#i don’t know what indicated that i would accept this tbh

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

HELLO can I ask for sol,hyugo and geo with a mc that is obsessed with it's own appearance, like having a strict diet, body and skin care religiously and wearing uncomfortable clothes like corsets just to be pretty.

Sorry if it's too long, love you writing ����💕

ENSNARED

This is the second oldest request I have in my inbox, hope this fulfilled your expectations, Anon! Thank you so much for choosing me to write this for you. <3

TW: There are themes involved with hating your body, as well as depriving it of food, sleep, etc. to feel attractive.

You all have traits that make you worthy. Remember that.

-- Signed solemnly by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer AKA Sky Fort(resse)s and Burning Citadels

To commence this: Sol is a very insecure man. He may not appear it, nor act it, but deep in that depraved mind of his - looks are crucial to him. He has standards, of course. He dresses the way he wants, wears whatever makeup he wants, but he still ensures he looks ‘pretty’. Especially for you, he’s willing to ditch all his values and morals for you, just say the word. In short, he understands the urge to appear perfect or have glass skin or to be the most fashionable.

He’s always found you beautiful, to be fair everyone does (they’re not worth your time, he thinks), but you’re ethereal in his eyes. Always was, always will be.

You are by far one of the most fashionable people in all of your classes: your hair is pinned and styled, your clothes scream wealth and expense, your perfumes and cosmetics are a compliment to your features and by God your outfits fit your figure so well. You’re a model, essentially. People state you’ve been stopped on the streets by alleged modelling agencies.

You didn’t trust them enough to accept, however. As you should’ve, this city is dodgy and shady in more ways than Sol has jacked off to you - and that’s a massive achievement tbh.

On the surface, you appear unfazed by the envious looks of passer-bys, confident and composed in your own skin. However - like he knew suspected - as he got to know you, he recognised all the signs, all the subtle cues that indicated just how ‘perfect’ you had to look. How obsessed you were about your appearance, often losing sleep and forcing yourself to avoid food just to feel like you were becoming more ‘beautiful’.

You both should watch The Substance let’s be ffr, that movie perfectly explains what it’s like to be you. (sidenote: the movie’s fine but honestly it went way off the rails halfway through - just my opinion though)

He would often compliment you, and you would smile and thank him. Deep down, however (which he eventually realised and panicked about) was the intrusive, all-consuming thought: He likes this version of me, he could never like the real me, I’m too fake for someone as authentic as him. And then you go even deeper into that cycle.

In terms of romance, it’ll probably stem from a moment of rage or frustration, mostly on your part. You’re so tired or maintaining, editing, fixing yourself every fucking day that you lose it. Fully fucking lose it. You tear at your hair, pull at your skin, smear your makeup and just sob in the shower.

You don’t go to school that day, by then Sol and you (and Hyugo!) were friends for a while, and he was nervous when you weren’t around that day. They both texted you, with little response if any at all. So he brings your favourite snacks (he knows you don’t eat sugar so he brought dried fruits instead). 

What goes down is a mix of you being comforted, him relating to you, both of you opening up, maybe sleeping ontop of each other (look you’re tired okay). 

Obviously it’s a lot more violent and volatile than just that, but you’re in deep. You’ve been stuck in this cycle for years, it’ll take a lot to start pulling you out.

So you guys agree to pull each other out together.

Him (and Hyugo) both value their own appearances, but their aim is to convince you to dress well for YOURSELF, not anyone else.

When you and Sol are dating, you’re still very vain and worried about how you look, but the urge isn’t as potent, more as a source of comfort than anything else - or so you say. Sol definitely makes you eat and sleep more though, and to an extent (hint: a huge one), you feel a lot lighter. A lot saner and a touch happier.

You’re both pulling each other out together, and Sol often displays his love for you (and your body) through significantly more than just validation…

Mans definitely hugs and holds you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear about how worthy of love and affection you truly are.

Maybe one day you’ll grow to tell such kind things to yourself.

“You look gorgeous, pumpkin. Heh, who am I kidding, you always do.”

“Nothing makes me happier than seeing you at ease and content, darling.”

“I love all of you, always have, always will.”

Hyugo is a raging fan of hot and cool women (shh dw he thinks hot men are epic too); he absolutely loves them, he thinks they’re awesome. He’s someone who can definitely appreciate a person who caters to themselves and generally hold themselves in high regard; and from the looks of it…you seem to be both of those things. After all, you’re considered a beauty by most if not all of the school (and some faculty members but that’s for him to use as blackmail in the future).

He 110% does consider you appealing at first glance, you’re put together, composed, sure of yourself. In short: confident. He likes that trait, the ability to see yourself highly and to deflect any hits that are tossed your way.

He originally doesn’t see it as much more than that, a small acknowledgement of ‘that person’s cool’…until that day on the rooftop.

Then it turns into something a touch more…intimate? I mean, violence is an intimate thing, in certain contexts. It’s just not a type people would want to find themselves in…heh, well, normal people at least.

After him and Sol acquaint themselves with you well enough, he begins to perceive cracks in this facade of yours - Hyugo has a very highly-tuned sixth sense (canon idfc this is something he has to have with the shit he gets up to) - and gets curious.

You seem like a nice person, a good person even, but there’s something *off*. He tries to think about it, tries to put his finger on what he suspects you conceal from the world. So, like the magnificent detective he is, he decides he’s going to investigate and through his many contacts he discovers you’re extremely vain and self-regulatory about your physical appearance.

He doesn’t think that’s the cause at first, until he gets to know you better and it hits him just how willing you are to damage yourself just to fit the standards of the year, if not month. He notices how trendy you are, how you always seem to have the newest bags, clothes, makeup, shoes, etc. 

He does some digging, in his spare time (only due to intrigue, totally out of curiosity and nothing else) and finds that you’re in a very deep debt. Mainly from your obscene amounts of fashion-esqe purchases. That’s when he fully realised how bad this compulsion of yours is.

During your friendship, he starts gingerly bringing up things about trends, usually starting from his end - video games - and you end up mentioning fashion and clothes.

Then he picks up on how gaunt you look, even under the contouring and makeup, his bony your hands are, how frail you seem to be.

He’s contemplating kidnapping you at this point, and eventually he bites the bullet and just bluntly asks you why you’re starving yourself. You become highly defensive, immediately shutting down the conversation.

Soon enough he becomes more forward with his prior gestures of offering food, being a touch insistent you eat. You look like you’ll collapse at any second, and he has to fully resist his urge to force-feed you - mostly to remain on good terms with you - until you actually collapse.

Most people are shocked, but the more perceptive ones aren’t remotely surprised how bad it got. You had a conviction that beauty was everything, and you were stubborn as they come.

It’s when you’re finally allowed out of the hospital that the two of you get into an actual argument. He’s upset that you’re willing to die in pursuit of something entirely subjective and you’re angry he thinks he has the right to boss you around.

Soon enough it explodes, and he blurts out his feelings, freaks out, and storms off; deciding to end it there before he reveals anything else.

You, on the other hand, are shooketh.

Con? Fuzzled.

Bam? Boozled.

Flabber? Gasted.

Eventually, you start to see things from his perspective, from other peoples’ perspectives and you feel depressed all over again. You fucked up. You failed to maintain perfection. It’s the imperfections that made this happen.

Obviously you know it’s not true, logically there’s no way it is. But you’ve not cared about logistics for a long fucking time.

You find him soon enough and you both talk, actually talk. Something something feelings and hurt and comfort something something let’s date.

Hyugo has plenty of his own secrets, as do you, but despite it all? You both know the other would never leave, because…you just feel it. Some small hopeful part of you feels safe with this partner…and soon so do both of you.

He’s a very supportive partner, he even helps you get out of debt ffs, he’s willing to do a lot to help you. Often compliments or expresses affection whenever he sees you, especially if you’ve eaten or he knows you’ve been taking care of yourself. Encourages you to list good traits of yourself, or to do something that involves not thinking, like crocheting. Or shooting. Or cooking. Stuff that grounds you. Whether you take any of those on is up to you, but he’s a caring person, and despite the shit he’s done he does want you to be and feel better. Sometime later on, you feel a sliver of that light return to the pit of hollow self-loathing and the world feels a touch less grey.

“Hey! How’re you feeling? Awesome, hey uh, wanna go out today? Just us two, no pressure. :)”

“As a certified sexy person I wish to remind you that you look very sexy this fine day.” 😔🫡😈 (this is said very solemnly mind you)

“You smell nice...” *subtly inhales*

To summarise this entire extract, Geo has his own insecurities - but they’re significantly more repressed than any other member of the main cast (Hyugo being a close second imo). He can empathise with the desire to feel content with ones’ own appearance, not that he’d ever state it.

He’s someone who does value fashion - cosmetics in particular, he definitely wears eyeliner and lipstick- and the art of taking care of yourself and your wellbeing, but he never felt the urge to destroy himself in the pursuit of beauty like you do. 

He considers Crowe one of his ‘close’ friends and considering how highly Crowe views you, he’s got some tidbits of info on you, like how you’re incredibly self conscious. He found that odd, because from whatever times he may or may not’ve seen you around, you emanated self-assuredness - if not cockiness - alongside your particularly fancy way of dress.

He can admit, he was a touch impressed with how dedicated you were to maintain yourself, until he began noticing small things in your stature and general nature. He doesn’t know why he observed such minute details, but whenever you hung out with the group, you seemed a touch out of it. A bit depressed, especially when someone complimented you - like Brittney or Jess.

He was somewhat certain you were fishing for compliments, until he realised that he doesn’t trust compliments either, so he somewhat erases that thought of you.

He does end up liking you after a long time, for your personality - we all hope (it is dw) - but he does notice how you alter your outfit style and makeup to something more conventionally appealing in Japan (idk man someone out there’s definitely done this to impress a crush), or just noticed how if you realise he likes something, especially in terms of physicality (it’s not for attraction it’s for the ✨aesthetic✨) you end up adopting said traits.

He eventually does recognise (probably because someone pointed it out, like Deryl - bless his heart he had no bad intentions) that you are doing this to impress him.

He’s not impressed, if anything, he feels a tad peeved. To him, actions like that indicate desperation, and he does not want to be surrounded by desperate people (he’s got too many simps and he doesn’t need anymore)…but you’re not a shallow person, he feels that.

Unfortunately he has fuck all idea on how to actually bring this up, so he doesn’t.

In fact the only way you stop is when he makes a snarky remark about it (he didn’t mean to come off as an asshole he swears) and you just look…melancholic.

In your eyes, you’ve learnt that beauty and appearance is what gets you people, and it’s worked so well before…so why isn’t it working now. You don’t want to seduce or trick anyone, but you want to be seen as pretty. Beautiful, even.

Geo’s indirect rejection of this made that void in your heart - that one that convinced you long ago how shallow and unworthy you genuinely are - swell and pulse. It stung.

That, along with the magnitude of invalidating, cruel thoughts sent you into a spiral. You let yourself go, and you let yourself drown.

And everyone noticed, when you marched into school after a couple days with makeup messily caked onto your face, your hair done in a way that tore at your scalp and hair strands and your outfit so tight that you had to move like a machine just to get around. The desire grew stronger, grew in intensity and you were losing it.

Geo does not understand until Brittney realises it that he may or may not have been a catalyst for this. He has no clue how to deal with this, like he’s so stumped that he has an argument with ChatGPT.

Soon enough, he decides to just try and interact with you and pray this doesn’t end up in flames.

Something something awkward confession something something angst and hurt comfort something something eventually romance starts.

Anyway in terms of romantic relations, he’s unsupportive of these inhumane rituals you’ve been doing on yourself, so he makes you cease.

He doesn’t want to be nasty about it he just thinks it’s stupid and doesn’t want you to suffer anymore. He does care for you.

Will drop random words of validation every month or so, and you cling onto those words, because they’re genuine. They’re authentic, and you grow to feel more comfortable in receiving them, and, most importantly: giving them to yourself and accepting them. Bit by bit.

“You look nice. This suits you.”

“You’ve eaten, I hope?”

“You look healthier. Keep it that way..”

Banger women and banger tits: two things that Brittney Claire has in spades and also highly appreciates (mantits also count dwdw). She’s someone who values appearance as well, often putting in insane amounts of time for her hair snd skincare alone (Geode quivered in fear when he heard the number). She’s also someone who’s experienced her fair share of dark times and loneliness, so she definitely understands what it feels like to need to feel attractive, to feel wanted and needed, even if it’s ingenuine. 

She’s someone who - like you - displays confidence and self-assurance, especially in the face of people she holds disdain and even resentment towards. Someone who understands the empty feeling that comes with years of self-loathing and the undying belief that you’ll never be worth anything if you’re not beautiful. What worth does someone - especially a woman - have if she’s not beautiful?

Looking back, from the perspective of someone with a much healthier support system and overall mindset, she knows she has worth, knows she’s awesome and has good qualities…but some days those feelings return. So she gets it. 

Frankly, the first time she meets - hell, even sees - you, she instantly knows. How could she not, she used to be similar to you. Trendiest outfits, being the circle of attention, knowing all the news and rumours and pop culture references (she still knows them, just refuses to change herself for them). She believes she only genuinely stopped trying to fit in when she discovered Gyaru fashion, almost slipped back into it when she got humiliated that one time, and crawled back out when she had Jess and Crowe (and to a minor extent, Geo) for support.

She knows you don’t have genuine friends, or ones that possess depth; so she decides to try and get to know you through shared classes.

You originally somewhat ignore her (totally not due to your envy of her being able to be herself no never), which tempts her to give up, but she’s a spiteful lady sometimes. Spite is a very good motivator.

Eventually, you both end up talking and the more comfy you become, the more she realises how similar you both were and still are. She decides to introduce you to her friend group, to which you reluctantly agree (due to the rumours) and you’re pretty well-received. 

Brittney does eventually start opening up to you, and you do as well - bonding over your shared experienced and values - her offering an olive branch if you want support, to which you agree…but never take up.

Hell, soon enough you grow distant again, and oddly enough she’s peeved. She doesn’t get why, well…she does, but you seem to mostly avoid her specifically. Did she appear fake to you? Did you think she wanted to harm you?

Maybe, honestly. She had - still has - that same mindset to an extent. That jaded outlook on reading peoples’ angles and intentions.

When she eventually confronts you, you both escalate it to a fight, mostly because she’s genuinely trying to help - despite having the communication skills of a tortoise in water - while you’re being hyperdefensive over yourself and your habits of extremist beauty obsession.

You confess you’re jealous of her. Highly jealous, the fact she has genuine friends, that she can fit in, be herself, etc. You apologise for being such a bitch, but it hurts you deeply.

She eventually relents and calms down, before you both start a proper friendship. You two and Jess are a banger trio, often going shopping together, going to cafes or simply talking. A group of support and trust, one that’s rare in a place like Titan City.

It’s then you two begin to develop feelings, and eventually things happen and you two get together.

She’s gonna be protective of you, you both defend the other from rumours and shitty people and serve as pillars for the other when they’re feeling low. You guys empathise with one another in ways many others simply cannot - and that’s a bond neither of you are willing to squander.

You guys definitely do each others’ hair and makeup and nails btw.

“You look…pretty! Pretty…uh…yeah. Very pretty.”

“Ugh, times are hard for hot people like us, right? Jessie Sitrus agree with me this instant!!” 🗣🗣

“I get it, but hey! It gets better, trust me. I’d know. And we’ve got each other, right?”

[beneathashadytree]

Yeah… if all you ever do is rudely complain about the character we’re hyped up for and enjoying, and saying that you “can’t believe people actually like this shit,” best believe I’ll have you blocked ASAP🙏🏽 Daily reminder that I’m strictly OT4 guys, and will never want to expose myself to shit-talking about my four beloveds, and that I despise bullying and hate in fandoms 😁

[tanobatcher]

moonlight

wolffe x jedi fem reader

summary: you’re a jedi with a budding attraction toward commander wolffe of the 104th battalion. even though both of you know that crossing any professional boundaries is simply off-limits, tensions arise when you find him with an injury after a long mission in the outer rim.

warnings: not a lot just wolffe’s back muscles.

a/n: tbh i don’t really like this and i wrote it instead of updating my fics on ao3 omg lock me up please. but i’ve been meaning to post a wolffe one shot for a while now so...yes. thanks.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Space is terribly, inevitably cold. The soft layers of your robes do little to remedy any warmth along the goosebumps that prickle your skin, leaving your body slightly trembling no matter how closely you stand beside the heating outlet. This current state of being is not obvious to the naked eye, but you feel every excruciating second that passes as your fleet drives deeper into hyperspace. On route to Coruscant, you can only hope that the hour disappears faster than expected. The sooner you get off this desolate venator, the less likely you are to lose your frozen fingers. Still, even with how stiff and tingly your exposed skin feels, you’re grateful that you aren’t out there. Realizing this is as safe and sound as you’re going to get, you tuck your hands into your robes and venture through the halls in hopes of finding something to remedy the frigid temperature.

Everything falls to a calm silence as soon as you leave the bridge where most of the chatter and energy can be found aboard this massive ship. The corridors are quiet, only echoing your footsteps until you reach a storage closet a few doors down from the infirmary. You can hear some faint conversations coming from there, muffled through walls and permeating grief. After all, more death than life can be felt after what happened earlier today. There is nothing new about loss, which is merely categorized as casualties in those boring mission reports, but there is also nothing acceptable about it either. Trying to relax your mind with your master’s emphasized teachings, you release an absentminded exhale that loosens your chest before stepping into the closet. Maybe some heating pads or gloves will do…if you can find any.

You lose track of time in the following minutes before the door suddenly slides open behind you with a brisk whooshing sound that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. It isn’t the unexpected intrusion that provokes this reaction, though. It’s the person standing in the corridor, whose presence you recognize before you turn around to look at him. You sense his terse, rigid iciness that somehow warms your skin and accelerates your heartbeat. But when you glance over your shoulder, all that you reveal is a friendly smile you don’t expect him to reciprocate.

“Hey,” you speak first, “Are you looking for something?”

Wolffe’s body is unmoving at this question, not allowing him to take any step into the closet. But he also hasn’t walked away yet, which indicates his current consideration of what to do next. If there’s anything you know about him from fighting this war together, it’s that he’s a deep thinker. The only times he really opens his mouth to say something is when he’s dishing out an order or an insult. And yet, you’ve grown to trust him. Admire him, even. This is certainly not a bridge to cross any further, though. The Council would be terribly disappointed in your inability to control your feelings before they become attachments. Besides, you know that Wolffe is the last soldier you’d expect to break protocol. The loyalty of following orders is weaved into his blood so intricately that you don’t even think about attempting to unravel these threads. It’s hardly your place to do so.

“I’ll come back later,” he answers sternly despite the exhaustion you hear in his tone.

Turning your body to face him fully, you aren’t surprised to see that his eyebrows are drawn together in that instinctive scowl not necessarily aimed toward you. Such an expression is more natural than intentional—at least, for him. He meets your eyes for a brief second before casting them downward, leading you to wonder why he seems so uncomfortably stricken. You sense this, just as you sense the pain he is currently trying to mask under his stoic philosophy. What’s he doing here, instead of checking into the med bay? You wonder this while remembering the tumble he took—for you, technically—just a few hours ago during your mission. The memory of falling from that mountainous peak crosses your mind, immediately followed by the moment when Wolffe cradled your body with his on the way down so that his landing impact was much more painful than yours. You meant to thank him for this sometime after, but things got in the way as they do in war. Now that you’re in a position to bring it up, though, you’re not sure how.

“No, that’s okay,” you tell him instead, “I was just about to leave.”

“Did you not find what you were looking for?” He questions, flicking his gaze at your empty hands you rub over each other in an effort to warm them.

“No. Guess we ran out of warmers—we should really ration them better.”

“You’re the only one who uses them.”

You wrinkle your nose at his factual statement, not wanting to concede but also not finding anything to say in rebuttal. So, you ask, “Did you need something?”

He gestures his chin at the crate beside your body. “Are there any medpatches in there?”

“I didn’t see any in this one…” you look down for a moment before reaching toward another crate while asking, “You might have better luck at the infirmary, to be honest. It’s pretty empty in here.”

“The infirmary’s busy,” is all he responds with a slight impatience to his tone as he takes a few steps further into the closet.

You’re suddenly hyperaware of his proximity, moving toward the side a bit to make room. It’s not a large space, cluttered with shelves and boxes somehow devoid of its usual contents. But you have been on the road for a while now, which could explain the reason for this fleet’s depleting resources. Thankfully, Coruscant is only a couple of hours away.

“Sorry,” you apologize when your backsides brush against each other. The collision of your soft robes against his hard armor is hardly noticeable, but you still find yourself burning in embarrassment for a reason you can only rule off as stupidity. Reminding yourself that this is Wolffe, and that you’ve been in much more compromising situations with him than a mere closet where both of you remain by choice, you swallow hard and exhale quietly.

“It’s fine.” His voice is barely a whisper, low and absentminded like he’s distracted.

You purse your lips, falling silent again until you glimpse a sneaky package of a few medpatches a little deeper into the shelf in front of you. Snatching them up with one hand, you turn around and declare, “Found them.”

Time seems to slow when he turns around to face you, bringing your bodies closer together even though you’re leaning back against the shelf like your life depends on it. His face is shadowed from the dim lighting above your heads, which almost makes his cybernetic eye look like the moon. You perceive the white and silver as an illumination that pauses your breathing and gravitates your gaze toward his scar. Noticing where you’re looking, he frowns and reaches for the box between your fingers in a hasty manner that startles you. Still, quick to adapt, you hold the medpatches closer to your chest and ask, “Too busy…even for you? The infirmary, I mean.”

“Does it matter?” He carefully pulls the package out of your grasp, not once touching you in the process—even accidentally.

You let your arms fall to your sides before squeezing the fabric of your robes. “Well, no, but…it doesn’t not matter.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You know what I mean.”

He rolls his eyes at this, but even that familiar gesture feels half-hearted from his obvious fatigue. You peer up at him closely, wondering why neither of you has left the room by now. It’s already been established that you couldn’t find what you needed. Meanwhile, he got what he came for. The question is simple enough—it’s the answer that you struggle to put your finger on.

“What?” He asks roughly, causing you to realize that you’re staring.

Taken aback by your own lack of control rather than his hostility, you clear your throat and drop your gaze to his chest plate. “If you’re hurt, someone should take a look—”

“I’m fine. Stop worrying about me all the time,” he dismisses, but you’re not convinced. When it comes to him, you’re never fully convinced.

“I’m not worried,” you clarify, taking the box of medpatches from him to tear it open, “I know what you’re doing. I think it’s honorable, but you should let them take care of you, too.”

His expression is wary as he replies, “And what am I doing, exactly? If you care to enlighten me.”

You shrug, setting the opened box on the shelf beside you to free up both of your hands.

“What you always do. Putting your brothers first…” you say quietly while reaching forward toward his armor, “Making sure they—”

Your words cut off when he catches your wrists in one hand. “Don’t touch me.”

“I’m helping you. Anyway, it’s my fault you need these in the first place,” you explain, trying to tug yourself out of his grip without too much physical force.

He only tightens his hold at this. Even though you can’t say for certain, you’re almost convinced that he leans in a bit closer before replying, “This is inappropriate.“

“Oh, please,” you scoff, ignoring the humiliation warming your cheeks, “You’re being immature. I’m sorry if you’ve never had your armor taken off by a woman before, but this isn’t that kind of context.”

You’re a bit surprised at yourself for these words as soon as they leave your mouth. Unsure if you just crossed a line, you press your lips together and anticipate a reaction. At first, all you receive is a clenched jaw and a burning stare that makes you realize a stomach-dropping truth. Maybe Wolffe’s right. Maybe this whole situation is inappropriate. If that’s the case, though, the question from earlier still stands. Why are you still here? Why is he still here?

“The women who take my armor off are none of your concern.”

This feels harsher than it actually sounds, but a stinging embarrassment pricks your eyes for a reason you try to discern without reading too deeply into it. Perhaps it’s his tone or the fact that he still holds onto you as if the thought of letting you touch him is simply unfathomable. Or disgusting. One or the other. Unfortunately, you also begin to think about the subject currently in question—the women who have undressed him in less professional settings. Places where you can never even dream of being with him. But you do, and you’re reminded yet again why you shouldn’t.

“I didn’t say they were,” you scowl, averting your eyes from his.

He’s quiet instead of responding, so you continue, “If you’re done proving your point, then let go of me. I’ll get out of your hair.”

A pause that almost feels reluctant passes between the two of you before he releases your wrists. You immediately tuck your hands into your robes, willing away the buzzing heat that strangely combats the cold you felt before this moment. This warmth quickly trickles away, though, diluted by the venator’s unfortunate temperature. But, just as you’re about to leave, it returns in the form of a softer tone you recognize despite not hearing it often.

“It’s not your fault,” he says in reference to your earlier statement regarding his wounds, “I’m fine. It’s a bruise at most.”

You glance up at him, surprised both by this reassurance but also the fact that he hasn’t put an end to this conversation yet. Pushing your back off from the shelf, you find yourself dangerously face-to-face with him as your feet slide into the gap between his legs. You’re standing at your full height now, but you don’t feel as confident as you might appear. Not when he’s looking at you through heavy eyelids that almost seem lazy even though he’s anything but that particular quality. Despite trying to sense his current feelings in hopes of clarifying this inappropriate situation, you’re only thrust into a hazy fog that confuses you more. It’s just as your master always tells you—strong, uncontrolled emotions cloud your judgment. No matter what they are.

“You’re always saving my ass,” you admit to him, “I don’t want that to catch up to you one day.”

His eyebrows raise at this for a brief moment. “You think it will?”

“No, but this war doesn’t care what any of us think.”

“That’s pessimistic. Even for you.”

“Really?” you reply sarcastically with a subtle smile, “I wonder where I got that from.”

He doesn’t react to this other than a flash of amusement that you catch in his eyes as he stares at you. His quiet intensity is so overwhelming that you plead with yourself to leave before you can embarrass yourself further, but the opposite of this wishful thinking occurs beyond your control. Instead of taking a step away, you take one forward. At this point, you’re even closer to him—but he does not move. Your hands are now clasped behind your back even though you’re not actively remembering his words from before—don’t touch me. It’s classic Wolffe to tell you what to do, but it’s not every day when you listen. What is every day, though, is your ability to call him out on his bullshit.

“I don’t know why you haven’t left yet,” you tell him before laughing softly, “Or why you haven’t told me to piss off…because you totally would. If that’s what you wanted.”

He swallows, leaving you wondering if he’s just as nervous as you are. Taking advantage of his silence, you briefly close your eyes and inhale so as to clear your mind. You’re now more certain there’s a way through this conversation rather than around, which will only be proven or denied soon enough.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is…even though you don’t want my help…you’re still here,” you continue.

“So are you.”

“Because you don’t have to ask me to stay.”

Another beat of silence consumes the stare both of you hold before he sighs, “Stubborn ass.”

But the insult is hardly effective at offending you, even provoking another laugh that’s louder and sharper this time around.

“You’re one to talk,” you reply, “That’s why you’re not at the infirmary right now.”

“It’s busy,” he repeats his answer from earlier, “The other casualties are more severe. There’s only so many medics available.”

“Well, I’m no medic, but I can tell you that you might have more than a bruise from that fall,” you tell him.

“Well,” he copies your tone, “Since you’re not a medic, I wouldn’t believe you.”

You roll your eyes at this but ignore it otherwise because you know every second spent talking is one wasted in easing his pain. Trying one more time for good measure, you say, “We can just get this over with. It’ll be easier if you let me help you.”

Before he can respond with disagreement or protest, you reach for the top half of his armor again. This time, he doesn’t grab onto you. Instead, he squares his shoulders a bit and replies, “I doubt you can figure it out.”

When you glance up with furrowed eyebrows, he clarifies, “How to take all this shit off, I mean.”

Feeling a bit underestimated, you set your jaw with amusing determination. Of course, this isn’t because of his comment about the other women who might’ve done this before. You’re not even thinking about that—how silly to even remember such a trivial implication. Just as you’re about to prove him wrong, you realize you don’t even know where to start. At first glance, this kind of task doesn’t seem too difficult. But when you lightly tug on his shoulder plate out of curiosity as to what’ll happen (nothing did), you laugh and begin feeling your way around his upper body to find any openings that might make this easier. He sucks in a breath but doesn’t stop you, allowing you to figure this out before interfering.

“I don’t know,” you giggle quietly, slightly embarrassed but also entertained, “Feel free to step in at any point…”

“I think I’m good.”

“You sure? We might be here all day…”

You’re not looking at him as you say this, too far deep into concentrating on the many gimmicks that hold his armor together. Because of this, you miss the brief smile that twitches his lips—but you feel it. A sudden rush of energy sparks your senses, one that you’re aware isn’t your own. It’s similar to affection and joy but also hard to define. A little startled, you lift your head and meet his eyes as your laughter subsides into a calmer silence that seems heavier when considering how your hands are rested against his chest. You’re so close to touching his heartbeat but also so far.

“You’re enjoying this,” you tease despite your heightening nerves, “Watching me struggle.”

“Maybe a little.”

Before you can respond to this, Wolffe exhales and starts taking his armor off himself while holding your gaze. He begins with his arms, never once letting his eyes falter from yours. It’s almost too much to bear, leaving your insides a churning mess as your heart rattles faster against your chest, but it’s also worth the risk. You watch him closely, feeling more seen than ever before. Truth be told, a dark closet is the last place you expect to be found with him. Now that you’re here, though, you silently wish that nobody else comes searching. It doesn’t take long for the armor around his arms and shoulders to fall away, revealing a sight you’ve already seen before from the many missions you’ve endured together. But this moment feels different. You’re not surrounded by other troopers in a crowded medical bay where everyone is either armor-less, shirtless, or somewhere in between. You’re alone with him. He hasn’t even exposed any skin yet, but you know this is already wildly inappropriate. The only problem is…you don’t care.

Still quiet, you carefully brace your hands around the complicated parts of his chest plate. He seems to respond to this with his eyes rather than a verbal command, briefly flicking his gaze downward before meeting yours once again. You inhale a soft breath, letting both intuition and his guiding presence lead you toward the last of this barrier. The pieces of his chest plate are heavier than you anticipate, but you hardly struggle with their weight. Regardless, he takes them from you as soon as they unlatch themselves from his body. You can’t deny the exhilarated rush that floods your veins when you take in the sight of his upper half, still clothed with a skin-tight fabric that never fails to widen your eyes. The shape of his collarbones and the imprints of his muscles stare straight at you. Or maybe you’re just staring at them.

“Turn around,” you whisper, “And take your shirt off.”

His eyes narrow for a split second before he obliges from one order to the next. He turns around first, baring his backside to your perception. You can’t help but look away when he sheds his clothing from his top half, thinking this gesture will ease the intimacy of the present moment. But when you look up again, sliding your eyes over his dark and bruised skin, you realize there is nothing easy about this. The tension doesn’t just freeze you up, though. Through the dim lighting, you can observe every instance the hard plane of his back flexes and stiffens like it’s both anticipating and rejecting someone’s touch. Perhaps under different circumstances, you would admire such a broad and disciplined sight clearly bred from more than just favorable genetics. But when he asks, “How bad is it?” in a hoarse tone that startles you, the real reason for this situation interrupts once again.

You swallow the lump in your throat, unsure why your response is slightly delayed. “Not bad. Just some bruises, like you said.”

He tips his head back a little, supposedly looking up at the ceiling before releasing a breath. This soft sound stutters when you touch his lower back where most of the purplish bruising can be found. His skin is rough, fitting for a man like him. But it’s also warm, contrasting the cold that bites your fingertips.

“Does it hurt?” You murmur while applying a little pressure, “When I do this?”

“No.” But he sounds as if he’s in pain.

You draw your hand back, reaching for the medpatches off to the side. As soon as you begin placing them over his bruises, gently smoothing your hand down so that they stick, he immediately sighs in apparent relief. It sounds more like a groan from the low depth of his voice, though. Goosebumps prickle your arms, but you keep going until you’ve reached a satisfactory point where any remnants of his injury are now encased in this temporary method of healing. Honestly, you still believe he should have gone to the infirmary for a more professional diagnosis—but you cannot complain about this opportunity, either. Your hands are still on his skin even after you’re all done just because he feels so warm.

Suddenly, he breaks the silence. “Are you done?”

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, dropping your hands from his body to rub them against each other as if to savor the heat you absorbed from him. You can already feel it disappearing, reminding you that this moment hardly belongs to you. It shouldn’t have even happened. Helping your comrade isn’t necessarily against protocol, but this not-so-innocent favor drives a pang of problematic guilt deep into your heart like a blade wedged between two choices. It’s hard to say what these choices even are, but you already know where your duties lie. No matter how often you dream of another possibility that allows your feelings to truly blossom, you are stuck in the greenhouse where you’ve already pledged your loyalty. The sunlight that has nurtured you ever since you were just a youngling cannot be replaced by the moonlight you crave. Because flowers don’t grow at night. Only dangerous desires do, whispered like the voice in your head that tells you not to cross the line.

Right now, the most dangerous of them all has you wishing for time to move slower so that you don’t reach Coruscant as fast as you initially wanted. The fact is, though, what’s done is done—and you answered this yourself. You sealed it into permanence, widening the distance with every step you take away from his slightly quivering body. He’s shaking so subtly that you almost miss the desperation in his eyes that pierce through yours when he turns his head toward you. Closer to the panel that would open the door now, you pause and stare back at him while wondering if there’s something either of you should be saying. A quick sentence that can lighten the heavy mood bearing down on your shoulders and squeezing your heart. Or, nothing at all. You straighten your back and turn on your heel before anything can slip out. The corridors are much louder as you walk away from the closet, hardly leaving any traces behind but a lingering confession unspoken and unyielding.

It’s still chilly in here, you realize. Because space is terribly, inevitably cold.

[sadaveniren]

Hey, might be a silly question but what’s the point in the twins and Lottie going to LA to visit ? The general public don’t pick up on it as it’s not something worth writing articles about. The only ones who see and care about the posts are fans.

Is it because Louis never posts anything on his social media they have to upload on his behalf to make it known that he’s also there.

Coz if Louis’s been in LA since he’s tour finished surely he or B would have posted something to indicate that. So why is it we only get photos of them together when it’s his sister uploading the images / videos. Does Louis have an agreement where he doesn’t have to post images on his account ?

Well isn't that the million dollar question.

We have no clue what the terms are for the stunt. We don't know what has been agreed upon or not. We can only make assumptions, or educated guesses. It's something that pisses a lot of people off, and makes them leave the fandom because they'll make assumptions and guesses they don't like and decide that that is the truth.

We have no clue what's going on behind the scenes. We never really have. Louis (and Harry) have done an absolutely incredible job of really tightening their circles and not letting actual private information leak anymore. Because there was a time people in fandom had inside information, because the 1DHQ circle was so big and wide and people in that circle talked. They don't anymore.

Here's the truth of it (hehe Perrie Edwards Pun) Briana was never pregnant. Louis and her never fucked. Calvin fucked up in May 2015 and made sure we knew he didn't come to the house because he was going back to Harry's. We know Louis is not that child's dad. They can't take that back. The people who were here when that was going on will never be convinced otherwise because we lived it. And they can't give us the ultimate proof (the dna test) because he's never taken one. We have heard multiple times he hasn't taken one. Hell we last got confirmation of that in 2021 or whatever when Briana scammed that dude for fake boobs because his "custody agreement" with her is based on him not taking the dna test. TBH that's all any of us who have been here need to know to know it's still fake af.

So why is it still going on? No clue. Why is it only his sisters that post about it? No clue. But it's what happens and ultimately anything the twins or Lottie do.... don't matter. Like. I ultimately don't care why because it doesn't matter to me. It's not proof of anything. It's just... there.

Anyone who is struggling with the stunts should look into the skill Radical Acceptance I think it would do a better job of explaining what I'm trying to say about the stunts and the twins and Lottie and all of that.

[thesupreme316]

aew stars reacting to their gfs being a boss ass bitch 🤭

nick wayne x female reader, darius martin x female reader, hook x female reader, action andretti x female reader, dante martin x female reader, Eddie kingston x female reader, ricky starks x female reader! even for fun throw in anna jay x female reader, skye blue x female reader, and/or Julia hart x female reader????

AEW Stars React to: You Being A Rich and Famous CEO

Pairings: Nick Wayne x Fem!reader, Darius Martin x Fem!reader, hook x Fem!reader, Dante Martin x Fem!reader, Eddie Kingston x Fem!reader, Ricky Starks x Fem!reader, Julia Hart x Fem!reader

Word Count: 1.1K

Supreme Speaks: hey all sorry for being late/m.i.a, i started school (senior yearrrrr) and been trying to adjust my schedule. i is back now . thanks to my baeee @hooks-martin for requesting. i hope everyone enjoys it. please remember that you are loved and appreciated.

Warnings: this is my perspective of a "boss ass bitch" may have indications that reader is a suga momma (hey at least you got money), I kind of cut Andretti out cause I didn’t really know how to write him without being repetitive

Taglist: @hooks-martin @hookerforhook @wwenhlimagines @triscillal @sheinthatfandom @eddie-kingstons-wifey @cassie0sstuff

Every woman must ask themselves a question:

How are you a boss bitch? WELL BITCH LEMME TELL YOU

You are the CEO of a popular brand (cooking, makeup, clothing, etc.)

At one point you were featured in Vogue, Forbes, TIMES, everything

Rich? Check. Gorgeous? check. Smart? Check. YOU CHECKED ALL THE BOXES (and you do irl, don’t doubt yourself)

Everyone bowed to you as you displayed class, poise, and grace

But also you weren’t afraid to get tough if pushed in the wrong way

Which is what made you so likable and relatable

And that’s what made your boyfriend fall for you

Ricky Starks

MANS LOVE IT

This man was made for the luxury lifestyle

Don’t think this would be a one-sided relationship

He would spoil you too (IM A BELIEVER THAT RICKY SPOILS EVERYONE IN HIS LIFE)

Flowers, nice ass clothes from unpopular brands, things even you didn’t know existed

Would constantly brag about you on Instagram and in promos

“I think y’all are just mad that you don’t have a smoking hot, hardworking, intelligent, and rich girlfriend.”

Will do anything to make sure you feel well taken care of

Will play jokes on you like pretending to use your card when paying for dinner

“I mean you can spare 15 dollars…what do you mean no? Cheapskate.”

Nick Wayne

He found out by accident tbh…I think he genuinely didn’t know that you were rich

Or he didn’t know how rich you are

Nick is so sweet and I think he would be so humble about this

He doesn’t know what he did to deserve you

Will feel at first weird about receiving gifts from you

I think he would be a little bit insecure about what he can do for you

But over time will start accepting them

Your attitude? He loves it

He loves how you’re able to take charge in spaces

“Babe, it’s just ketchup. I don’t like but I’ll eat it- please don’t argue with the cashier.”

I think he likes being taken care of…..cause he’s a lil baby

Darius Martin

Mans was enamored with your intelligence and your determination

Truly loves how your mind works and he uses you as a form of inspiration

Loves how you can tell off haters and people who dare to challenge you

Sometimes will forget that you have money or that you’re a CEO

“How did you get those shoes? Those came out this m-wait, you’re rich.”

Is always surprised with how much time you can make for him in your busy schedule

I feel like Darius will spoil you too like Ricky but with stuff that you would not really buy

Like lil trinkets and food

Would quietly brag about you and your accomplishments

Darius will post pictures of your achievements on insta and will block people who dare to trash talk you

Hook

Hook loves how humble you are about it

You would never flash your money to people just out of nowhere

But he also likes how you would quietly flex

Like he would get random gifts from you when you were away from him

Taz: What are these boxes?

Hook: Oh, Y/N got me some Jordans, new hoodies, and hair products……they were on sale, I think

As he is a private person, no one would know about your relationship except for close friends and families

And ya’ll prefer it that way; no eyes, no pressure, no one in your business

I also think that Hook would try to stop you from paying and buying so much

Sometimes, he’ll buy something before you so that way you can save money and not waste it

Knowing you, you’re gonna send that money to him and continue to shop

Dante Martin

Like Nick Wayne, HE’S A BABY

Like his brother, he would often forget that you’re rich

Because of the fact that Dante likes you for your personality

Doesn’t know how to react to your gifts

Feels overwhelmed, and grateful, but feels kind of embarrassed (cause he’s not used to this type of affection)

Is grateful for everything but assures that you don’t need to buy him anything

Will try to buy you things, but forgets that you basically already have it

“I got you this-oh you have five of them already.” (Cue you throwing the ones you already have away)

I also think he would do things that he thinks is unique for you

Like mans would create a finishing move and name it after you

Eddie Kingston (I’m finna go in)

MANS DOES NOT BELIEVE THAT HE DESERVES YOU

Also did not know how rich you were

Like he is in denial that you really like him, and would try to make sure that you don’t spend any money

Sometimes, he thinks that you’re spending money on him as a pity/sympathetic move

Cause of that, you two agreed that major presents/spending are only acceptable for special occasions

I think he also keeps track of how much you have spent on him and puts himself in debt to you

Becomes self-conscious around you, it was like pulling teeth with him to tell you

“Doll, I just think I can’t do anything for you. I don’t deserve you at all. But I love you so fucking much.”

Y’all give each other another perspective of the world and slowly Eddie starts accepting that you guys belong together

Julia Hart

Like Ricky, this woman THRIVES in this relationship

She would be private about your relationship like Hook, barely making any posts referring to you

But takes everything you give her with a smile and gratitude

Cause do ya’ll know how expensive goth and alternative clothes are?

Loves to go on shopping trips with you, loves to travel and try new things

“Can we go here? Yeah I know we went there last week but it was pretty”

You also start using her as a model for your company

This would be a beneficial relationship for the two of you as she always gives back

With dates, gifts, and straight-up surprises

She also sets you up with security services from the House of Black

[merlyn-bane]

hi hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii if you're still doing foelu prompts i would love to see cody and helix and the baby just being soft dads <3333

or really anything helix-centric tbh

So uh,,,,this one got a little tiny bit out of hand and is much longer than the other fills have been, whoops 😅😅 I hope this is Helix-centric enough for you, my love<3 There's a little bit of everything, from fluff to humor to spice!

Without further adieu, I present to you Baby Part Two: Electric Boogaloo.

[Requests for Foelu missing scenes, future snippets, and extra vignettes are STILL OPEN. Please submit any requests you might have to my ask box. They will all eventually be cross posted on AO3 as well 🥰🥰]

~~~~~~~~

By the time Obi-Wan brings up the possibility of having another child, they’ve all pretty much accepted that it likely wasn’t going to happen. It’s not something they’d ever really discussed, after all, and none of them had really wanted to be the ones to bring it up for fear that Obi-Wan might feel in any way obligated to carry again just to give them another child. Especially given that—regardless of the fact that he’s made it very clear that he has no regrets about it now—the first pregnancy wasn’t exactly his choice to begin with and had been fairly traumatic from start to finish to say the very least. Helix had frankly assumed that Obi-Wan would want nothing to do with gestation ever again as long as he lived, and personally thought that would be more than fair.

Besides, just him and Kai-Tal are—so much more than enough. More than any of them ever thought they’d have. 

He thinks it must have been either Waxer or Rex that had held out hope the longest, but after a decade passes with the Jedi giving no indication of even considering having another ik’aad, it becomes a little difficult even for them to think that he might change his mind eventually. 

But then one day, he just…does. Helix couldn’t even say what could have possibly prompted it. They’re all just…settling in for bed one night, following a day just like any other, and then Obi-Wan’s sitting up and folding his hands in his lap all prim and then asking them if they might, perhaps, be interested in having another child. If they might like, even, to get a child on him themselves, in the standard natborn way. 

Cody recovers enough to actually respond first, even if he’s still slack-jawed. “We’re—the Kaminoans made us sterile, cyare,” he murmurs, and it sounds like it breaks his heart to do so. It probably does. Who among them hasn’t thought of what that might be like, to have a child that’s part them and part Obi-Wan? “You know that.”

Obi-Wan considers Cody seriously, clearly taking the time to carefully mull over what he wants to say next. “Do we know that for certain,” he asks finally, “or is that just what you all were told?”

The five of them glance at each other with wide eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s ever checked,” Helix allows finally, the words sounding halting even to his own ears, “but I can’t imagine why they would lie to us about something like that.”

“Not lie,” Obi-Wan corrects, his brows furrowed thoughtfully. He strokes absently at his beard and Helix finds himself—rather surprisingly—having to work to suppress a small fond smile at the tic. “It is not a large leap, I feel, to think that Jango Fett himself might have been sterile, given the trouble he went to himself in order to have a son, and it’s feasible that the scientists didn’t think to ensure that you all would be, too.”

“But we’re…clones of him, mesh’la,” Waxer frowns, “isn’t that the sort of thing that usually gets passed down?”

Obi-Wan grins, suddenly, looking oddly conspiratorial. “Not if he became so as the result of an accident or illness rather than genetics.”

“Prime had spmumps as a youngling,” Helix whispers, feeling his own eyes widen a fraction further. “I saw it in his medical file. He—it’s—not impossible. In theory. It might…actually be worth looking into.”

The Jedi’s grin broadens. “Excellent,” he says. “And after that, we can have my contraceptive implant removed, and you all can come inside me one after another until it takes.”

“I vote we start practicing right now,” Boil growls playfully, yanking Obi-Wan into his lap by his hips and kissing his laughing mouth.

~~~

They aren’t…they aren’t sterile. 

Every single vod in their polycule gets tested, and then a few of the others that they're closer to across different batches just for a larger sample size. There is some variation in their counts and other factors which doesn’t actually surprise him—even cloning to the sort of strict perimeters adhered to by the Kaminoans, some variability is inevitable—but it’s all consistent enough that Helix feels comfortable putting word out to the Vode at large.

It’s only then that Helix comes to his next concern.

Obi-Wan had not exactly been young when he’d carried the first time, not by natborn humanoid standards, and that had been a little over a decade ago. Helix by this point has done a fair amount of study and penned no small amount of papers on reproductive biology in a frankly somewhat surprising and entirely inadvertent specialization—has somehow become known as one of the foremost experts on the subject regarding the Stewjoni people within the Republic, much to Eil-Idh’s seemingly unending amusement, even—and is very much aware of the increased risks that come with pregnancy as a being gets older. Things like gestational diabetes or preeclampsia, not even to touch on the risks to the potential child themselves. 

So Helix sets up a conference call with himself and Vokara with Eil-Idh to determine if such a pregnancy would even be truly feasible—because Helix isn't willing to risk Obi-Wan’s health, and he knows the others won't be either—and tries not to feel too much like he's been caught in a time loop. 

The first words of of Eil-Idh’s mouth are “What has that damned fool managed te get himself into now?”, which Helix finds much funnier than he probably should and which garners snorts from him and Vokara both. 

“That is about what I was wondering as well,” Vokara says dryly, raising a brow at Helix, and Helix sighs before scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Obi-Wan is thinking about carrying again.”

Eil-Idh blinks at him. “Aye? That's a surprise. I half figured the lad had mind te have his womb removed entirely by the end of the first one. How is yer wee one, anyhow? She was quite a precocious lass, last I heard.”

“Let’s just say that I'm glad we have so much help,” Helix replies wryly, smiling fondly despite that. “And that's about what I'd thought, too. He caught us all of guard when he brought it up, especially since it's been so long.” 

“Aye, he's certainly nae spring nuna.” Eil-Idh drums her fingers on her desktop. “But then, I'll wager that's exactly what ye're calling me about. He's approaching fifty now, isn't he?” The midwife shakes he head, pursing her lips. “I've little doubt he could do it, stubborn and hardy as he is, and it wouldnae be te first I've seen, but it wouldnae be my preference.”

“I think this is where I come in,” Vokara grins, sitting forward and folding her hands together. “As Jedi, our relationship with the Force affects the impact that the passage of time has upon our physical bodies. As younglings we age on par with our Force-null peers because that relationship is still new, but the longer we have communed with the Force, the more that aging slows. Many Jedi that are not lost in the field  live much longer lives than even other members of their own species.” Vokara turns an even more excited grin onto Helix. “And our observations over the last  ten or so years have suggested that that effect may even be seen by those nulls that do spend enough time in proximity to us.”

 Well that would explain a lot, Helix thinks. Even with the gene therapy that's long since been rolled out to them all to address their advanced aging, he's pretty sure his back should bother him a lot worse than it does. “So you don't have any concerns?”

“About his age? No. I wouldn't recommend that you go for a third, probably, but especially with Obi-Wan spending so much more time in the Temple now with access to the full breadth of our medical resources and what we learned from his first pregnancy, his age isn't what I'm worried about.” Vokara tilts her head a little. “I would be more worried about the potential of the advanced aging gene being passed down. It's dominant, isn't it?” 

“It is.” Helix swallows. “You're worried it would double the rate of gestational development and put it past what his body could support.”

Vokara nods seriously before glancing over at the midwife. “What do you think, Eil-Idh?”

“I think I'd rather not find out,” she replies, blunt as ever. “How sure are ye that's how it would work?”

“Not very,” Helix answers truthfully. “That hasn't been my area of focus. But I can touch base with Kamino and see what they know; Bones is still out there last I heard.”

“Do that,” Vokara says. “We'll go from there.”

~~~

“Don't tell me our Jedi's gone and fuckin’ sprouted again,” Bones answers without preamble once the comm. connects, glancing up from a datapad. The other medic seems to be in the temporary office he's held for ten years, which reassures Helix that he's probably not interrupting anything critical. 

“What, no ‘Hello, Helix, how are you’?” Helix mocks, “No ‘Been a while, vod, I'm surprised your sanity's still kicking’? ‘How's your ad'ika’? You're just going to jump straight in to asking me if we're having another one?”

“My bedside manner will improve when yours does,” Bones drawls. “You don't make social calls, Helix, you send me a text comm. every quarter and ask if my riduur has finally had enough of my attitude and fed me to the strill yet.” 

“And I am continually disappointed.” Bones's Mandalorian wife seems to actually like him for some reason, despite his perpetual grouch and the fact that they're still on Kamino when Helix is near certain they'd been supposed to have a successful curry shop in Little Keldabe by now. Helix squints at him. “Obi-Wan wants to have another baby,” he tells the other man bluntly, “but he wants to do it the standard natborn way this time. I'm concerned about how our advanced aging would affect a pregnancy.”

Bones snorts. “We're just going to ignore the other glaring issue with this plan?” 

“I've already run that part by Che,” he says irritably. “That's not what I asked you.”

“You didn't actually ask me anything,” the other medic points out. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back, raising an eyebrow. “Do you really think that over the span of a decade, none of our siblings have managed to knock up a natborn, Helix? Really.” 

“Then how come this is the first I'm hearing about it?” he snaps. “We all still thought we were sterile until Obi-Wan made the suggestion that we check.” 

“Well I suppose they must have wanted their privacy. You know we don't publish that shit publicly because the Republic media likes to turn any developments with the Vode since the war ended into a shitstorm of feel-good porn to soothe their own guilty consciences.” His brow raises a notch higher. “And I'm a little busy advancing our scope of knowledge to notify you personally. It's all on our private medical servers if you'd thought to look.”

Helix ignores the dig. Bones isn't actually wrong. “So it can work, then? Obi-Wan could carry our biological children safely?”

“Safely? If Che's comfortable with him gestating at all at his age, sure.” Bones taps his fingers against his bicep where his arms are still folded. “Comfortably? That's subjective. It's only the one molecule that actually causes the development rate to double; with the kid getting one modified gene from you and a standard one from the other parent, the development rate lands somewhere in the middle. From what I've seen gestation will probably last about seven and a half months and he'll feel more or less like he's carrying twins. His symptoms'll be worse and you'll want to monitor everything more closely but if you're asking if I think it'll seriously jeopardize him, then no. And since I know this'll be the next question: the kid would be able to receive the same gene therapy the rest of us did once they're born. We even already have the dosages figured out. They just can't receive it in utero.”

Helix frowns, mulling that over. It's beginning to sound doable, at least, but Helix would really prefer for his partner to not have to be miserable for seven and a half months if it can be avoided—even though he knows that such a thing would never be enough of a deterrent for Obi-Wan. Maybe even more so because of that. “What about IVF? Then we could edit the genes in the embryo stage like you all did for that first round of tubies after you got the gene therapy figured out. Get rid of the advanced aging factor altogether ahead of implantation.”

“Sure,” Bones agrees jovially, “if you think you can get Obi-Wan Kenobi to agree to leave the Temple for three weeks to undergo a series of medical procedures here on Kamino when his other option is getting fucked in his own bed.”

Helix groans, burying his face in his hands while Bones laughs at him. “I hate it when you're right,” he grumbles. “Genuinely.”

~~~

Helix lays all of this information out in front of the other members of the polycule once he has it so that they can make a decision together, because that's how they do things, and he'd been pretty sure going into it that he'd already known the answer, but Obi-Wan of course manages to catch him off guard regardless. 

“So, you're telling me that if just have you all get me pregnant the old fashioned way, the baby's advanced aging can still be treated postpartum and I only have to be pregnant for seven and a half months?” 

“Why are you saying that like it's a benefit?” Helix stares at the fucking madman he'd somehow managed to fall ass over bucket for, aghast. 

For his part, Obi-Wan only shrugs placidly. “It certainly sounds like one to me.”

“Di'kut, did you miss the part where I also told you that your symptoms are going to be worse? It's going to feel like you're carrying twins, Obi-Wan.”

“Well Padmé managed it well enough,” the Jedi sniffs. “And I get to evict them a month and a half early. I'm failing to see the downside here, darling.”

Helix groans and buries his palms in his eye sockets, long-suffering. Cody pats him on the shoulder. The others just chuckle. “Why do I bother,” he mutters. 

Obi-Wan grins, unrepentant. “Would you like to go first?”

~~~

Not all of the research that Helix does in the lead-up to Obi-Wan’s second pregnancy is quite so serious or unpleasant. 

In fact, the fruits of some of it turn out to be quite fun. 

For instance, Helix has read extensively about the ideal conditions for conception. The best diet for his partner in the lead-up, the most opportune timing, the optimal positions, et cetera. There's little truely empirical evidence for most of it, but if it might help and there aren't any major drawbacks that he can see? Helix sees no reason not to give it a shot. 

There's also the fact that Obi-Wan has left the planning of all of these details in the conception of their second child in Helix's hands. He has allowed the careful scheduling, allowed Helix to direct things more in the bedroom (despite some mild teasing from the others, who have seemed happy enough to play along regardless), has even allowed Helix to plan out the majority of his meals for him—all with a considering gaze and a barely-there quirk to his mouth, as though the Jedi knows that some part of Helix is enjoying all of it more than he'd maybe expected. That he's getting off on the control and the willing submission of a man that Helix knows is one of the most stubborn motherfuckers in the galaxy when he wants to be. It's... heady. Very heady. 

That man's head is in his lap right now, a pillow under his hips to support the angle they've been propped up into and Helix's fingers carding through the sweaty strands of his hair in an almost parody of a soothing touch while Cody feverishly ruts into his cunt—the cunt where Helix has already left his own spend. “Been a while since we've just run a train on you, hasn't it, Obi-Wan?” Helix croons, smirking at the hazy blue eyes that flicker up to his face when he speaks but don't quite focus. “You've gotten a little too used to just getting everything you want all at once, I think. Just look at you, ner jetii, you've only taken two of us and you're already out of your poor little head. Cody hasn't even come yet, you've still got four more loads to go.” 

Obi-Wan chokes on a moan and the former commander swears viciously, readjusting his hold and shifting his knees a little and then picking up the pace even more, somehow. “Kriff,” Cody growls through bared teeth, a sentiment that seems to be echoed by the rest of them—Waxer, Boil, and Rex all staring slack-jawed at the sight that they must make. Rex in particular looks like he's just barely reigning himself in until it's his turn; but then, Helix wouldn't expect much else from the vod that frequently enjoys licking his own come out of the Jedi's hole only to fuck more into him in an endless cycle until Obi-Wan cries from the overstimulation.

Not that any of them had really been less affected when their partner confirmed that he'd had his birth control implant removed. 

They all fuck him one after another until the Jedi's poor cunt is puffy and red and overflowing and then they leave him like that, with his hips propped up and laying back against Helix barely conscious and grinning like a dolt while they give their seed its best chance to take. 

And then they do it all again the next night, just in case. 

~~~

Helix is hovering. 

Just a little bit—or maybe a lot, possibly. He knows he is. But with his partner approaching the halfway mark of  his shortened pregnancy and every bit as miserable as Helix had feared, it's hard not to. He hasn't developed any signs of complications or any serious conditions, mercifully, but Helix is poised to catch it immediately if that changes. 

“I hardly need an escort to the ‘fresher, darling,” Obi-Wan grits through his teeth as though he is not actively using Helix's arm to hold himself steady, clearly making an attempt to modulate his tone into something less biting but not quite managing. Helix barely notices at this point; the Jedi's hormones have been downright torrential, and the physical discomfort has been no help to his moods. If he is not waspish, he is weepy, and if he is not weepy, he is horny enough that Helix isn't certain they could've handled it with any less than the five of them they have. 

He'd all but cried all over Kai-Tal when she'd earned the first bead of her padawan braid, and then again when she'd earned the second. 

They are all managing as best they can. 

“I don't want to see you fall over again, Obi-Wan,” Helix argues, though he's careful not to let the words sound accusatory. Obi-Wan scoffs anyway. 

“You take one little tumble—”

“Your entire center of gravity is off and you know it,” Helix reminds him firmly. “Worse than the first time. I told you—”

“And I stand by my decision,” Obi-Wan snips, scowling. “Now would you very much mind either shutting up or fucking me?”

Helix snorts softly. “Yeah, alright, Master Kenobi. ‘Fresher first, then maybe we'll talk about it.” 

~~~

Helix gets to be the one to deliver their son.

Obi-Wan’s labor goes much, much smoother the second time around—the exact way he’d wanted it to back then, even. The contractions begin in the morning just after firstmeal, and they all have plenty of time to reschedule any obligations they may have or delegate any responsibilities that can’t wait before things progress enough for them to walk down to the Halls of Healing, where they are met by Vokara and Bant.

If anything, with the absence of the stress and adrenaline that had kickstarted Kai-Tal’s delivery, Obi-Wan’s labor this time is slower than the Jedi would like. He spends a fair amount of time bouncing on an exercise ball and harassing his créchemate before things really start to kick off, and by then, Bant is more than ready to give him his epidural. 

They all remember his feelings on that matter.

It’s Cody that Obi-Wan holds onto for support once it’s decided that it’s time for him to start getting into position, gripping his hands as he squats down. Assuming that Bant will be the one handling the delivery, Helix stands off to the side with the others and tries to fight the urge to pace until the Mon Calamari healer snorts at him and tilts her head. 

“What are you doing over there?” she asks him, her voice all gentle teasing as she folds her arms across her chest. “You’re a medic too and it’s your baby.”

Helix swallows. “I—are you sure?”

“Oh for Force’s sake,” Obi-Wan snaps, pulling his head back from where he’d been pressing his forehead against Cody’s just enough to glare up at them. “Get down here. Bant and Vokara will be here to assist if needed but you are perfectly capable of catching our son, Helix.”

Helix will deny the goofy smile that takes over his face as long as he lives but is totally unable to help it as he moves into position, kissing Obi-Wan’s cheek along the way. “Alright, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”

“I know,” the Jedi grunts in response. The pushing starts not long after, and the next two hours pass in a blur of everybody working to help support Obi-Wan through the process in any way they can. 

Helix has never been more in awe of their Jedi. It had been one thing to know, in theory, what he had gone through to bring Kai-Tal into the world. It is another thing entirely to actually watch him go through the process now and know that this time he’s doing it in a proper medical facility with the support of his partners and access to painkillers he hadn’t had then. 

Their son comes into the world at seven pounds and eleven ounces just in time for latemeal at seven and a half months on the dot, screaming his fury at them all for the egregious crime of removing him from the quiet warmth of his father’s body and already looking…just like his buir’e. There’s a little bit of Obi-Wan in the shape of his eyes and chin, but other than that…

“You were right,” Helix tells his partner once they all finally have a moment to breathe, his voice unmistakably hoarse and wobbly as he stares down into their son’s perfect face. “Someone’s going to think you kidnapped him, one of these days.”

“It’ll serve me right, I suppose,” Obi-Wan snorts, looking tired but happy in the biobed he’d been helped into as he holds his arms out for the boy. Helix lays the baby on his chest—only a tiny bit hesitant to relinquish him—and Obi-Wan hums quietly as he smiles down at the boy before glancing back up at his partners, the five of them all crowded close. “We are still calling him Keeli, I presume?”All eyes go to Rex, who hasn’t bothered to wipe any of the moisture from his face as he stares down at their son. Keeli had been his batchmate, after all; Obi-Wan had insisted that they chose the child’s name this time since he’d chosen Kai-Tal’s, and they’d all been at a loss until Rex had quietly asked if they could name him after his vod that hadn’t lived to see the end of the war. None of them had had the heart to tell him ‘no’, and besides, there were much worse names in the galaxy than Keeli Kenobi. “Yeah,” Rex whispers, reaching down to stroke his thumb through the baby’s thatch of dark curls. “Keeli Kenobi.”

[eliotquillon]

Cameron seems like one of those victorian girls that shoplifted just to feel a rush.

In all honesty, I don't think she was that much of a goody-two-shoes when she was younger. It always seemed to me that what happened to her husband changed everything about her. Her morals, thoughts, ideas etc. She was probably a compelety normal teenage girl.

yeah to be clear if characters make speculative assumptions about each other in my fic that’s not necessarily indicative of what i personally headcanon for them—especially for chameron tbh. the things chase or cameron assume about each other in my fic are almost always slightly off from what i personally think about them as separate characters because they forever have some kind of communication gap going on.

that said . i do hesitate to say that her husband’s death is solely responsible for why cameron is the way she is. one of the first things house says when cameron tells him about her husband in 1x7 is ‘you knew he was dying when you married him’; he accepts his death as an explanation for why she’s so bad at giving patients bad news and why she puts marriage on such a pedestal, but the implication here is that actually the reason why cameron is Like That isn’t as simple as the one-off traumatic event that house has been fishing for. see the episode with the 600lb guy where everyone is popping at her all episode desperate to find out what part of her past makes her want to help this guy so badly because they can’t understand and it turns out there isn’t some dramatic reason at all. ‘you can’t be that good a person and well-adjusted’ house adds—he’s not talking about cameron crying over the centrifuge during this scene, he’s still talking about cameron’s decision to marry her dying husband. she was already holding a lot of the same beliefs as in canon when she met her husband.

i think cameron was probably a bit more normal as a teenager, but not drastically different—if anything, she might have been even more puritan in certain regards than she is in canon (like, fuck tritter, but he has a point when he contrasts her decision to sabotage her own college calculus grade with her honesty vs giving him the run round in s3). as chase and cameron say in 2x7 (hunting) while talking about things the hospital might dig up to prove she caught hiv through her own ‘negligence’ if she tests positive—it isn’t like there’d be anything for them to find. so i think high school cameron probably was a bit of a goody two shoes, but not to the extent chase or foreman imagine her to be; she got top grades, and was probably kind of annoying when they had any class debates about morality, but she was still reasonably social and well-liked, even if it was only because she grew up to be conventionally attractive. imo this is probably where cameron’s whole ‘people don’t take me seriously because i’m beautiful and a woman and a bit of a bitch’ complex starts. this is probably a really boring thing for me to say but my attitude towards emptier backstories like cameron’s—i.e where we don’t know anything about her family, her high school, and all the info is focused on her dead husband—is that if that information were central to who she grows up to be, or if it’d be wildly different to what we as an audience would reasonably infer, we’d have been explicitly told it at some point in canon the way we’re told about *waves hand* everything about chase and foreman’s pull-yourself-up-by-the-bootstraps complex. this isn’t to say that cameron’s childhood/college years aren’t interesting to me—they ARE—but moreso that i think they’re kind of deliberately left empty for a reason, and that whatever i can come up with to ‘fill them’ is usually just what’s intuitive to me.

same goes for her arrest btw like logically you can kind of narrow it down (certain things would disqualify her from becoming a doctor/would lead to serious issues down the line) but honestly for me that one is more fun to just leave up in the air. could totally see shoplifting as the reason! part of me is desperate for it to have been a fight/for cameron to have been busted for underage drinking in her first and last high school party or whatever, but it’s more fun to keep us guessing imo.

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Wanted to do this random Adam QnA thing I found on Twitter here cause I thought’s it be fun!

(I encourage you too as well ^o^)

(Credit to the original poster on Twitter of course !!)

100% my Fav, if my Tumblr wasn’t an indicator of that lol. A major reason being that he has so much more to his character than first glance (especially in terms of angst for fics) he very clearly has some self worth issues and puts that into his personality by making himself more palatable to a larger audience would enjoy. (Mean Rockstar persona) Also him looking for validation from Sera was already a huge indicator that there’s more to him than ‘Haha funny evil fat man >:)’ But I do really like Angel, Lucifer, and Vaggie a lot.

Adam ships are complicated for me. Let’s get the obvious ones out of the way, I LOVE AdamsApple, GuitarSpear, and more recently GuitarGate. But While AdamsApple is my major one, I only like it if it’s done right. I dislike when they make, for example, Sinner Adam get treated like garbage by Lucifer and he’s in charge of ‘punishing’ Adam or something like that. IDK the concept just seems toxic, which I know, the ship itself WILL have inherent levels of toxicity, but it still rubs me the wrong way. Just my opinion tho

As for ships I don’t like, I’m pretty open with his ships but one I’m not a fan of is GuitarPrincess. There’s nothing illegal with it, so I’m not going to attack you for it. Im just not a fan of it. Another one is probably Alastor x Adam. I just don’t see it. They both oppose eachother in literally everything. Adam hates Jazz, Alastor loves it. Alastor doesn’t seem to like people more powerful than him and only respect them because he’s afraid of them (just my theory) and he clearly didn’t respect Adam because he completely underestimated how strong the first man would be. but ship what you want within reason OFC

Sigh I wish. I LOVE the concept of Sinner! Adam because IT JUST MAKES SENSE! The whole show is about redemption and how bad of a soul can actually be redeemed in the hotel. Him being reincarnation as a sinner would be both the perfect karma for him, but also the perfect test for Charlie. She couldn’t turn him away, even if she hates him. She’d be a massive hypocrite for letting Alastor work with her and also just general defeating the purpose of a hotel being completely open to all sinners.

But…. Something I’ve had a constant fear for about Adam coming back as a sinner is, that Lute might kill him. I just feel like it’s something that COULD happen as her view of sinners becomes even more warped. I just wouldn’t want that to happen, to bring him back only to kill him would be worse than just not bringing him back at all.

As for what I would want to happen, I’d like to see him and Lucifer ‘reconcile’ and to know more about what actually happened in Eden. With them reconciling, I also don’t want it to be solely on Adam to do, Lucifer also has to be able to accept that he hurt Adam and pretty much fucked him up for life. I don’t want the entire blame of the issue to be on Adam because it just seems like a waste of character development for BOTH of them.

Whether or not Adam will return in season 2… I would say he won’t. I think Abel is there to fill his absence BUT I do think we’ll get him in Season 3 (maybe even teased in the end credits of season 2 maybe?) I do want him to return, but I want it to be handled with care. I want him to have a redemption arc because it’d suck if characters like Lucifer, Vox or LILITH are given a slap on the wrist for what they’ve done in the show. And I ESPECIALLY don’t want them to kill him after he returns or make him a joke character to be bullied 😔

Hmmmm, I’d like to think he’s a good dad for the sole reason that I love Dad! Adam content, but I can see it going either way TBH. Abel seems more open to people and less of an asshole, so he probably thinks of Abel as a Wimp. But I think that his view of Abel was heavily affected by what happened with him and Cain. He could potentially see Abel as nothing but a child because he see’s him as helpless after witnessing his death. (Similar to how Sera sees Emily)

My main and only hope is that they don’t make him an Abusive deadbeat or something (if they do I WILL ignore it lol)

Does this need to be answered if you know me? Here’s my masterlist 😏

I WISH I HAD MERCH OF HIM 😭😭 I’ve been trying to work on a Plushie of him literally all year with my mom but it’s been so hectic that we never got to finish it. We’ve gotten the base design done and only need to figure out blueprint stuff. But he’s currently made of scrap material. If I EVER get him done I will definitely post it here!

Well I have a plethora of them but some main ones are:

He has abandonment issues and has a hard time connecting with people.

Insecure about his looks (Face, BODY, and voice)

Speaking of body, he’s plus size 1000% IM NOT SORRY. That is a Fat Man, 😤

And lastly, he’s a closeted bisexual, you’re telling me he knew who Angel Dust was (a famous GAY pornstar in hell) but not Alastor? One of the scariest, infamous Sinners out there? Really? He has done things he is not proud of, one of which being a man named Steve.

YESSSSSSSS. How can anybody call him ugly, I SWEAR. Mask, hot. His face? Hot. Everything is hot. As for the main thing attractive with his design, with the mask, definitely the LED face, don’t know why, it’s just so NWAOHSKAIAB. And without mask, I loooooove his eyebaggs/eyeliner and also his stubble. It’s just those subtle details of character design that shows that he’s definitely not in the best head space (eyebags, stubble, and paler skin being big indicators of men’s physical indicator of their mental health not doing so hot) so I just love him a lot!

I would like to see him interact with Saint Peter and Emily (they HAVE to have the most hilarious interactions. Those innocent angels meeting the vulgar first man would be a dream come true 😭) and also Abel and/or Cain. If they make him a sinner, it’s more than likely he would have interactions with Cain at some point. Not to mention, I’d like to know how Abel died. Cause in the Bible he was the first human to die, but in Hazbin, Adam was the first. So maybe Cain killed Adam then Abel? Or maybe Abel was sent to purgatory and was only let out after Adam died? Who knows!

(And I can’t put the picture here cause of the photo limit but)

10: What would you do if you met Adam IRL

’ll take him to my penthouse and I’ll freak it. >:)

[illfoandillfie]

A Different Kind of Eduation: R Is For Role Play (Chapter 12)

ADKoE MASTERLIST

Pairing: Professor!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After being broken up with for not being kinky enough, Reader seeks out her professor to give her some private tutoring so she can win her boyfriend back.

Chapter Summary: Reader steps out of her comfort zone. Roger steps into the past. 

Warnings: Modern AU, smut (18+), slow burn romance, dom/sub dynamics, dom!roger and sub!reader, professor x student sex, dialogue heavy, degradation (slut/whore/etc), role play, PIV sex, a littlespanking, restrained wrists

Words: 8,007

A/N: I really make you wait for these don’t i lmao. Originally this chapter had more stuff meant to be in it but while writing it I realised it would end up ridiculously long and tbh I would rather give you 2 short chapters than 1 long one. I can’t make any promises about when the next chapter will be up but it should also be on the shorter side so hopefully that makes it a bit easier to write. 

As always *** indicates the smut scene.

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming@queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave@scorpiogemini

@80s-roger @libsterslobsters @okilover02 @cjand10 @dealorgirl32 @youngpastafanmug @onceuponadetectivedemigod @zeida @demo-wise@yuillfandomqueen @tie-ur-mother-down @rogermyreligion​ 

(idk how many of you are still interested in this fic so if you want your name taken off let me know, or if anyone wants to be added i can also do that)

Once again you found yourself outside Roger’s house, stomach in knots with nerves. Though not the usual nerves. You’d checked the curriculum before you left the house that morning, wanting to be prepared, and the one word that he’d used to describe that week’s lesson had been rolling over in your mind ever since. Roleplay. Somehow the idea of roleplay was more terrifying than all the bondage and spanking in the world could ever be. The arts had never been your forte, and the idea of acting and improvising and playing a character made you feel apprehensive and sweaty. But, you trusted Roger to not force you to do something you really hated the idea of, and so you let yourself in through the front door, as had become the usual custom. You were still providing drinks to accompany the dinners Roger made and, as soon as he saw you, he directed you to grab out a couple of wine glasses from the cupboard. You did so, trying to put your worries about the upcoming topic aside and just enjoy a nice meal with him. Briefly, you wondered if Roger could sense your uneasiness, his gaze settling on you like he was trying to read your thoughts, but then his eyes shifted back to the stove as he asked how your day had been and you gladly accepted the distraction.  

It wasn’t until you were settled at the desk in his study that you felt nervous again. “Okay. Tell me what’s going on, Y/N.” Roger said calmly. You cringed a little that he’d picked up on your discomfort so easily but tried to keep your voice steady as you asked, “Are we looking at roleplay today?” “Yeah, that’s correct. You don’t like the idea?” “I’m doing a biology masters Roger, I’m not an actor. I don’t really want to pretend to get pulled over by a hot cop or whatever.” Roger chucked, “Fair enough. But I’d have thought this would be one you were looking forward to since it’s going to lead up into CNC and all of that.” “It is?” “Mmhmm. I mean, Consensual Non-Consent is just acting out a non-consensual experience. It’s a little more hardcore than the roleplay we’ll start off with, but it is related.”   “Well, when you put it like that...” “A theory lesson can’t hurt, right?” “Depends. The last couple of theory lessons you’ve had me trying prac stuff. What exactly are we going to look at?” “Well, I was going to start off with something easy. We can talk about why people roleplay and go over some of the basic scenarios – the stereotypical stuff like cops and robbers or uh, teacher and student,” he looked mildly uncomfortable but moved passed it quickly, “nurse and patient, that sort of thing. And then we can get into some of the more niche things like petplay and ageplay and then in a couple of weeks, if you’re ready, we can get into CNC and free use and the more intense types of roleplay.” You hummed in thought, “That sounds okay. I am still a little nervous about the more practical side though.” “And what exactly is causing those nerves?” You shrugged, “I already said, I’m not an actor.” “Neither am I. What’s really the reason?” For a half a second you considered arguing that he did have a background in performing for crowds, just with music instead of drama, and so he shouldn’t be allowed to make light of your nerves. But in the end you decided that being stubborn about it would just make him push harder, “I don’t want to look stupid. And I can’t imagine not looking stupid while saying that ive been a naughty girl or whatever you’re going to want me to say.” You could feel your cheeks heat as you spoke and looked down to avoid Roger’s eye.   Roger hummed in thought, “Well, that’s fair enough. No one likes feeling or looking stupid. But, counter point, you don’t have to say anything as cliché as that if you don’t want to. And even if you do say something cliché, I promise it will not feel as stupid in the moment as it would if you said it now.” “Yeah I suppose so, but still.” “Anyway, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s just focus on going over what roleplay is and how people use it in sexual situations. Okay?” You nodded your agreement, hoping that knowing more would help you feel less self-conscious.  

“Right, well, let’s talk about humans for a moment. We’re a creative species. We’ve been telling stories since before writing was invented, it’s in our nature to imagine, to fantasise. So, of course, it’s only natural that those ideas can become sexual. Imagining something allows people to explore desires in a way that’s safe for them, especially if it’s a desire they wouldn’t normally admit to out loud. Its why romance novels are written. Its why people seek out pornography of specific fetishes. So roleplay is a way for people take those imagined situations to the next level, making it more real by actively participating in it. There are a few different forms that roleplay can take. At the most simple it could be wearing a costume associated with a particular role, like a nurse, or with a particular character, like Princess Leia’s slave outfit.” “You’re such a dork.” “That outfit is hot. And it was just an example.” He paused to make sure you weren’t about to interrupt again, “It may just be that wearing the clothes of someone else is enough to satisfy the fantasy, but often there will be a bit more to it. A scenario. You take on those characters and act out a scene. The nurse gives a patient a physical examination, Princess Leia is held captive and tries to bargain for her freedom. There’s some sort of a story involved that the participants act out. And then finally, as an extension of that, there are the taboo roleplays. Things like pet play and age play and CNC. Taboos make people curious, and it’s very natural to think about taboo situations or acts. Roleplaying something taboo gives people a safe way to explore it. And it doesn’t even have to be particularly sexual. Sometimes it’s not about that, it’s just about being someone else, about the feelings you get or the connection with your partner in that unusual situation.” “That makes sense I guess.” “One interesting thing to note is that a lot of the “standard” roleplay scenarios are based in power dynamics,” Roger dropped his hands from where he’d made quotation marks, “a cop has power over whoever they arrested, a nurse has power over a patient, a doctor has power over a nurse. Maid’s serve, kings and queens command, the list goes on. So, why do you think that is?” “Because...Because it’s an easy place to start if you’re interested in dom/sub dynamics?" “That's absolutely part of it. It’s a great way to dabble with kink, to test the waters so to speak. But I think there’s another bigger reason that people, even very vanilla people, might be interested in roleplay. Power dynamics are so prevalent throughout our society. Everyone has a boss; everyone has had an experience with an authority figure. And it is human nature to take something mundane and create a story where it’s more fantastical, more interesting, maybe even less scary. Or, to create a story that switches the power.” “Huh. That’s a really interesting way of thinking about it." “Of course, sometimes getting into a roleplay is how people discover kinks or fetishes and they can be steppingstones to other power based BDSM practices. But I think for most people, roleplay is just something fun that lets them explore something different in an accessible and safe environment. I will admit I did consider starting you off with some roleplay stuff when I was working out the curriculum. I thought that dressing up as someone else might help you feel more comfortable exploring new areas.” “What made you decide to start elsewhere?” Roger shrugged, “I knew that CNC and those areas we’re building to would tie into roleplay and I didn’t want to get too close to them too quickly. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be someone else to enjoy any of it." “I think you made the right call.”

Roger smiled for a moment and then seemed to remember he was teaching a lesson, “Okay, Y/N, I want to posit a theory and I want to know what you think about it.” “Okay,” you said a little taken aback but intrigued all the same.   “I suggest that we’ve already experimented with roleplay.” For a moment all you could do was stare in confusion, “But we haven’t.” “What makes you so sure?” “Because we haven’t been playing pretend or dressing up as anything. What we’ve been doing is real.” Roger looked supremely pleased as if you’d fallen into a trap he’d set. “What if I said that roleplay isn’t playing pretend.” “That's literally what you just said it was. Costumes, pretending to be something you’re not.” “Well, okay yes, a lot of the time roleplay can be about that. And that’s why you can walk into any sex shop and find naughty nurse costumes or sexy school uniforms or, fuck, even a sexy Santa outfit. But that’s just a side effect of roleplay being a way to feel like something you're not. I could still pretend to be Santa with all the double entendres about presents and chimneys even without a set of suspenders and red knickers.” You giggled at the image he’d conjured but Roger mostly ignored you. “The costume just helps the suspension of disbelief.” “Okay, sure,” you said, still smiling at the thought of Roger dressed in holiday themed lingerie, “I don’t understand where you’re going with it though.” “Okay well, let’s look at these basic scenarios we’ve been discussing. They take something mundane or even a bit scary – medical check-ups, having a meeting with an authority figure – and turn them into something fun and sexy. And in the process the people involved can explore things that turn them on but that they might feel wary about doing in a non-roleplay situation. Things like being told what to do, or something a little further like handcuffs or punishment spankings. It allows people a chance to try being more dominant or more submissive or even more hyper-sexual than they let themself be in real life. Thus, it’s a way for them to achieve a different headspace or to feel something they wouldn’t ordinarily let themself feel. And isn’t that just what we’ve been doing too?" “No,” you knew you didn’t sound very certain, but you didn’t want to accept he’d been right too quickly. “Okay, let’s look at an example. Take Daisy and Jo and their slave/master dynamic. In real life, by law, you cannot legally own another person. They can call each other the right names, they can agree on who gets to make which decisions, they can put their names down on a slave registry, they could even get Daisy a barcode tattoo if they wanted to go that far. And yet, Daisy is still her own person, Jo doesn’t really own her. Daisy has a job, she has hobbies, she has a life outside of their relationship, and she has her own thoughts in her head, her own autonomy. And you heard how when that autonomy was taken from her in a previous relationship, it stopped being a kinky dynamic and turned into actual abuse. Daisy and Jo play around with things that make them feel psychologically as if one really is the other’s slave but, in reality, she’s not. So, in that case, roleplay is no less real than other parts of BDSM. Roleplay is just the closest approximation we can get to it being real before it crosses into abusive, illegal or dangerous territory.” “That’s a pretty extreme example though,” you counted, feeling as if you were in Roger’s regular classroom discussing the results of an experiment, “What about a stock standard bondage scene?” “I think it still fits. What a lot of people get out of a dom/sub dynamic is feeling control or lack-there-of, right? And isn’t the bondage just a vehicle for making the submissive person feel as if they have no autonomy or to feel as if they can’t escape? Or for making the dominant feel like they have total control over someone else?” “I suppose so,” “Obviously in a safe, sane, and consensual scene that can’t ever really be the case. The sub always has the right to stop things, to say no. There might even be a physical way for them to get out of the bondage if they need to. The ropes just make it feel less like they have the option to get out. Ergo, it’s a form of roleplay. And we can’t ignore spanking. That for most people spanking is intrinsically tied to discipline. That a lot of the ways spanking is portrayed or thought of, both inside and outside the kink community, is related to punishment. That probably the most common spanking scene imaginable is a schoolgirl being punished by her teacher. Dressing up in a short skirt and long socks and a white blouse and promising you’ll do anything for a better grade.” You swallowed thickly, very aware that you were sitting in front of your professor. Roger seemed almost as flustered as you felt as he paused. He plucked his glasses from his nose and began to clean them on his shirt hem, his voice a little quieter when he spoke again, “And you don’t even have to get that specific with it. Just the idea of spanking as punishment within a sexual scenario can be construed as roleplay. Chances are the person being spanked didn’t really do anything bad enough to warrant a physical beating.” He put his glasses back on and the tension from moments before disappeared, “And yet everyone involved pretends they did because they enjoy the act of spanking or being spanked and because it makes them feel secure in the dynamic they’ve built. The dom is in charge, the sub obeys, there are consequences for stepping out of those boundaries. They perform their roles, and it makes them feel good and sexually satisfied and bonds them.” “Fine, okay, maybe you’re right then. But if this was your attempt to make me feel less nervous about doing a roleplay scene in prac, it’s not worked. There is still a difference between the two...even if it’s not as clear as I thought it was.” “No, you’re right, I do think there is a distinction. But I don’t think that distinction is based on one being more real than the other. And really, it’s up to the individual to figure out where that distinction lies for them. But I also think that if we consider them essentially the same thing, or at least closer related than one initially presumes, it can help you remember one very important fact.” “Which is what?” “BDSM is a conscious choice. And to me, knowing it’s a choice offers so much more safety and security than considering it “real” does. Whether I’m acting as the dom or the sub, it's a reminder that everyone involved has actively chosen to be there and if that desire to be there changes, everyone has the option to say as much. Which ultimately makes things more enjoyable.” You’d already known that Roger cared about your safety and how much you enjoyed yourself, but you couldn’t help but be touched by his obvious enthusiasm for the topic and his sincere way of expressing it. It was something you hadn’t been able to properly appreciate when you first started your lessons, but the more time you spent with Roger, the more he voiced his thoughts on sex and BDSM relationships, the more you found yourself admiring him. It made you feel like you’d definitely picked the right person to learn from.  

“We have two options now. Number 1, we can keep going with theory and look at some more specific areas of roleplay, maybe more taboo stuff like pet play and age play. Give you a sense of where roleplay can lead and how different dynamics like that work. Or, number 2, we can discuss some options for a possible prac scene and, if we can settle on something we both like the sound of, maybe we could try it out. I’m going to leave it up to you though. Whatever you're comfortable with. Although I will say, I would feel better about exploring CNC with you the coming weeks if we’d played with a simpler roleplay before then.” “So I have to roleplay then.” “It doesn’t have to be anything big and it doesn’t have to be tonight. But, yes, I would like it if we did.” “Did you have any scenarios in mind for us to do in prac?” “Nothing picked out but I can offer some suggestions you might like.” “Okay, hit me.” Roger hummed in thought, “I mean, basically anything can be a roleplay scenario. 1950s housewife and her husband, royalty and their servant, strangers meeting at a bar, a couple engaging in an adulterous relationship. Even fictional characters are possible. Are you into superheroes? I could be uhhh, I don’t know, Batman? Save you from some danger and you’re so gratefully horny about it.” You snorted, “Maybe something else.” “Do you want to go with something vastly different from our actual lives or something that’s a bit more familiar?” “Umm, maybe something more familiar would be easier to do without feeling like a complete wanker.” “In that case,” he made a clicking sound with his tongue as he considered your options, “you could be the babysitter I hired to look after my kids. Orrrr, I could be a repairman fixing something for you.” You didn’t hate the sound of either of them but also weren’t totally sure you wanted to do either and made an uncertain noise in response.   “I suppose if you wanted we could do a teacher/student thing.” You shook your head, “That’s too much like real life, I think it’d make me feel weird.” “Okay, good,” Roger sounded relieved, “In that case...maybe something with a similar dynamic but less baggage... a boss and employee? You could be asking for a raise or something like that.” You shook your head again, though more out of amusement than disinterest. “There is always a doctor or nurse thing, we both know biology after all. Or, well okay, this one might be a bit weird but hear me out.” “Okay,” “I could be a rockstar and you could be my groupie.” “Oh,” “Is that a good oh or a bad oh?” “Neither I just wasn’t expecting it. But I kind of like it I think.” “Yeah?” “Yeah. I think I could be your groupie.” “Hanging off my every word,” Roger said suggestively, gesturing between you as if to say just like you are right now. “Willing to do whatever it takes to keep my attention.” “Something like that, yeah.” you laughed, “It seems doable.” “Alright, that’s settled then. So what sort of kinks would you want to include?” “Umm the usual stuff I guess, a little bit of degradation, maybe some spanking.” “Bondage?” “I don’t think I feel like that today. Not anything like ropes or cuffs, but I think I’d be okay with you physically holding my wrists or something.” Roger hummed in thought, “That all sounds very reasonable. Any thoughts to positions?” “Umm, not really. I’d be up for most things I think.” “I think I have some ideas then. Are you ready to get started now?” You were a little torn, the part of you that enjoyed having sex with Roger more than ready to go but the part of you that was apprehensive about acting was more in control, “Maybe a little more theory first. And maybe another drink.” “Okay,” Roger gave you a reassuring smile, “I’ll grab us a top up and then we can talk a bit about where we’re going with roleplay.”

When Roger handed you the glass of wine it was hard not to gulp it down in an effort to quell your anxiety.   “You know if you get too drunk we won’t be able to do any prac and we’ll have to come back to it another night. And I’d have to insist on full sobriety that time.” You narrowed your eyes at Roger and took a smaller sip before putting the glass down, “So what else have you got to teach me about roleplay?” “We might as well start talking about the more taboo forms. I mentioned age play before but I don’t get the sense Dylan is particularly interested in it, so I wasn’t intending on going into detail. All you really need to know is that it’s a form of roleplay that involves someone acting a different age than they are, typically younger.” You’d never seen Dylan look at anything like that before and he’d never mentioned it so you felt confident saying, “Yeah, I don’t think Dylan would be into that.”   “Okay, good to know. The other one I mentioned was, of course, CNC. But I don’t want to start on that until we can dedicate a whole lesson to it because it’s complicated and I want to make sure we cover everything. Which leaves just one other example I gave, pet play. How much do you know about it?” “I’ve heard of it, but I don’t really understand it.” “At its most basic, pet play is a kink in which one or more participants role play as an animal.” You dutifully noted down the definition, the familiar act putting you more at ease.   “Technically it comes under a wider umbrella of animal play, but I think pet play would be the more familiar term to most. There are those that engage in animal play as foxes or wolves or even mythical creatures like unicorns and dragons. But pet play as a specific subsection of animal play revolves around acting as more common animals like dogs and cats and horses.” “So, if it’s taboo and about animals, is it like roleplaying bestiality?” “No. Typically engaging in pet play is, like a lot of role play in general, more about exploring different behaviours and desires, than actually being an animal. Someone who explores pet play as a puppy might be attracted to it because it gives them a space to be playful and bouncy and loose. Or it might be because they really like the dynamics involved in being trained to do something. Whereas a someone roleplaying as a kitten might be interested less in the training and more in physical affection while still being able to play and scratch and bite.” “Uh huh,” you weren’t totally sure you understood it, but it did make pretending to be a groupie sound less daunting. “The other thing with pet play is it’s not always about sex. It’s a fun way to show and receive affection – being petted or groomed, curling up on their partner’s lap, playing silly games, just being looked after.” “That does sound kind of nice.” Roger smiled, “Yeah, it can be. But we can get more into that another time. For now, let’s just stick to human role play.” Roger frowned at his phrasing for a second and you couldn’t help but snort and roll your eyes.   “There’ll be none of that when you’re my groupie,” he playfully scolded, giving you a little wink, “Are you ready?” You took a nervous breath, “as I’ll ever be I think.” Roger gave you an affectionate look, "Give me a couple minutes to get a few things ready and then meet me in my music room.”  

*****

As soon as Roger left you reached for your glass again, downing the wine quickly. You poured yourself another half glass and drank as you thought. Groupies. You understood the basic premise and you could see the appeal in sleeping with band members, in an abstract sense. But you weren’t sure how much of what you knew was even close to accurate. You were mostly going off depictions you’d seen in fiction. Roger definitely knew more about it than you did, even if his band had only lasted a short while. So what would he be expecting you to say? How would he expect you to act? It made your stomach twist uncomfortably and you put the glass of wine down. You didn’t feel much like a groupie. Glancing down at your outfit you thought you probably didn’t look much like a groupie either. But maybe you could fix that, at least a little. Roger had mentioned costumes and outfits as a way to help feel more comfortable in a role play scene so, grabbing your bag, you ducked into the nearest bathroom. There wasn’t a lot you could do with your clothes but thankfully you’d taken to wearing skirts whenever you had lessons. The one you’d chosen fell just above your knees, but you were able to fold the waistband over itself a couple of times to shorten it. The shirt was a little harder to alter since it wasn’t a button up. You experimented a bit with tying it up at the hem but didn’t really like the effect so instead settled for just taking your bra off underneath it. The material was thin enough that Roger would probably be able to see your nipples and that definitely sounded like something a groupie would do. You touched up your makeup and applied some lip gloss you found at the bottom of your bag, and then as a finishing touch you shook your hair out to make it seem a little messier. Looking at your reflection you decided that at least you'd been able to do something to alter your appearance. That was when you heard the drumbeat, Roger’s signal that he was ready for you.  

He didn’t seem to be playing any specific song, at least not one you were familiar with, but the beat did make you feel a little more at ease as you headed toward the music room. Something about the background noise made it a little easier to believe your roles. And seeing Roger made it easier still. The door was ajar as you approached it, but you knocked all the same, pushing it open nervously. You noticed the flannel shirt immediately. It must have been one he’d had for a few years because it seemed worn and faded and a little tight around his upper arms. It was completely unbuttoned, his bare chest visible, and you were immediately reminded of the band photo that had been so popular on the university meme pages.   Roger grinned when he saw you, not even attempting to hide the up and down look he gave you as he twirled his drumstick between his fingers.   The movement immediately caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but be turned on, even though you still felt a little silly standing in his doorway.   “Can I help you?” Roger asked when you didn’t say anything. “Oh, um,” you could feel your cheeks warming as you tried to think what to say, “I just wanted to tell you I loved the show.” You cringed a little at what you’d come up with, feeling it was a little cliche, but it must have been alright because Roger responded with a lazy smile.   “Glad to hear it love. How’d you get backstage though?” You heart stopped for a moment as you internally panicked. Why had you spent so long on your appearance without spending a single moment preparing a backstory or anything useful to say.   “Don’t over think it, you’re doing great,” Roger said, dropping the cocky rockstar act and nodding in encouragement. And then, as quick as it had gone, the rockstar was back as Roger relaxed into his seat again, spinning his sticks absentmindedly. “How’d you sneak in?” “No one stopped me,” you shrugged, unable to come up with anything better on the spot. “Well it’s a good thing. I love talking to fans.” His voice dripped with innuendo, and you found yourself swallowing hard in response.   "I was hoping you’d want to...talk. I’m such a big fan.” Roger beckoned you towards him, “Close the door, love, I’d hate for our chat to be interrupted.” Your stomach did another flip, although a much pleasanter one, as you stepped further into the room. It helped that Roger seemed so at ease playing his role. You could easily imagine him playing for a crowd, flushed and sweaty as he banged out a beat. Even now with shorter hair and more of a dad bod, if he announced tomorrow that he was quitting teaching to go back on tour you would have no trouble believing him. He just looked right behind his drums. Not to mention hot as hell.   “Do you want to touch it?”   “Touch what?” you blurted, worried you’d missed something while you’d been distracted by the thought of a sweaty Roger pounding away at his drums. “My kit of course,” he laughed, grabbing your hand and bringing it to one of the cymbals, “You seemed pretty enamoured with it.” “Oh, yeah, it’s um bigger up close than I was expecting.” The cymbal felt cool under your hand but you had to assume that was partly from how warm you felt, embarrassed both at the cheesy line you’d just said and that he’d caught you daydreaming.   “Not the first to tell me that,” he replied with a wink and an easy suggestiveness that made you feel somehow even more warm. “I could show you how to use it.” “I’d love that,” you gushed, not entirely pretending. The drums did seem like fun.

You let Roger lead you around to his side of the kit, his hands settling nicely on your hips as he guided you to sit on his lap. The whole situation made you feel giggly and for a moment you forgot it was role play, wondering at when you’d got so bold as to hit on a rockstar but glad that it seemed to be working. And it definitely seemed to be working if the semi pressing into your backside was anything to go off. You suspected you were not the only one who’d felt the need to get rid of underwear. Roger’s breath hitched softly as you wriggled against him and he quickly guided his leg between yours, putting you on his thigh rather than his lap. You didn’t mind so much though, especially when he shifted, and his thigh pressed up into your cunt. Roger’s hands meanwhile were also moving, rising up your sides, the light trail of his touch making you shiver and your stomach clench with anticipation as he neared your breasts. You nearly groaned in disappointment when he pulled them away too soon and heard Roger chuckle in your ear as he reached for you hands instead. He pressed the drumsticks against your palms and then wrapped his hands over yours, guiding your movements to bang out a simple beat. The drumming was fun but it was hard to focus when his hands felt so warm and large against yours, and his breath tickled the side of your neck.   “You’re a natural,” You grinned, feeling quite pleased with yourself, until you gasped when Roger pressed his foot down on the kick drum pedal and you bounced on his thigh unexpectedly.   “Too fast for ya?” he asked cockily. You turned your head to try to see him better, “No, I’m a quick learner.” “Well show me what you’ve got then.” His hands moved down to your hips again, pulling you snuggly against his chest. It was enough of a distraction that he had to prompt you again, leaving you flustered as you hurried to comply.   “Harder than that, love,” He said when you produced a much quieter sound than he had, “Really pound it.” He emphasised the word with another stamp of his foot. Your second attempt was better but apparently not quite to Roger’s standards because he grabbed your chin to make you look at him again.   “Do you need me to show you how?” Words completely failed you so you just nodded, your stomach in knots with anticipation, practically able to feel the wet patch growing against his thigh.   Roger’s gaze flicked down to your lips as you both held the moment for a second longer, and then he was surging forward eagerly. His hand moved to your neck as he claimed you, his other still at your waist though his grip had tightened to keep you in place.   The drumsticks clattered to the ground and you couldn’t help the little moan that slipped out into his mouth, finally having an outlet for all the tension that had been building since you entered the room. The sound just made Roger smile, his lips quirking cockily against yours as his hands began to roam, down your thighs, pushing your skirt higher, toying with your undies.   “Don’t need these,” his tone making it clear you should have left them in your bag with your bra, as he pulled them down your thighs.   You raised yourself a little to help him, feeling as if you had to make up for wearing them in the first place. Roger seemed pleased with your initiative, or at least pleased that he could easily access your pussy, his fingers slipping between your lips. “So wet already,” he half moaned, two fingertips toying with your entrance.   You gasped again as he worked both digits into you, pausing a moment when he was around the first knuckle so you could adjust. But he didn’t wait long before he drew them back a little and then pushed them in deeper, and then again, clearly impatient to get you ready enough to take his cock. You were growing impatient too, your head still spinning from his kiss and from how good just his hand felt between your legs. “Rog please,” you whined, trying to sink down on his fingers, though the position made it difficult, “‘m ready.” “Yeah? Ready for my cock, huh love?”   You nodded and groaned, desperate to convince him as he continued fingering you.   Roger just chuckled, “Of course you are. It’s the whole reason you came here, isn’t it. To be fucked by a rockstar.” You nodded quickly, ready to agree to just about anything he said.   “That’s what I thought,” he almost growled as he drew his zipper down and freed his cock. His hands came back to you then and you let him guide you to stand, shifting around so that when he pulled you back down, you were aligned with his cock rather than his thigh.   You moaned as his tip breached you, his cock stretching you much more than his fingers had. But it was a very good stretch and one you were more or less used to by now. You didn’t even mind that he didn’t give you time to adjust, just kept pulling you onto his lap, making you take his whole shaft much quicker than he usually would.  

When you were finally seated fully, legs between Rogers’, your skirt rucked up under his palms, and your pussy stretched around the base of his shaft, both of you moaned almost in unison.   “Fuck, love,” he groaned against your ear, “taking me so well.” The praise made you squirm, and Roger moaned again as you tightened momentarily around him.   “Jesus. Whores like you are my favourite part of this job.” He managed to get out through his heavy breaths. You whimpered, continuing to wriggle in place, Roger’s hands still grasping you making it unclear whether or not you were allowed to move.   “You don’t need to tell me I’m the best you’ve ever had, I know I am.” Roger chuckled, the cocky rockstar act back in full force, “So why don’t you show me how grateful for my cock you are and ride me.” You didn’t need to be told twice, placing your palms against his legs to help steady yourself as you began moving as best you could. You never let too much of him escape your heat, raising up just enough and then dropping your arse back into his lap. As you found a good rhythm, his hands began to wander, squeezing your breasts through your shirt at first, though he quickly pushed the material up until your chest was exposed and he was free to grope you as much as he wanted.   “That’s right, fuck yourself just like that,” he growled, “feel amazing on my cock, love.” The praise only made you moan more, especially since he said it like you were lucky to be pleasuring him at all. But you knew that, despite the attitude, he really meant what he said. He was breathing hard against your neck, making you shiver as he let out little moans each time you sank down on his shaft. And then there was the drum. Roger’s foot was still on the pedal and whenever you tightened around him enough or moved at just the right angle, he'd jolt like he wanted to spear up into you and a sudden stuttered bang would sound. You chased the sound of the drum almost as much as the sound of his moans, both making it seem like he was losing control, like you were cracking through his arrogant attitude.  

But Roger wasn’t going to make it too easy for you. Whether because he was intent on finishing his lesson or he was just so lost in how fucking hot the groupie roleplay was, you couldn’t tell. It added up to the same thing though. He pulled your arms behind your back and gathered your wrists together in one hand.   You whined and halted your movements but Roger tutted at you condescendingly.   “Is my cock too much for you? Maybe one of the other girls could handle me better.” You shook your head, “No, I just-” “Shhh love, I don’t care. Just ride me.” You whimpered but that seemed to amuse Roger more than anything.   “Already admitted you came here for my cock and believe me, love, you’re not the only one. So do what I say or I’ll find another slut who’s willing to do whatever I want.” The thought of him kicking you out before either of you finished was nearly as distressing as the thought of him replacing you with someone else. You quickly began moving again, trying to get back into a good rhythm. It was harder to ride him without the leverage your arms had given, relying on your leg muscles alone as you raised and lowered yourself. But the struggle just made it all the hotter. And Roger must have agreed because he groaned again, even though you couldn’t manage to move as much as before.   “Such a hot cunt,” he moaned, “don’t stop.” You whined as you felt his grip on your wrists tighten but didn’t dare stop riding him even though the effort was making you pant and your thighs were beginning to burn.   Roger’s breath hitched as you next sank down, “M-might have to keep y-ou around all t-tour.” He grunted. The thought made you moan and you found yourself hoping he meant it, hoping you could accompany him on the bus and share his hotel rooms. As if reading your thoughts Roger grunted, “Fuck you when-whenever I want. Y-ou’d like th-at.” It wasn’t a question but you answered anyway, a breathy, “yes,” falling from you as you desperately tried to keep fucking down on Roger’s cock.   Thankfully your unexpected response had an effect on Roger. He let your wrists go suddenly, growling as he manhandled you off his lap. Pushing you to stand, you felt yourself bent forward over the drum kit as Roger took over fucking you.   You braced yourself as much as you could, the drums rattling a little as you leaned on them. Mostly you were just glad your legs were getting a break, and thankful that your cunt was being stuffed at a faster pace. All you could do was moan at how good it felt, and brokenly plead with Roger not to stop. It was perhaps the loudest you’d ever been with anyone, not just Roger, but it wasn’t a conscious decision. They were not the sounds expected from a science major who was in the middle of a sexual awakening with her professor. They were the sounds of an eager groupie. Unashamed and unapologetic.  

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.” As if to prove that he was in charge, Roger paused, holding your hips so tight you couldn’t even squirm on the cock filling you, "Fucking cockwhore, aren’t you love?” You whined but nodded. Roger just chuckled and then picked up where he’d left, one hand moving up your back to hold in you in place as he railed into you, one hand slipping down to rub your clit sloppily.   The tension in your stomach nearly had you sobbing, so close to orgasm, and without worrying about how you sounded, you began begging Roger to make you cum. It nearly pulled him from the scene. He’d hoped you’d get into it, lose your inhibitions and enjoy playing pretend, but he’d not expected to hear anything so wanton from you. He miraculously kept the rhythm of his thrusts, but momentarily lost his voice, managing only a moan at your desperation and then a croaky, “You gonna cum?” It wasn’t nearly as commanding or demanding as he’d been moments before, but he cleared his throat and said it again as a statement rather than a question.   You were too far gone to notice the slip, nodding in answer to both. Roger’s lapse passed and he lay a spank against your arse, “Words, whore.” “Y-yes, yes, ‘m gonna cum. Fuck, please.”   He spanked you again, chuckling at your pussy’s response, before moving back to your clit, his fingers more deliberate this time. “Go o-n then love,” his breathing was heavier, strained from the effort of fucking you as well as his own approaching climax, “Cum on m-y cock and I-I’ll give it to you e-every night – of the tour.” It didn’t take much more than that and the pleasure crashed into you, Your legs trembling as Roger kept fucking you.   He was swearing at how tight you felt, managing to get out half formed thoughts about how desperate for his cum you were and how jealous the rest of the band would be that you’d gone to him. To an observer it would have been unintelligible gibberish. So, it was probably good that you barely registered it, much more concerned with how it felt as Roger came too, his hips pressing against you, his cock pushed as deep as he could get it, filling you with his warm cum.  

*****

You came back to yourself, still bent over the drum kit, still full of Roger’s cock, his heavy breaths hot on your skin as he gently stroked your arm. The embarrassment came quickly after that, your skin burning as you cringed at everything you remembered saying. Roger pressed his lips to the back of your neck, “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” You nodded, half wishing he’d stay put just so you could avoid looking at him for a bit longer.   But he didn’t. He hissed a little as he eased himself from between your legs, apologising when you reacted similarly, and then turned you around, cupping your face in both palms as he kissed you properly, on the lips.   You tried to push your embarrassment aside and enjoy the kiss but it was hard to do when you kept thinking about how ridiculous you must have sounded. In fact, you were so caught up in your head that you didn’t even notice the sound of Roger’s fly being done up or him gently pulling your underwear back up your legs. “Thanks,” you mumbled when you realised, his palms warms where he smoothed the fabric now on your hips, grateful that he’d thought of it before cum started dripping out of you. “Guess I should clean up.” Roger caught you around the waste and shook his head, retaking his seat as he guided you onto his lap again. Only this time you were facing him so he could kiss you more.  

By the time he pulled away you were feeling marginally better, telling yourself if you’d been too much of an embarrassment, he wouldn’t want to make out so soon.   “See, wasn’t that fun?” he asked, his knuckle brushing against your jaw. You made an evasive gesture, “I guess so, yeah.” “C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it when you got so into it.” “I really wasn’t expecting that. I must have sounded like an idiot.” “What? No.” Roger seemed perplexed by your statement, “Try insanely sexy.” “Really?” “Absolutely Y/N. You were perfect. I knew it was going to be fun the moment I saw you’d altered your outfit. Because that meant you were going to give it a proper try.” You smiled shyly, “It was fun.” “There we go, yeah it was!” “I assume it’s not always like that though.” “No,” he shook his head, “I mean, it depends. Sometimes you can be fully emersed in the scenario like tonight, and sometimes you know you’re both just saying lines. But that doesn’t make it less hot. Would you want to experiment more with role play?” You thought about it for a moment, “I guess I’d be open to it.” Knowing Roger, you were sure he’d ask for more details so hastened to add, “I am a little curious about how pet play works now.” Roger seemed surprised, “I was meaning like trying other scenarios – the nurse thing maybe, or... but yeah, if you want to know more about pet play I think I can teach it.” “Oh, I- fuck,” you buried your face in Roger’s neck, feeling likely to die from embarrassment if you opened your mouth again. But Roger just chuckled, rubbing your back softly, “It’s good that you told me, Y/N. I want to know what you’re curious about.” “I guess so,” you said managing to lift your head high enough for Roger to press his lips to your temple, “I'm just curious how it works because it sounds a bit weird. Especially after tonight, cause like, I imagine it’d be harder to feel fully immersed in the scenario when you’re pretending to be an animal. It’s so different from pretending to be a groupie.” “I love that you’re curious. I’ll have the kids from Thursday night until Sunday but, if you want to, we could do this again tomorrow or Wednesday to fit in a bonus lesson about pet play. Would that work?” You nodded, managing to meet his eye briefly but looking down again as you said, “Wednesday would work. And maybe, if I don’t want to try pet play we can do the nurse thing instead.” “That’s a great plan,” Roger smiled, gently tilting your head up so he could kiss you again.   You melted into him, almost disappointed when he stopped. It might have just been a projection of your own feelings but you got the sense that Roger didn’t quite want to stop either.   All the same, he did, his hands lingering. “I should let you go and clean up.” “Yeah,” you nodded, “I should probably be going soon.” It was at least another thirty seconds before his hands left you and you stood up.

[petruchio]

Okay YES!

You said Dolly Parton and that’s EXACTLY what I mean!! She has the quintessential East Tennessee voice and I saw so much of her influence in Rachel’s amazing characterization of Lucy Grey!!

Tbh I think there’s a level there that plays on the current day stigma that comes with being Appalachian. Like I don’t want to act like the image of Appalachia as backwards is unfounded (it’s not), but it’s also wielded unfairly. Like is Appalachia underfunded and undereducated? Yeah. But every community has strengths and weaknesses! In fact diversifying those is good!

By having an accent in the Midwest, I indicated to my peers (no joke) that I must be less intelligent. And this wasn’t entirely new, even in Tennessee, being “from the mountains” was seen as a sign that you must be stupid/backwards.

And there was a spectrum of dialect that they considered acceptable. On multiple occasions I had Tennessee teachers teach me not to accent certain words in certain ways (because that would be inappropriate and hick - which is funny because we all sounded extremely Tennessee, but we didn’t ALL sounds so Appalachian)

So moving to the Midwest and having that “acceptable range” immediately moved to zero was jarring. I’d never thought I sounded like Dolly Parton before, but suddenly everybody I met was mentioning her and asking if I was from Tennessee.

It very much puts you on a stage, and there’s this immense pressure to mitigate it just so you can get off stage. I think there are some intentional links there with the “stage” and preforming that Lucy Grey encounters in the capitol!

Will you try to hide how you talk? Not just your sound but your word order and sentence structure? Your blatant colloquialisms?

Dolly is a very interesting comparison because her answer is generally, no. When Dolly does her thing, the colloquialisms are part of it. She won’t hide, she might tweak some things for the stage, but she clearly retains her identity and culture. (Just like Lucy Grey.)

And we get this layered commentary about the double stage with both of them!

There’s the stage they’re put on as outsiders. Moments like “only her pearly white bones” (such a southern thing to say lmao) show this off. Lucy Grey’s world is a stage now, it’s felt that her differences are othering, but still she throws out a colloquialism. Dolly is similar, even “off stage” she’s being judged for her background and is forced to preform. Yet she chooses to retain some the most othering characteristics, just like Lucy Grey.

Then of course, on an actual stage with a guitar and a song, Dolly and Lucy Grey have incredibly similar stage personalities. “Is that for me?” “I stopped drinking when I was 12!” “It’s to clear my pipes!” Lucy has never expressed an interest in alcohol, or even mentioned it prior - but she plays it up for the crowd, and the fact that they know it’s untrue is half the joke. That’s incredibly similar to Dolly, if there’s one thing Dolly Parton will do it’s tell a joke before her set.

So I think your Dolly comparison is super interesting and that there are layers there I’m not even thinking of atm. (I feel like I’m in front of a conspiracy board right now, but idc bc you really got me thinking!!)

I also think this could be related to your thoughts on Lucy Grey as an inversion of Peeta! Like I can’t help but think back to that moment before their first game where he says something like “I wish there was a way to maintain my identity.”

Like choosing whether or not to hide those Appalachian traits is a thing people struggle with to this day! I remember sitting in front of the mirror and practicing not a “non accent” & not jutting out my jaw when I spoke (catch Rachel Zegler doing exactly that - performance of the century)

Even beyond speaking, cultural norms like not trusting cops and insistently sharing food with everyone (also asking for food never being rude), knowing your neighbors personally and being familial with them, (“you think I don’t hear your stomach growling Jessup Diggs?”)

Even choosing to find Jessup immediately and sharing everything with him! (Coryo’s face when he said “are you going to share everything I give you with him?” 😭 Like, yeah. seek help sweetheart)

(There’s also the obvious theme of validity between different lifestyles. Like, I’d rather be uneducated than allergic to sharing. Yeah Lucy is a bit backwards but all the funding and education in the world didn’t teach Coryo not to be a selfish bitch??? So like?? Hmmm. Maybe there are many ways to live?? Anyways!)

When it comes down to it, Lucy Grey will do what she needs to do to survive. But the forefront of her mind is maintaining her identity, maintaining her humanity. Which may or may not be palatable to the Capitol audience, and may or may not immediately other her, etc. Peeta is doing this too - unlike Katniss and Coryo who are in survival mode - Lucy Grey and Peeta are concerned with their identities. They both choose to play it up for the audience, but also remain dedicated to keeping that humanity (as they know it) intact. So it plays super well to have that identity be such a culturally distinct existing one!

Anyways!!! Just some thoughts!

oh wow what a gorgeous ask! i don't know that i have that much to add but this is one of those asks that just must be published because you've said so many beautiful, fascinating things here.

i think the thing that really strikes me in your piece is the way you've hit on so many hidden markers of class in american society and identified so many of the subtle ways in which accents denote a particular class background or education level. (and love your acknowledgement of the ways in which structural inequality is baked into these stereotypes. because, like most inequalities, class is real and not real (wink wink) at the same time. it's an external construction -- it's not in any way intrinsic to humanity -- but it has very real effects that ripple through almost every aspect of our lives. we have to be able to hold both of those truths at the same time in order to unpack and combat the effects. and yet i think you've also framed it so beautifully that it's also important to embrace our differences as unique but beautiful threads that make up the fabric of humanity. lovely. but let me get back to the point.)

i think this discussion of accent and class is so interesting because i think it's something we hear a lot about in british english, but it isn't as often spoken about in the united states, and seeing it all laid out here is really illuminating!! and that, to your point, makes it all the more special that rachel zegler (and the filmmakers) made such a conscious effort to preserve lucy gray's accent in the film -- because all those subtleties that you just pointed out are present in a way that they might not be (or at least, would be harder to parse as a viewer) had they just had everyone speaking in the standard californian/hollywood american accent.

and to your point about class and performance... WOW! YES! i love the way you teased out that connection between lucy gray, dolly, and particular accents as being both markers of performance and authenticity. because there is this sense that your accent would be you at your most "authentic" you -- and thus adopting the accent of those around you is "performative" -- but then when you think about the ways those markers of class are so pervasive, to suggest that "authenticity" is even relevant might come into question. it kind of ties back into the post i made earlier about snow and katniss both understanding the ways in which poverty forces someone to "perform" the role of a wealthier (or more comfortable) individual, and playing an accent up or down is another extension of that. so in that way, it's interesting that lucy gray makes absolutely no effort to do that -- she's performing, but she's NOT performing. she's being authentic and playing a role at the same time. she's both; she's neither. she's alive but she's dead, etc -- she's a mystery.

i loooove the way we're connecting this to dolly too! because for me, when i think of dolly, i think of someone who saw the way the world was perceiving her, and rather than trying to squash that down and become more palatable to the masses, she tapped into all those things she was being mocked for and said: "you think you can make fun of this? i'll do you one better -- i'm in on the joke." and that's kind of the magic of dolly, that she's in on the joke, and she's having fun doing it. you can't help but love her for it; she projects such a confidence in herself and her persona, and it's part of her magic. she KNOWS it's a costume -- and that's kind of the whole point.

and i guess there's a way in which that's kind of the brilliance of lucy gray as well -- that she's in on the joke. she's in on the game. and nobody expects that of her. because the point of the games is to show "true human nature" but lucy gray identifies, from the minute she's called on stage at the reaping, that nothing is authentic about the games at all. because nothing is authentic about LIFE. everything is constructed, everything is performative. it's about realizing and acknowledging that, and breaking down the assumption that there is any "one true human nature" -- because there isn't. we're just here for a good time. we're here to make art, to make friends, and then maybe at the end of it all, we can say that we sure did put on a good show. for ourselves and for our communities.

maybe we wrote one great song -- and maybe that one great song will matter, someday, to someone. maybe it will be our song that changes the world <3 and that's why we keep trying.

[randomnameless]

@zevfern replied to your post “@zevfern replied to your post “If i may provide a...”:

A whole post to reply to my comment? You shouldn't have 🥰 I wonder if it's possible with magic to replace organs in people's bodies, because in that case Sitri could have been developed like an IV baby and then at some point during her gestation she would have the Crest Stone implanted into her. Buy left does have a heart, it's just not being used, so maybe it's the same case with Sitri? I don’t know, I just don’t want to believe the homunculus theory because it makes Rhea look really shitty (and gives Edelgard serious ammunition to use against her)

​it's because i have many thoughts and the comments aren't long enough lol

TBH the homonculi theory could be a bit fucked up... but then, again, to Nabateans who were also "created" by someone and not "born" (as in Sothis didn't meet a Mr. Sothis and they held hands and what not) I do not think the sheer idea of creating life from scratch is that taboo (or maybe it is since only Sothis is supposed to do it?).

In the most charitable reading, Rhea makes a "being" using her mother's recipe but since she's not her Mother Rhea's "creation" isn't a "full nabatean", then when the "being" wakes up and has a different consciousness than Sothis's, Rhea feels like she failed but, if Citrus is any indication, gives them names and let them live like random humans (or even as her own children).

I think the most "grey" factor could be Rhea's reasons and motivations to create "artificial beings", but someone already pointed out how, irl, we know some people have a baby for, at first, some sort of selfish reasons, like giving a playmate to a first born, rolling for a boy/girl, wanting to have a kid to bring a couple closer, wanting to have a heir, etc, etc.

And yet, wanting to create "a being" to be a vessel for the Goddess isn't, imo, an acceptable reason to, well, "create a being" (maybe that's what Rhea meant by breaking taboos? Or it was the sheer act of mimicking Sothis?) and yet, regardless of the reasons behind those beings's existence, as far as we know for Citrus, when they do not fulfill the role they were created for, instead of throwing them in the trashcan, Rhea loves them as their own beings, supports them as they live in her home and interact with people : aka live.

I'd find this argument rich coming from "devoted fans" especially as it is heavily implied Ionius had children either to get one with a major crest, or said children were a "consequence" of his philandering - dude had 11 I think - and who could "only watch" and close his fist (if you follow the theory that he wasn't the one who foddered them!) when said children were experimented upon.

In a series where sleazebag dads at least had one exposition line about "being good dads to their kids before possession/following an evil cult" (FE7, FE14 and FE17 iirc?) Supreme Leader has nothing of the sort to say about her dad...

Which ultimately leads to the question about what is worse, creating a "tool" and considering "it" like your own child after its birth, or fathering children to use them as tools ?

[softbean]

me psychoanalyzing the veth origins comic panel by panel like a madman

(aka a journey in real time of aurie discovering her headcanons are actually canon)

I haven’t finished the campaign but I could swear Sam has never explicitly confirmed Veth hated the way she looked, not only as a goblin but also as a halfling. Every time her ugliness has been brought up it’s in the context of her being TOLD that she was ugly by other people, but this is the first time I recall it being confirmed that she also believed she was ugly.

Kinda hammers it home for me that the bullying she endured isn’t just a background part of her story, a meet-cute kind of setup for her to kiss kiss fall in love with Yeza, but something that is still relevant, and something she still carries as a scar into adulthood. Def mentioned in canon, but never emphasized like it is here.

Another indicator that she felt alone and unloved in her family, to the point where she didn’t consider her actual family a “home”.

Yeza must have been the first person to accept her and show her love, and she sort of clung to that little piece of happiness she had for the first time. She is trying to rewrite the pains of the past with new experiences, which in itself isn’t anything unhealthy, but I truly wonder how much of her faith she put into yeza’s ability to love her, as opposed to how much faith she put into her own lovability.

Something that suddenly pierced my mind when I saw this panel is “I wonder why Veth was transformed into a goblin girl as opposed to a grown goblin woman like the rest of these goblins here.”

I have my own theories, and it’s the same one I spout every time, but I firmly believe Veth’s curse is a metaphor, and a reflection of her truest fears and insecurities.

Not “I know you have it in there”, but “I know you have one in there”.

I like to think she’s never really been brave before, and even yeza knows. or, there really isn’t much of an occasion for her to show her braveness (even though to me she shows it every day just by living, choosing to live). this implication that yeza’s never seen her brave side before makes me think she must rely on him and his strength quite a bit in this relationship.

Losing all of her happiness that she had worked so hard for...she can’t go through that again. Parallels are being drawn here. Those who made her unhappy before, and those who make her unhappy now. Bullies.

What a powerful line. It’s uncertain whether she truly means it or not (I would argue not). But by choosing to forgive, she is taking back the power that these bullies stole from her. Even contemplating the idea is powerful. I would say she says this to the goblin right after the panel where she resolves to not let this happen again as a way to try to appeal to the goblin’s humanity.

It doesn’t work. She discovers she and the goblin are more alike than she imagined, which makes the fact that the goblins know what they’re doing is evil and simply don’t care even more infuriating.

Breaks my heart to know she learned lock picking to get away from her bullies, but I should’ve seen this one coming tbh...

As soon as she does the brave thing (splash acid on the goblin) she breaks down and loses her courage again. Goes to show just how far she’s come as present day M9 nott/veth who, quite frankly, has rarely shown a moment of cowardice...

Hoooly shit. Seeing this line being said visually is cementing something in my brain.

Isharnai doesn’t know anything about Veth. She wasn’t asked to “turn her into a goblin”. She was asked to “make her suffer”. And knowing how when Yasha walked into her hut to offer her misery in exchange for Veth’s curse to be broken, and Isharnai immediately told her she was already miserable and had nothing of value to offer, we can imagine that Isharnai has some sort of distinguishing vision. And so she took a look at Veth, someone who believes she is ugly, believes she is a coward, and turned her into the manifestation of her worst nightmares.

And you know what struck me? The reason why she was turned into a goblin girl was because Veth finally found some semblance of control in her adult life, after having suffered a childhood being shoved around by others more powerful than her. Reducing her back to the state in which she was most traumatized is making her suffer.

Take a good look.

The river is a mirror. The person she really is, someone wonderful, someone who has built a life of her own, that person was drowned. In her stead Veth became the person she believed she was, hideous, cowardly, and not good...

with no control over herself once more.

Her greatest fears, reflected at her, made true. The punishment was tailored to her.

YOU GUYS I WROTE THE ABOVE TEXT BEFORE I EVEN GOT TO THIS PAGE. IM SCREAMING. THEY JUST SPELLED IT OUT. I DONT EVEN HAVE TO ANALYZE ANYMORE SKDSKDJSJKDJKSDJKJ

God...she is so good. This just shows how empathetic she is in nature. Even at this point she believes she is at fault, that she did something wrong through self-defense. It’s also interesting that at this point she can’t distinguish between right and wrong.

nothing to say here besides i just love this panel

EVEN THIS IS GIVING ME FEELINGS

That’s all folks...this has been a ride. basically what i’ve learned is that all my headcanons have now been established as canon--and I’m really glad, I’m really glad this comic spelled out a lot of the meaning behind veth’s character that I find is hard to firmly grasp in the actual show, and often gets lost or forgotten in fandom discourse about veth.

(I also feel soooo damn justified in some creative decisions i make about her in my fanfic but that’s just my little glowing moment of like, I interpreted things correctly before they were explicitly confirmed...!!!)

anyway. NOTT THE BRAVE ICON. SAM RIEGEL LEGEND. THAT’S ALL!!! Thanks for reading <3

[millenari]

if you aren't tired of "bitching" about the broadway revival, what are your thoughts on the changes to tugger's number? i find a lot of the characterization in the choreography got destroyed but i'd like to hear your take

My first problem with Tugger's number happens before the song even starts.

It's that little bit they changed, where Munk sings the 'Jellicles ask because Jellicles dare / who will it be?' and then Tugger echoes him for the start of his song. I get why they added that bit (to strengthen the plot, to remind the audience that the Jellicle Choice is the point of all of this) but I've mentioned why I dislike the idea that the cats are ALL competing for the Choice before, and of all of the cats I think reasonably Tugger ought to be least interested in the honor. So having him echo Munk as if indicating interest in being the Choice is bleh to me.

Believe it or not I don't hate Tugger's new number… I don't like it, but I don't dislike it as much as Jenny's number. Given that John Partridge's Tugger in particular is so iconic & beloved, nothing they were going to do was going to satisfy me (or most of us tbh) and I admire that they tried to go at Tugger's character at another angle instead of trying to blindly recreate something they knew they wouldn't be able to recreate.

That being said. I don't like it. In Cats, the way a cat moves is indicative of their personality. The styles they're assigned speaks of their nature, I mentioned that in the Gumbie post: Jenny has tap because it has more of a militant vibe than flowy ballet. Victoria's very romantic and sensual subplot does get flowy ballet. The dances/songs that Bomba leads are all jazzy and sensual and provocative like her. I could go on. Tugger in particular is based off of the glam rockers of the 70s and 80s. He's a rockstar, and like those rockstar figures he's sexual, provocative, unapologetic, wild, fierce, ambiguously bisexual--

He's confident and horny. Let’s put it at that. And the way he moves and dances reflects that. He doesn't crawl much, (In 98 he doesn't crawl ever I don’t think), he struts when he moves, his 'default' position has his hands on his belt right near his crotch, like a solid 30% of his choreo in Lynne's version is hip thrusts… That's how he's been characterized for a long time. In the Bway revival, they take him in a different, less slutty direction.

& to be frank, you usually would have immediately lost me at 'less slutty' but I'll admit that some of the heavy-eye-contact-plus-pelvic-thrust elements of 98 are a little. Weird. So I do protest removing the sexuality from his number (not only because I'm pro-horny and not only because I respect Gillian Lynne's horndog vision but also because I think it's vastly unfair that the Macavity number is barely touched but this one is toned down pretty aggressively. Even in the Bombadance the female dance is present and just as sexual (you know, the bending over part) but the bit where the boys join in is pretty much removed. Why are women shaking their asses as objects to be admired acceptable but abstract depictions of actual sex/sexual elements aren't? Ugh.) buuuuut I see why they would have wanted to change it. Less slutty doesn't inherently mean less good, after all, right? And he is still a little slutty, it's not like they Kids Bop'd him.

But then they also add this element of insecurity to him. Where original Tugger is oftentimes unshakable, Revival!Tugger tries to slap the shit out of Munk and Alonzo for delivering the 'terrible bore' line (And usually I prefer Misto having this line but plenty of productions give it to these two instead so whatever), he hisses at the group of cats sliding up on him near the end, and you can see him kind of primping in the background when Old Deut is announced, like he's nervous.

This… is fine, I guess. Giving your characters more depth is usually not a bad thing, but I protest Tugger + insecurity on the grounds that

A) Bomba and Demeter's (the main Female Horny Cats) sole interesting skill is apparently flirting, and yet Tugger (the main Male Horny Cat) has to have all these hidden depths, and

B) this element in addition to how they seemed to be deliberately casting (for the bway revival AND us Tour 6) Tugger as younger-sounding and also kind of sillier, he comes off more to me as somebody's lost fratboy who needs therapy instead of a famous star. And it really leaves me questioning why all these characters are supposed to like him so much when, again, he kind of gives the impression of being a bratty frat boy.

So yes, I agree on the characterization. I admire that they tried something new, but I just don't really care for what they tried, and I think the changes actively work against the core of the character, which is: the obnoxious horny guy with so much charisma and confidence that he keeps pulling anyways.

But enough on Tugger, onto the actual song.

I really like the layout of the classic Tugger number because everyone is pretty finely split up by how they think of him. You've got:

his baby fangirls on his left doing their cute little fangirl dance

his hornier, older fans just to his right (Plato in the front) who are doing a dance that's a bit more provocative

his backup buddies on the far right who seem to be less attracted and more deferential to him

a group of cats just behind him doing a dance that strikes me as neither particularly sexual nor particularly platonic (who melt into the previous two groups during certain sections of the song)

the elders in the far back, watching on with disapproval

Bomba, Munk, and Misto, who each watch on alone(ish), indicating perhaps that each of them has a unique relationship to Tugger there.

(Sometimes there are additional watching cats, depending on how the number is set up. In 98, Alonzo also watches him alone, as well as Cori).

But I love how after only a minute or so of watching, you can tell what the majority of the cast thinks of Tugger, and who agrees with who. It's super efficient storytelling. In Broadway Revival Tugger, pretty much everyone is one of Tugger's backup dancers. There are some elements of Elder Disapproval (Jenny standing up to him, Skimble trying to shoo others away) and you can see some sections of the dance are the girls fawning over him while some are the boys backup dancing for him, but they're real quick. The song has a lot of [group of cats do a dance near Tugger] [group of cats move away] [Tugger spends a couple seconds there just kind of doing nothing] [another group of cats come up] [repeat]. Compared to the classic, there's not a lot going on, and yet it still feels more disjointed.

So anyways, the song starts, Tugger poses for Google Earth, (always taking pictures), some cats come and go & backup dance for/with him, Alonzo and Munk do the terrible bore and nearly get slapped for it, Jenny and Skimble try and fail to interrupt, and then Bomba's section happens.

I don't like this part especially; it bothers me that Tugger and Bomba don't really dance with each other during her section. They just sing their lines while staring at each other and kind of walking around. Not only does it feel kind of boring, but I really love that butt-to-butt dance they do in the original, and it makes me so sad that it was removed. [smacks fist against desk] it was SO bisexual. So, so bisexual…. Plus having Bomba kneel in front of Tugger for the following 'nah' is so strange, because honestly it looks more sexual than Tugger dipping her, and makes it way less obvious that he's rejecting her after (potentially) leading her on. I'm not sure a first-time viewer watching from far away would even realize he's saying no to her. Also this section includes the entire(ish) cast lining up behind Tugger in two different ways over the course of like 15 seconds. Why.

Then Tugger admires himself in the mirror after 'Horrible muddle'— which is fine, but I like it less in conjuncture with the self-esteem thing. After that comes the little dance break, which is my favorite part of the whole song.

First, I love having Plato and Victoria doing a little dance in the background, it kind of builds up to their later dance and I think the idea of them bonding over liking Tugger is the cutest. Second, I love the Tuggoff dance that happens at the same time.

It's weird, because a lot of the time I look at the bway changes and I can't really figure out if the new choreo means anything or is trying to say anything the way the original often was. (Like that screenshot I posted just a couple paragraphs up. Why is everyone lining up behind Tugger? To show that they're all on his 'side' in regard to his interaction with Bomba? Why do they do it twice? The answer is probably just 'because it looked cool'. Tragically.) But this little Tuggoff dance is weird because it’s one of the few sections where I can easily make a guess as to what they were trying to say do/say with the choreo. I talked about it in the tags on this post, I won't type it all up again.

Tugger deliberately passing by his attention-hungry fans and grabbing Misto chilling off by himself, and then pulling him into the literal spotlight is just so on point to their relationship I made a post about the same concept not too long ago. Like this whole idea of Misto being the only one to give Tugger the space he needs and Tugger returning that sentiment by giving Misto all of the attention and spotlight he needs, is just. 10/10. No notes.

After that point I don't have much commentary. Everyone dances together for the end: I don't love that part but that's mostly just me not liking the overarching style of the new choreo than anything to do with this number in particular. I also don't like the new ending but I can't really pin down why, so I think it's just me not liking change? I'm not sure.

So yeah, don't love it, don't hate it. I have to say though: I think it's kind of incredible how this choreo has already aged in comparison to the original. The bit after the mirror where Tugger basically nae-naes makes me want to beat my head against the wall due to Cringe, and that choreo is only like 8 years old! The original is nearly 40, and it still stands up fine! It's just wild how much effort they put into making Cats 'modern' and before a decade has passed those changes are already dated!

(Though I think the cats taking a 'selfie' with the big prop camera at the end was kind of hilarious. Maybe we can have some modernization.)

[the-rainbow-lesbian]

Yes I agree. I didn’t know her personally either, but I was surprised at her prefacing those messages with autistic “grey” and “nuanced” thinking when in my own experience and every autistic person I know, despite how different we are and despite to which degree we exhibit certain traits, the opposite is true.

People on radblr also have homophobic beliefs just like every other community, usually in the same package they held in their TRA days if they were into gender ideology, or in some new version of political lesbianism (I’ve seen some bi women say they’re lesbians after getting into radical feminism, which … if you needed feminism to discover that then…you’re not). Like either you believe lesbians can be attracted to males or not. There’s no “nuance” there. “A lesbian can be with a man if that man is trans identified and they both have extremely specific life circumstances blah blah” okay so you believe lesbian can be attracted to and want to be in a relationship with a man? Even if you struggle with black and white thinking, surely you must accept that the idea of exceptions to homosexuality is simply homophobic? Overall just extremely baffling reasoning to say you struggle with black and white thinking therefore bisexuality can be homosexuality ??? What are you even saying?

maybe there are autistic people who don’t struggle with black and white thinking but grey thinking isn’t an indication of autism but black and white thinking is.

tbh when I was still in my “I am a radfem but I’ll try to be kind uwu” era I still didn’t think any lesbian could be attracted to a TIM because I as a lesbian would never find a TIM attractive, it’s in the name homosexuality. maybe a bisexual woman can’t exactly understand since it’s not her experience but how do you have lesbian friends and spend time on radblr where lesbians reblog posts and even make receipt blogs about the cotton ceiling and not think “hmm maybe I should listen to them”

[r0gerr0ger]

I’m thinking some more whether the people of Mandalore/the Mandalore system would accept Death Watch…

So we see that when the Shadow Collective launches their attack and makes it out as if Death Watch are protecting the people against the invaders, the crowds call out in support of Vizsla.

But after this, there’s no indication from the actual people of Mandalore what they want.

(When Ahsoka and the 501st help with the siege of Mandalore, some members of the public criticise the involvement of the Republic/Clones- but it’s understandable in that respect why they wouldn’t want the Republic’s help in their internal affairs)

So there’s extremely limited suggestion either way how the public would feel about Death Watch actually ruling them/about a return to their violent past.

If you look at historical precedent, it’s very easy for capital cities to get swept up quickly in political turmoil (think 19th century Paris for example). If there was a sudden and incredibly violent attack from outsiders on Sundari, and Death Watch seemingly sweeps in and easily defeats them, it’s reasonable that the masses would be swayed by this. Certainly, anyone over the age of 30 would have a very complicated relationship with their people’s martial past, and may be more accepting of Death Watch/may be more willing to act very violently against the attackers.

Additionally, we’re working with a context of months/years of tension in Mandalore with Death Watch attacks, corrupt Almec, and a war across the galaxy. This has probably somewhat destabilised Satine’s rule- it would effect even the greatest leader tbh.

However, there’s no call to actually overthrow Satine. There’s no call to change governments. There’s only a desire from the people to end their current suffering, and Death Watch manipulates the situation to make it appear as if they are the saviours.

(also: we only see a small segment of the population in the crowds during Satine’s speech. I doubt that made up all of Sundari, let alone the rest of the planet and system. The types to go to a political rally are often more radically inclined. And knowing Vizsla’s tactics, who’s to say there weren’t plants in that crowd trying to drum up support?)

Even Bo, a fervent Death Watch member, immediately balks when Maul establishes himself as leader. I’m sure if the people knew that this was all an orchestrated set-up, their support would collapse.

The people were mislead that Satine had fled. Supporters of Satine were massacred following Vizsla’s rise. And after his death Almec was put in as PM- someone who only a year/years(?) earlier had injured/killed(?) children for his own gain.

Would Mandalorians seriously support all that? I don’t know, but I don’t think so.

There’s no evidence either way really, but I like to believe that people in the capital got swept up in the situation, but in the long-term (once the dust had settled and people realised they were now led by violent people) I can’t imagine support would have continued.

Some thoughts about Satine’s pacifism…

(it’s been a while since i’ve watched her episodes of tcw forgive me if i’m totally wrong)

So she’s often labelled in this fandom as an absolute pacifist. She gets a lot of stick for it for some people, others respect it, etc…

But is she an absolute pacifist?

What do others think? Because I’m not so sure…

Our only evidence (i think) is her refusal to involve herself in the galaxy-wide war. Obi-Wan and others criticises her for this, but honestly was it not the best decision she could have made? The Clone Wars were decimating planets, systems, and politics- and as a system only twenty years fresh from civil wars that destroyed their world, why would they involve themselves in another?

But!- I don’t see why this makes her an absolute pacifist, or why people believe she wouldn’t stand up for her own people.

As far as we’re aware, to end the Mandalorian Clan Wars, she likely had to engage in brutal warfare at a young age. She witnessed death and destruction and wanted instead to bring peace to her people.

Yet even while bringing peace, there was still a police/army force of some kind on Mandalore, that we repeatedly see willing to involve themselves in conflict to protect others (I’m pretty sure sometimes at Satine’s request right?)

So she’s not willing to kill with her own hands? Someone’s personal opinions don’t have to dictate (shouldn’t, often) the way they rule. And considering the trauma of her younger years, it’s no surprise she doesn’t want to.

She sends her enemies into exile instead of killing them, and leaves them be. It’s essentially cannon that Death Watch posed almost no actual threat to Mandalore until Maul involved himself with them- so why would she attack or kill them?

Maybe it’s my own beliefs influencing this take on Satine (I would call myself a pacifist to a certain degree) but I feel confident that if she’d survived Maul’s or the Empire’s take-over, she would never have been willing to stand by as her people suffered, and would have taken the planet back no matter the cost to her own happiness or peace.

(Saying that, if the population of Mandalore were more than happy to have Death Watch lead them (which we never really get context on) I think she would resign herself to defeat.)

What do you think? Is she an absolute pacifist? Is she not? Would she be willing to sacrifice her pacifist beliefs to save her people?

[bkghq]

this is a self indulgent fic tbh,, ive been feeling kind of off lately so i wrote this :D

Bakugo could read you like an open book, there was no way in hell that you were going through something and he didn’t realise. But sometimes, even a perfectionist as him, who prided himself in being the best boyfriend could read it all wrong.

The past few days your anxiety had been really acting up, making you feel as lonely as ever. the feeling of being useless and no one liking you, gnawing you. it was a cycle really, you woke up manifesting for a better and fresh day, the day went well and then out of nowhere the feeling of utter loneliness hit you.

You wanted to talk to someone you really did, but it was so fucking difficult. you were well aware that until and unless you didn't express you emotions no one would really understand what you’re going through, but something- something inside you wanted to be loved and consoled without having to ask for it.

Either if it was by your friends or your boyfriend.

Bakugo noticed ofcourse he did, but he didn't want to invade your personal space. so he gave you a few days to yourself, he wanted to ask you, really badly on what's going inside that pretty head of yours but he didn’t want to push any buttons, so he waited.

He waited for a few days, not realising how bad it had gotten in your head, and how toxic it was for you, your own brain making you feel all sorts of things.

One day after work bakugo came back home, expecting to be greeted by your grinning form engulfing him in a hug and a sweet kiss, but instead he was met with a silent dark house. All the lights turned off which was unusual because you’d always turn the lights on as soon as it was dark outside.

Bakugo frowned, removing his shoes he made his way instead, calling your name softly. he checked the kitchen, in hopes of finding you there making a quick snack, but to his avail you weren’t.

He totally expected you to be in the living room watching some shitty ass show or playing video games, he hoped that you’d just lost the track of time doing whatever you were on the TV. however, again to his badluck the TV was turned off and the living room was pitch black.

 Upon entering your shared bedroom he finally found you. you were nestled in a head of blankets, sniffling, clearly indicating that you’d been crying.

bakugo frowned before calling your name gently as to not startle you, “….y/n?” 

he though failed in doing so because you flinched at his voice and sat up abruptly, attempting to wipe your tears to not give away that you’d just been balling you eyes out, but failing miserably because your eyes were blood shot.

“katsuki? oh god ‘m so sorry i didn’t realise how late it got, shit!” you cursed standing up from the bed, so you could greet your man, however bakugo beat you to it, for he quickly held your wrist gently and sat you down.

“‘ts a’right….” he gulped cupping your both your checks in his calloused hands, and wiping the remaining tears away, “knew you weren’t feelin’ okay…but shit baby, didn’t knew it got this bad.” he softly said, picking your hands that were earlier in your lap, and kissing your palms.

Your eyes widened at his words, a fresh set of tears stinging your eyes again, threatening to fall. you opened your mouth to say something, but bakugo placed his finger on your lips.

“‘m not g’na ask what’s wrong, you don’t need to explain shit to me baby, jus’……jus’ lemme hold you yeah?” he patted your head, before removing his shoes and laying down on the bed, opening his arms wide and motioning you to join him.

you sighed and accepted his embrace. yeah, this is what you wanted, to be loved without having to tell what’s exactly wrong, because honestly, you didn’t know what was wrong either.

the spiralling thoughts in your head choked up again, a sob caught at the back of your throat causing you to let out a whimper and snuggling closer into bakugo’s arms.

“shhh, ‘m here now, ‘m here f’you.’ he cooed kissing the top of your head his hair scratching your scalp in a loving manner as he spoke ‘i love you”’s in your ear.

he cuddled you whispering sweet words of love in your ear, and before you knew it you were deep asleep, probably the best sleep you’d gotten in ages. bakugo sighed closing his eyes tears stinging in his own eyes.

he was here for you, and he was ready to prove it until his last breath. bakugo katsuki couldn’t always tell what was going in that pretty head of yours, but he was sure as hell ready to fight whatever demons were killing you inside because he was your knight in shining armour.

THNX 4 READING <3 RBS + COMMENTS APPRECIATED ໒꒰ྀི ⁰́꒳⁰̀ ꒱ྀི১