to be a villain. He grew up with a loving family. He just turned out to be an asshole but gets a redemption arc. I just really want justice for Homie but it’ll never happen in canon. Thank goodness for fanfic and all the wonderful work you do!!!

so, i feel like there's a fundamental misunderstanding of the redemption arc here. the real reason Homelander is "irredeemable" is because he doesn't seek redemption. he has neither the moral capacity nor the desire.

redemption arcs aren't about who has the saddest backstory or who's more "justified" in their villainy. they're about people who feel genuine remorse for their actions and make the choice to do better. to atone.

Homelander doesn't believe he's in the wrong. he fully believes that he is justified in everything he does, and everyone he hurts. unless that CORE truth of his character changes, no, he cannot have a redemption arc.

A-Train, on the other end, is a perfect example of a well-executed redemption arc. he was absolutely NOT an asshole for no reason. sure, he wasn't raised in a lab, but his life was still FULL of abuse and exploitation. from the moment he was born, his parents pumped him full of an experimental drug. his father died when he was still a baby, and his mother worked two jobs while his young brother raised him. kids can't raise kids. his situation was tragic. i mean, for god's sake, his powers developed when he was a three year old (!!!!!!!!!!) because he was running away from the bullets of a deadly shooting towards his home.

so from the age of three, he became the breadwinner for his family. he was trained and likely performed in all kinds of ways. there's no way he didn't with how poor his family was. once he was old enough, he got picked up into Vought's programming and continued to endure god knows what kind of abuse from them. we know for a FACT that every child star of Vought ends up miserable and ruined in some way from the shit they're put through.

remember why he fell in love with Popclaw? "Here's someone who isn't afraid to be happy."

that's heartbreaking. he worked his ass off his entire life and didn't even know how to be happy because of it. even when he went to GodU, Brink commented that he was "the most driven kid he trained." because he had no choice! he was the one supporting his family out of poverty.

i'm not saying A-Train is perfect. i'm not even saying he wasn't an asshole. he was! but to claim he had no reason to turn out the way he did isn't fair. he did a lot of shitty things, he turned to drugs when his powers started to fail him, and he accidentally killed a woman because he was blitzed out of his mind on V... doing a drug run for Homelander. he's then forced by Homelander to kill the woman he loves. he did a cowardly, vile thing, and he has expressed nothing but anguish over it ever since.

but like... in the grand scheme of things, was he really that bad? he spirals and struggles. he gets mocked, he tries desperately to find his identity. the fact his brother shames him for not being connected to a community he was unplugged from because he was shunted into fame and exploitation at a young age sucks.

Reggie, that sweet little boy, was failed in every conceivable way and he became a dysfunctional adult that did shitty stuff because of it. now he's gained perspective and he's working to make different choices. i've been hugely invested in his arc because it's GOOD character work.

so while i appreciate and agree with the sentiment and wanting better for Homelander, redemption comes to those who seek it. so far, we have not seen any indication Homelander ever will. maybe he'll pull a Darth Vader moment at the eleventh hour for Ryan's sake, who knows!

either way, on his own merit, A-Train deserves the chance to be and do better.

[j-jared]

hello!!! i just stumbled across your resurgence au (i think that's the name lol) and it looks super cool!!!! :OOO may i ask what is maki's whole deal,,,i love her a lot :3

It's Maki time!

So in Resurgence, like the rest of the V3 cast, Maki is saved from the simulation by Future Foundation. I've touched on this in a few older posts, but their recovery took place in a hastily thrown together field base/hospital in a city that's still pretty deep in despair. It was a matter of not being able to get transport in for everyone right away - they had a set date for the helicopters to come for them all.

By unfortunate coincidence (coincidence, huh) - the day the helicopters come, the hospital is bombed by a Despair mob. They weren't so happy with their show being cancelled by stupid teenagers (THH was streamed to the world, then despair audiences kinda gutted and reverse engineered the Neo World Program after the Remnants were restored to their og personalities, I'd say it's probably because of the brainwashed Future Foundation members that it got out to the world - so yeah "Danganronpa" is a "TV" show in that regard, but its not how the V3 ending explains it)

Maki was in a separate wing from most of the others when the bombs went off, and her escape route ended up on the side where the mob was gathered (a lot of the others got around the mob by going out other exits) - So Maki has to fight her way to safety, and unfortunately, she misses out on the helicopter evacuation.

Now, Maki can take care of herself. She might not be Ultimate Apocalypse Survivor, but she has the training to patch wounds, adapt to harsh conditions, and defend herself. So she's doing about as fine as one can in a city that's basically an active war zone.

Then Kaede shows up.

Honestly, I'm not sure why I chose Kaede, I really wanna explore that dynamic but haven't gotten around to it yet - I think their personalities would blend and butt against each other in a situation like this, it's like a hardcore setting for the killing game with no rules. Kaede was with Future Foundation as a field agent, but her squad got separated during an attack (they were probably looking for the missing V3 cast) - Funnily enough Kaito, Tenko, and Shuichi were on that squad so - yikes on missing them.

So now it's Maki and Kaede vs the world!

Until Kaede's radio starts unscrambling itself and picking up Future Foundation communications again - but they can't reply it seems. The signal seems to fade in and out each time they leave this district, maybe they should investigate, right?

... Oh hi Kokichi and Kiibo!

---

That's about as far as I've gotten in the general aspect of Maki's arc! I could go into detail about points up until now, but this post is already getting long on me. There will be bonding, there will be old scores to settle, there will be... forgiveness? Well, it's too early to say. I think the four of them are an interesting squad to shove into the apocalypse together, especially knowing the later game dynamics of Kokichi, Kiibo, and Maki, and me basically having to figure out Kaede and if the blank slate of her not being around for most of V3 is something that helps them all get along or complete ruins the dynamic at moments.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

Manami Aiba/ La Brava AU Concept

Manami Aiba was alone… She had been for a long time, born small and stunted little had been expected of her. Though despite that, her intellect was not to be shrugged off, her skills less so. She had what it took to be someone great, Atlas had made her multiple offers when she was still in middle school and up until she dropped out of high school all those years ago…

So why had she… Love, love was a powerful, but cruel force for Aiba, it drove the young and older, experienced and naïve alike to do foolish things. She was no different, she fell in love, he wasn’t anyone special, not really, but to her that boy had been the world. She could hardly remember what it was that drew her to him anymore.

She had wanted to know him to be closer to the person that made her heart beat so fast, that lit her soul with joy and desire. She’d followed him, learned about him… Stalked him, she was young, naïve… Dumb. Of course he would notice, and unfortunately for her, he would not view it positively.

Creepy, freak, midget psycho, those were a few word he tossed out, and then those became her titles to the entire student body… People avoided her, and in turn she begun to avoid them in kind.

She denied her scholarships, she pushed away teachers, her parents and anyone, everyone else. Eventually she left it all behind, leaving Mistral to go to Vale, but nothing truly changed, every time she was outside, she felt people stare, heard them call her names…

She didn’t want anything to do with people anymore, after all, the rejection had crushed her, not simply because it broke her heart, not because it ostracized her… But because it denied her very soul, her semblance, she had aura, her parents opting to awaken it when her dwarfism had been identified, hoping aura would help her growth which given her more capable state it had.

But with it came the manifestation of her soul, Love, the power to amplify every facet of a individual’s capabilities, the sole limits being that she can only activate it once and that the only person she can use it on is the one she loves….

Could it be blamed for her powerful emotions, for her need to know the person she felt love for, did she stalk and obsess over that boy because of her semblance, or did she use her semblance as a excuse to do so. Was she sane, or desperate, pathetic or pitiful. She didn’t know, she didn’t want to know, because she refused to fall in love again.

So she avoided it, avoided the world, the outside whenever and however she could.

She used her talents to secure a stable living. She was a hacker like no others, able to break through any firewall, or program to secure what she needed.

She sold info, to the highest bidder, made false documents, traded information for favors. The Xiong proved a valuable client. That was how she secured her life, as a cyber sleuth, a hacker with the alias, LA BRAVA.

And that was how she lived her life, alone, there was no Gentle Criminal in Remnant who became her light in the dark. Nobody would come and pull her from her loneliness, she would live this way forever, committing cyber crimes to survive and sustain her isolation…

Junior then contacted her with a request, to falsify some Transcripts into Beacon, she may have been criminal, but Manami was not without morals. She wouldn’t just pave the way for anyone to access Huntsman level training. It was such a person who had done so for the Branwen twin several decades ago and even Mistral still suffered under the hands of the bandit queen.

So she requested info on the individual, she would commit her own background check on them, and then decide.

His name, was Jaune Arc and he was… Handsome. He was from a village outside the kingdom, there were few records past his birth certificate. Not nearly enough, her heart beat with every picture of him she saw. She requested more information, Junior didn’t have much, so she dug deeper, found out where he was living at the time. It was just for her to decide…

She… She left her home, her small apartment, the Arcs weren’t to renowned but to those in the know they were taught the familiar were as honorable as they came, knights outta fairytales. So why was her here, asking to fake his way into Beacon, she had to know.

She almost was able to ignore the stares on her, the pit in her stomach being in public caused, she felt dizzy, she wanted, no needed to go bac-

“Are you okay?”

And then by sheer coincidence she met him, Jaune Arc kneeled before her, a worried look on his face. Things happened rather fast, she found herself walking beside her target, the boy so friendly, so open to talk to her. Not making a huge issue of her form, of her condition, but also not ignoring it.

He slowed to walk with her, but never once drew attention to her size, and when someone not noticing her bumped into her he defended her. Made them apologize… When asked why he approached her, it wasn’t a painful excuse or cruel misunderstanding like that he thought she was a lost child or that he wanted to ask directions.

“You looked sad, so I figured I’d try to see if I could fix that.” He smiled, it was bright, kind and inviting.

“After all, if I wanna be a Huntsman I should be able to at least cheer up a pretty girl right?” Her cheeks flushed, her chest tightened as he went on with his silly simple but honest words.

That time couldn’t have lasted though, people approached her, junior’s men, they didn’t recognize her, couldn’t have, they’d never met in person after all. Everyone back away as they did, it made sense, junior liked to be in the know, and she was a new face he’d never seen.

Despite how it looked everything should’ve been okay, would’ve been okay, but Jaune didn’t know that, and stepped between.

He wasn’t skilled, not huntsman level at least, but he was strong, she was sure he could kill grimm, even without aura. It shocked her seeing that, seeing him bleed, but he stood tall and strong, defending her until police showed up. But she could see it, the despair in his face, he must’ve realized they were Hei’s men. That he’d thrown away his chance to go to Beacon…

Or so he thought, but she thought different, because despite all that he prioritized her, his friend, one he said didn’t matter that he just met because.

“Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet.” She’d said it on reflex.

“Love you…” If he hadn’t burst into a dazzlingly, blinding white light he might’ve heard her instead of freaking out. She had to explain what Aura was to him, what it meant, and then convince him to not give up… She, she might’ve told him he shouldn’t sleep at his hotel, that Junior’s men might try to hurt him. They wouldn’t, not so soon, but he didn’t need to know that.

He hadn’t cared until he thought they might go after her… She, used that to have him stay with her, to keep him in Vale. Hacking Beacon was easy, falsifying transcripts easier, they looked more legitimate then the actual ones. Jaune, her friend would be a Huntsman, she’d make sure of it.

Several weeks he stayed with her, cooked for her, and spent time with her, they talked, they grew close, he, he was so amazing, so nice and kind… And hot, he was beefy under his hoodie, like a actual farmboy.

But it all had to come to a end, he thanked her, and promised to visit, to call and made her promise to do the same.

And then he left, but she wasn’t done, hacking Beacon’s security cameras she watched their Initiation saw him partner with a celebrity, a tall, leggy celebrity, but even then he talked about her. About his best friend in Vale, which made his best friend in Beacon, Ruby Rose Jealous.

Then the Grimm attacked, he charged a giant Death Stalker, and her heart froze in fear, she didn’t hesitate, knowing it’d activate.

“I Love You!” She said it with desperation, and even so far away it activated, and the world exploded with bright pink light as Jaune was amplified by her semblance. Moving faster then the Rose Girl, hitting stronger then the blonde, red-eyed bimbo or the ginger hammer wielder. He was confused but not still, determined to act.

Every swing of his blade tearing trough he thick armor and flesh of the Death Stalker alike it’s claws, tail and then legs before he cleaved it in twain. And then… He jumped into the air, not thinking for his safety, or about what he’d do if the power disappeared.

Only about killing the second Grimm, tackling into the giant Nevermore and shooting straight through it. He fell hard but survived given his already immense aura being multiplied several dozen fold.

And it was over, and he called a hour later, people celebrating behind him as he told her the good news, unaware she’d seen it all. The only misunderstanding being that he thought her power was his semblance. He thanked her for unlocking his soul and promised he’d visit her that weekend.

Only for someone to visit her only a hour later, someone she knew, but solely by reputation, the man in charge of Jaune’s fate. The headmaster of Beacon academy, something about having a good grasp of detecting Aura and it’s sources… Then pointing out how while Jaune’s transcripts were flawless, his history was not.

She expected her life to be over but instead.

“Manami Aiba, I believe Beacon could use someone of your particular set of skills, how would you feel about assisting our Stealth and Security Professor Ann Greene? You are around the age of a fourth year. I’m sure we can… Work something out.”

I think their ship name should be 'Amour' (French for Love)

[bowtieengineering]

Generator Management- Bowtie Engineering

Bowtie Engineering is a company that specializes in generator management. This involves the design, installation, and maintenance of generator systems for various applications, such as emergency power, backup power, or continuous power for critical systems. Bowtie Engineering provides solutions for clients in a range of industries, including healthcare, data centers, commercial facilities, and government organizations. They offer a range of services, including system design, project management, commissioning, maintenance, and technical support.

[melonteee]

Zoro’s “she’s a woman” is also very funny to me, but after re-reading Skypeia I *think* I understand the vision behind it, even if the execution might’ve been clumsy.

Back in Jaya when Robin and Zoro are searching for the South Bird, there’s a brief scene where Robin criticizes Zoro for indiscriminately cutting down random critters, to which Zoro retorts that it’s the critters’ fault for getting in his way before reiterating his distrust for her. Despite this distrust, however, Zoro does seem to take Robin’s criticisms to heart as he stops uses the bladed end of his sword on critters in Jaya and mostly avoids using his swords on animals in Skypeia.

Which also creates an interesting parallel to Enel, who shares a very similar opinion to the one Zoro held in Jaya. Hell, some translations of Zoro’s response to Robin have it along the lines of “it’s their fault for challenging me” which is almost verbatim what Enel says in the arc about his “lambs.” And despite Enel insisting that he is an Equal Opportunity Vengeful God, there are scenes before the ones with Robin where Enel’s treatment of women is framed as predatory, in a way that also parallels how the Celestial Dragons are portrayed as treating women later, which also colors the way that Enel specifically attacks Robin also being predatory and motivated by misogyny. So I *think* Oda’s intent for Zoro was seeing his past attitude in Jaya reflected back at him and ultimately realizing that just because you can do something doesn’t mean that you *should* while also using the scene to comment on how god complex’s are often used as covers for bigotry.

But, even so, Zoro’s line is a clumsy summary if that’s the case. The Doylist explanation is that Oda has always struggled when it comes to threading the needle that is “how to convey female fighters are as strong and capable as the male fighters without also inadvertently endorsing real life gender-based violence” and sometimes this results in clumsy lines like Zoro’s. But my personal Watsonian head-canon is that the Plinko Horse in Zoro’s brain didn’t fire up fast enough to coherently summarize 45 chapters of character development, which results in him spitting out what sounds like a complete non-sequitur.

I respect this but my interpretation of it was Zoro does have an internalised misogyny, which is proven to us in Punk Hazard. He admits he doesn't like to nor wants to fight women to Tashigi, and Monet backs him against a wall because of it. He thinks it's dishonourable to target women as a man, and considering his dojo dad was from Wano, and he was raised with Wano ideals, AND he was raised in an all male dojo, it makes tons of sense.

I know a lot of people are confused about this because of Kuina, but his mentor said TO HIS FACE "I am a woman, you are a man. You will be stronger than me." How in the world would Zoro, at his baby age, not internalise that in some twisted way? Especially coming from the person he looked up to. It feels like it's commentary on the fact misogyny is taught, it's not just a natural born thing, and it ruins ones own perception of self and lives around them.

Zoro was quite literally raised in a male dominated space, where ONLY men were trained and told they were the strongest - it has been programmed into him. The thing is, this is written to be a NEGATIVE thing. This isn't me pointing at Zoro and calling him a piece of shit, this is me saying it's a FLAW Zoro has, and it's clearly one he must get over. The strongest swordsman in the world can literally not afford to look down on women as weaker, because I HIGHLY doubt Mihawk does that. Tashigi calls him out for it, and it's very obvious this is an internalised issue Zoro doesn't LIKE that he has.

Why in the world would Oda make Wano openly sexist towards its women, refusing to let them fight, and THEN reveal Kuina's family is quite literally FROM this country - hence WHY Kuina's dad was so insanely sexist. Of course this is going to become commentary on Zoro having to overcome taught beliefs, especially considering Zoro is one of the few Strawhats who has never actually fought a woman. Not only did he not actually touch nor fight Monet (he just scared the shit out of her), but he also took zero shots at Big Mum on the rooftop lmao. He fought her homies but not her, physically - not even once. There's clearly something going on there, and it's Zoro (and Sanji) specific, cause literally NO other male strawhat has a problem fighting women or seeing women on the battlefield (once again, apart from Sanji, and that's possibly a parallel).

I say that last part because yes Oda has sexism in his writing, but every time I hear Zoro's 'woman' line is just Oda being Oda, I want to tear my hair out. Otherwise EVERY male character would act like Zoro towards women, and they quite literally do not LMAO

I don't know why this is the hot take it seems to be, because I LOVE Zoro, but it's clear there's something going on with him in regards to internal prejudice. I think it's because, as a Sanji fan, there's an irony to saying all this lmao. But of course, I do not mean for any of this to be negative, because I am excited to see if this side of Zoro actually gets explored. Ie Zoro defeats misogyny and sexism HAHA