#i fear this may be slightly mid but whatever

[z0mbatz]

infamous doomed yaoi pose has claimed two new victims…

[ozzgin]

Ok, could I just say I LOVE how you write for your Baki characters, they're always a treat 🥺✨️

May I request another prehistoric reader, but when they revived her along with Pickle, she just looked so roughed up that she looks like the definition of surviving

What could cause such scars? Well they wouldn't have to wait long since turns out she's like really clumsy, like "nearly losing an eye by tripping on air and onto a metal pole" clumsy

Pickle just has to be by her side every time to catch her before she actually lose something

I love the idea! I can definitely picture it, thank you for the suggestion and the kind words!

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Clumsy Reader

Featuring Pickle and his challengers and one tough looking reader that turns out to be just extremely clumsy.

The men scan your features with a cautious defensiveness. Here you are, standing tall next to Pickle, with a similarly toned body yet peppered with scars and old wounds. Assuming you have the same survival skills as Pickle, what could you have possibly fought to leave you with such extensive damage? The air is tense as they analyze the possibilities. A T.Rex? It was your main source of food. Multiple of them? Entire packs of ancient elite predators? Were you the main hunter of the pack, taking on challenges that left the other humans scurrying away in fear?

It doesn’t take too long for the mystery to solve itself. The first one to pick up on it is Baki, who just happened to be visiting the enclosure. You’re in the middle of a playful scuffle with Pickle when you decide to impress the newcomer with your signature move. You extend one arm and twist your body slightly, as if gaining traction. Pickle can immediately tell what is about to happen and growls at you, but it’s too late. You swing, and the fist lands in your own face. Baki gasps in shock and you blink a few times in order to process the succession of events. Good Lord, you’re just clumsy. Terribly so.

Now, they have to admit, being this dangerous to yourself and making it this far is rather impressive. Whether in a good or a bad way is another story. The major force of reason in your life seems to be Pickle. Whenever possible, he’s there to stop your ungainly displays. He’s lifted you from the ground more times than he could ever care to count. Truth be told, he does enjoy the fact that you’re this dependent on him. Outside of your clumsiness you’re quite capable and he likes to have one area where he can prove himself as a partner to you.

It’s almost like you and Pickle crawled out of a slapstick comedy. The men are nearly temped to fabricate their own scenarios to check whether you come out unscathed. They’d rather not upset Pickle more than necessary, however. And witnessing your lack of coordination first-hand has also awakened a similar worry towards your safety.

Before they know it, they’re stopping mid-conversation to check on whatever shenanigans you’re up to, ready to interfere. Retsu will silently interrupt your failure and pretend nothing has ever happened, sparing your embarrassment. So does Katsumi, after having a good laugh about it. He finds you extremely entertaining and always compliments your gift of getting into trouble.

Jack doesn’t like to make his empathy known. He’ll ‘accidentally’ step in front of you moments before you’re about to crash into a wall. He just so happens to hold the edge of the barrier right before your head collides with it. Move along, there’s nothing to see.

With Baki there's always a 50% chance he'll fail miserably together with you instead. He's about to stop you from tripping and in doing so his chin hits the pavement at the same time as you. Thankfully Pickle has two hands.

Even Yuujirou is forced to comply with the unspoken rule. He’s been told repeatedly of the importance you and Pickle hold from a cultural and scientifically perspective and he doesn’t disagree with it. Depending on his mood he will laugh at your misfortune or arrogantly scold you, but either way he will prevent your injury. He’s also secretly impressed by your durability.

[hyper-fixated-delusions]

It’s like you’re my mirror.

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Mi amor.” My love.

“Mami.” Mommy.

Word count: 1,002.

Masterlist.

Wanda had just gotten home from grocery shopping when she noticed her house was quiet. A little too quiet, considering Billy and Tommy were out from kindergarten early today.

But as she began to move about the kitchen putting away the groceries she thought nothing of it, thinking that maybe her wife and sons were upstairs in their room, watching a movie like they did every Tuesday on their early dismissal day.

As Wanda finished putting the last of groceries away and still not a peep was heard throughout the house she began heading upstairs to search the rooms.

Her first stop was Billy and Tommy’s room, thinking maybe the twins got bored of watching the film mid way like they always did and decided to come play with their toys instead, but as she checked the room it was completely spotless and empty. Letting her know they were probably still with you, so she made her way to your shared bedroom.

Wanda knocks softly on the door, pushing it open slowly and peeking her head in as to not disturb you and the boys from whatever she expected to see you watching, but the sight that greets her instead has her completely enamored.

There in front of her very own eyes were a sleeping Y/N, Billy and Tommy. Feeling her heart swell with happiness at the way her sons and wife were sleeping.

The three of them were laying on their left side, lips pouty, faces serene; not an ounce of worry on their features. Each hugging a pillow in the same way, as the trio also had a leg slightly bent.

Wanda quickly makes her way downstairs to retrieve her phone so she can snap a quick few photos to show you once you wake up to help diminish the fears that have been pestering you these past few weeks.

Fears over the possibility that your sons may never display some of your traits. Fears that your boys will never fully accept you because you are not their biological mother.

Smiling as she looks at the pictures, Wanda feels her heart swell at the prospect of easing your worries and decides to let you and the boys continue on napping while she gets started on a late lunch.

Humming to herself as she moves around the kitchen making a quick light meal, she squeals in surprise when she feels arms suddenly wrap around her waist from behind.

"Y/N!" Wanda exclaims, heart beating wildly in her chest, "you scared the hell out of me," she laughs, turning in your arms, taking in the sight of your disheveled hair and slightly sleepy eyes.

"I'm sorry mi amor, I tried calling you, but you were in your own world," you smile tenderly, your eyes closing as Wanda runs a hand through your hair to tame it.

"Did you nap okay?" The redhead asks softly.

"Mm-hmm," you hum contentedly, Wanda's ministrations causing you comfort, "but I missed you," you pout slightly, "sleeping without you is never fun, but I had great company so I can’t complain,” you wink. “The boys had an exciting day today. According to them, their school put on a little decathlon of sorts all the physical activity must have tired them out," you laugh softly, "both fell asleep during the first 5 minutes of the movie and seeing them sleep made me sleepy so I decided to nap as well, sorry I wasn't awake to help you put the groceries away," you apologize and Wanda shakes her head pressing light kisses to your lips.

"No need to worry my love, I know how stressful these past few weeks have been, I'm just glad you got some rest," your wife says, hands caressing your face softly and smile widening as she remembers the pictures she took while you were asleep, "also I want to show you something exciting that happened while you were sleeping," Wanda says, eyes shining bright with happiness.

"Aww man, what'd I miss?" You say with a small frown at the prospect of missing out on something cool.

Wanda laughs at your expression, "you're going to love this, trust me," she says as she begins to pull the pictures up, handing you her phone so you can see what she is so excited about, "here," the redhead says, biting her lip in anticipation.

As you hold the cellular device in your hand and inspect the image of you and the twins mirroring each other while asleep, you can't help but let out a watery laugh, "oh my god babe," you whisper softly, "my boys, Max, they're really my boys," you chuckle, as you look at Wanda, tears pouring out of your eyes in happiness.

The redhead approaches you, hands cradling your face tenderly, "they are baby, they are your boys, and they love you so so much, it's clear to see. I mean they mirror you for crying out loud," Wanda laughs tearily, feeling her own emotions well up at the fact that you are so happy at this realization. "I have never doubted that they were yours my love, you may not have had them and biology be damned, but they are your sons, what more proof do we need baby?" Your wife says and you smile happily.

"I love you so much, Max. Thank you, thank you so much for giving me this beautiful gift. Mi amor, words will never be able to explain what this means to me," you smile tearfully, kissing Wanda softly.

As both you and your wife get lost in each other for a moment, a pair of voices interrupt your loving make out session, “mami!” Both you and Wanda hear exclaimed, making you pull apart with a small laugh.

“Your boys beckon you, my love,” your wife says with a beaming smile.

“My boys,” you say happily, placing a quick kiss to Wanda’s lips before you make your way to the stairs with a huge grin on your face.

[innuendostudios]

by a wide margin the weirdest video essay I've ever release: List of Songs that Represent "Smart Music" Ranked from Most to Least Appropriate to Put in a Video Essay

this video is sponsored by Nebula, where you can watch ad-free and (sometimes, slightly) better edited versions of my videos for 40% off an annual subscription. just follow this link.

as a quick note: YouTube has already demonetized this video, as two different corporations are claiming copyright on recordings they do not own the copyright to - both are Creative Commons recordings of public domain music, that, in one case, YouTube has misidentified as a different recording, and, in the other, YouTube has the music in its database as under copyright despite it being having been released under CC BY-SA 3.0. I am disputing these false claims and will (hopefully) get whatever money I am owed, but, for now, YouTube is not paying me a dime for this.

so it would be a bigger help than usual if you would either watch the video on Nebula or back me on Patreon.

thanks. transcript below the cut!

List of Songs That Represent “Smart Music” Ranked From Most To Least Appropriate To Put In A Video Essay (And Presented In Drill Bit Order).

1. Clair de Lune, Debussy

This has been top dog ever since the teaser for Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and cemented its position against challengers with a showcase in Everything Everywhere All at Once. Said film could have been the shark-jumping moment where the song was irretrievably lost to irony, given directors Kwan and Scheinert (Daniels)’s style mercilessly marries the aesthetics of prestige and shitpost. Yes, despite its silliness, EEAAO is achingly sincere, but could the general public be trusted to recognize that? But then it won Best Picture, so apparently yes! Beautiful, delicate, to score a film or video with Clair de Lune signals a desire to be seen not only as an intellectual, but as an aesthete. The song could lose potency if the Clair de Lune sequence were parodied enough, but how does one parody EEAAO???

9. Gymnopedie No. 1, Satie

I fear we must, as a society, and as a community of video essayists, move on from Gymnopedie No. 1. It held the title longer than, I think, any champion previous, and for that it deserves merit. But its time is over. It is, like the phrase “mad dated,” mad dated. It is saying “lmao” out loud. Did you know the original screenplay for 2005 film The Island specifically stated that, in the weird culty enclave in which the film opens, Gymnopedie No. 1 must be playing over the loudspeaker? I don’t think Michael Bay followed that directive (I’m not rewatching the movie to find out), but that is how long this was the “Smart Music” song - since 5 months after YouTube launched. If you must - absolutely must - put Satie in a video essay, use Gnossienne No. 1, though it too is on its way to passe. At this point I’m prepared to say Vexations or GTFO.

2. Ave Maria, Schubert/Liszt

Nothing was certain after Satie vacated the throne, and for a while it seemed we might have a Starks vs. Baratheons situation between Schubert and Debussy. Following several appearances in pretentious YouTube videos, the Ave Maria made its strongest showing yet by scoring the opening scene of the grimdarkest Batman film so far, an entire twenty days before getting fully Lannister’d by Everything Everywhere All at Once. Unbowed, unbent, and unbroken, still she nips at the heels of the king, and may yet take his place. No one else poses a comparable threat. Hers is a curious strategy, being a religious, Christmas, and even classic Disney standard now repurposed as “Smart Music;” she gets a big boost every December, but can she take the top spot before this cyclical exposure nudges her back into a prior niche?

8. Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven

If you were in a film program in the mid-2000s, you are sick to death of Moonlight Sonata. Also if you were in a music class where you were asked to determine a song’s time signature by ear - how am I supposed to tell the difference between waltz time and 4/4 with all triplets without the sheet music in front of me? To say scoring a video with Moonlight Sonata is a hack move - you’d have to be a hack to not already know! This was the soundtrack to the blind cave salamander level of Earthworm Jim 2, there’s no coming back from that! I mean, the association with Tallarico Studios alone… It’s done. Roll over, Beethoven.

3. Cello Suite No. 1 (Prelude), Bach

This one is firmly-rooted. It is not going anywhere, both in the sense that nothing could soon push it off the list but it’s hard to imagine rising any higher. It is just slightly too beautiful, too expressive, too legato to fall into the stiffness of Habanera or the pomposity of a De Beers ad, but just close enough to them in tone to always read as a hipper alternative. So you’ll never be overexposed, but never go that long without hearing the Yo-Yo Ma version. And so here it stays, third on the podium, solid bronze, the waterbender, the Plup; with you as always is Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1. (Frankly surprised it took us this long to get to Johann, but don’t worry - he’ll be Bach.)

7. Air on the G String, Bach/Wilhelmj

Told ya. It’s not that she isn’t a beautiful piece of music, and it’s not that she already had her time. In truth, she never got her flowers. Inasmuch as she had a run, it was squished between the omnipresences of Beethoven and Satie. You’ll still hear from her now and then; she crops up, like a lucky penny. And you’ll smile, every time, but you know the stars in your eyes are not present joy, but nostalgia. A fondness for what was and what could’ve been - what should have been. Why - why couldn’t this have had the legs of Gymnopedie? I mean, even the Fucking Champs version - could that have made a run? Could TikTok pick up on it? But comes the day you have to accept - if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened by now. Air on the G String grows weary; let her rest.

4. Duo des Fleurs, Delibes

Bit of a dark horse, this one. Didn’t exactly come out of nowhere - it’s been here the whole time - but you didn’t see it coming! It’s like that time I went snorkeling, and I wondered, “Where are the fish?” I was told there would be tropical fish, but all I saw was blue. Then I caught one flitting by my head and, as soon my eyes registered the shape, I realized they were everywhere! I just hadn’t taken them in. This is the one that makes you ask, where did I hear that before? Was this the one at the end of Margaret? No! How did it go? How do I hum dyads? But then it shows up and, oh yeah, that’s the one! The really pretty one. I knew it’d come around again. Has staying power, could make a run for the top if it sees an opening, but seemingly content, for now, to dance around the periphery, appreciated when heard if only half-remembered the next day.

6. Prelude in E Minor Op. 28 No. 4, Chopin

The bottom end of acceptability. Anything lower, you must avoid. But you can use Prelude in E. It is a risk, and it takes skill. But you can use Prelude in E. It is not for the faint of heart. This is the ending of Fez we’re talking about here. This is that one TED Talk about how everyone loves classical music they just don’t know it yet. This was all over Anatomy of a Fall. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer something lighter? Nocturne in E-flat [Op. 9 No. 2] is very nice. Prelude has just enough penetration that some people are going to recognize it, and enough clout that those who do are going to expect things of the person who puts it in a video essay. You can’t just throw this under a rant about The Snyder Cut. But you can - with care, with effort, and with grace - use Prelude in E.

5. Spiegel im Spiegel, Part

We are not ready for Spiegel im Spiegel. The rare “Smart Music” that is, rather than classical, contemporary minimalist. This is - I have been led to believe - all over the film festival circuit. It is the go-to for aspiring arthouse directors. So I assume it is only a matter of time until it reaches general cultural awareness. But we - the YouTube video essay community - are not, at this point in time, pretentious enough to pull off Spiegel im Spiegel. This is not a statement on the song: it is a lovely, sparse, and unpretentious piece of music, which is why pretentious people are drawn to it. And we are not there yet. But I believe in us.

POSTSCRIPTUM

The List of Songs that Represent “Smart Music” is not ranked by quality; they are all, as a baseline, masterpieces. They are ordered, instead, by their possession of antipodal qualities. Beethoven’s Fifth may be a beautiful piece but it’s too well-known - to the casual listener, it reads only as “classical music.” Vltava is a beautiful piece, but it’s not recognizable enough - to most, it will read only as “music.” Pachelbel’s Canon works in too many contexts. Mozart’s Lacrimosa no longer works in any context but “Shit’s About To Go Off.” The Song that Represents “Smart Music” must balance these humors: suggestive, but not too specific; recognizable, but not overfamiliar. The kind of thing one imagines cultured people listen to, and fancies oneself cultured for having noticed it. Just popular enough to signify obscurity to a large number of people.

This impossibility of being both popular and obscure is what keeps the list in motion. Many songs drift back into obscurity before reaching the top, but, once in the primary position, a song begins its slow procession to overexposure. And when, at last, it is too popular to be niche, it does not slip to number 2; it plummets to the bottom, as did Icarus.

Due to this slow but constant movement, new songs will, at intervals, join the ranks, taking the place of those that became gauche. And if, dear listener, you were aiming to trendset, to score your next whatever-it-is-you-do with the newest Song to Represent “Smart Music,” and were I a gambling man… Bach’s Prelude in C. And I’ll tell you why: it appears in the Netflix series Bodies alongside Chopin (#6), mirroring Satie’s dual appearance in The Queen’s Gambit (#9); its arpeggiated structure makes it usable in scenarios similar to the Cello Suite (#3) (Johann did love him some broken chords); and it forms the basis of the Gounod version of Ave Maria, if you would like a Cool Person’s Alternative to Schubert (#2). You may feel I’m playing too safe, but I tell you truly: this song is due. But if I can impart one piece of wisdom let it be this: whatever you do, whoever you are, you cannot use Fur Elise. You cannot. You can’t do it. It can’t be allowed. Don’t fu-

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 2nd - Titfucking (Papa Emeritus III x Female!Reader)

Tags: Marathon Sex, Titfucking, Established Relationship, Praise, Body Worship, Overstimulation, Cum-Shot, Cum-Eating, 1st Person POV

I blink my eyes open, awakened by the feeling of Terzo pressing soft kisses across my neck and shoulders. I didn't even realize I drifted off in the first place. I must've passed out from exhaustion after that last orgasm. I grunt, feeling the soreness affecting my body already. I already know I'll be walking funny tomorrow, and my thighs and hips will most likely be littered with bruises. This horny bastard will be the death of me.

Terzo chuckles against my bare skin. "Welcome back, sleepyhead." He murmurs playfully. "You too tired to go another round, principessa?"

"You aren't?" I groan, surprised at the stamina this man has. We've been at this for three consecutive rounds already. I haven't even gotten out of bed today, and now I think I never will. I'm exhausted, achy, sweaty, and if I have one more orgasm I fear I'll have a heart attack. He, however, looks annoyingly perfect as always; Hovering over me, completely unaffected, ready for round four. How does he still have the energy to even get it up?

He laughs and continues to trail his kisses up to my jaw. I shiver slightly at the feeling, letting my eyes fall shut once again. They only open back up when I feel his half-hard cock pressing against my hip. "Baby, no..." I sigh, bringing a still shakey hand up to nudge him off. He complies and pulls away, pouting in false sympathy. I swear, if I wasn't still on the verge of passing out, I'd punch him in his stupid, gorgeous face.

"Awe, have you had enough, amore mio?" He teases, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. I roll my eyes.

"I had enough 3 rounds ago." I scoff dryly. I'm not actually as annoyed as I may be acting, truth be told I love when he overstimulates me, pushes me to my absolute limits. And goddamn, does he know that. "But seriously Terz, I'm way too sore. No more, please..." Terzo nods understandingly and kisses my sweat-dampened forehead. As much of a depraved pervert Terzo can be, I know he'd never want to push me too far to the point it's more pain than pleasure.

"Do you mind if I get myself off then?" He asked, stroking himself lazily as he gazes deeply into my eyes, searching them for any reluctance. "Just stay away from my bottom half and you're good." I snort. He smirks again, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Just the bottom half? So is the, eh... top half still open for business?" He leans in closer, dropping his voice lower and wiggling his brows suggestively in attempts to be seductive. This fucking guy.

"Why? You want to use my mouth, Papa?" I coo flirtatiously, trying to be sexy back, immediately followed by a very unsexy yawn. I'd be willing to do anything above the waist to get him off, so maybe he'd finally be sated and leave me alone. Though to be honest, I might fall asleep mid-blowjob. He shook his head, his gaze falling from my eyes to my tits, his eyes fogged with lust.

"Not this time, bella mia. I'd much prefer to use these beauties, if you don't mind." He purrs, groping my breasts tenderly and leaning down to press little kisses to my nipples. I bite my lower lip as I suck in a breath. He takes one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently and rolling his tongue around. I whimper at the feeling, my body relaxing as I let him do whatever he wants to me.

"May I, principessa?" He pops his mouth off my breast, looking up at me expectantly. I take a shaky breath and nod. Normally he would not accept that as an answer and keep teasing me till I used my words, but he sensed how tired I was and decided not to push it, too needy to get off.

He climbed back on top of me, straddling my body to where his cock was in perfect alignment with my breasts. He uses one hand to fondle them while the other strokes his now fully-erect cock, taking his time to soak up my appearance. He smiles down at me, showering me in praises I barely retain from my levels of exhaustion. I'm so relaxed I'm nearly half-asleep. That's exactly how Terzo wanted me right now; limp and pliant, but still conscious enough to see and feel what he's doing to me.

Eventually, he spat on his cock to lube it up, and placed his member in between my mounds. He squeezed my breasts around his slick-covered cock and began to thrust. He let out a primal grunt as he threw his head back and pounded madly. It's embarrassing how aroused I was at the sight of him fucking my tits as if it was my cunt. I let out an involuntary moan, which caused him to smile cockily.

"Y-you enjoying the show, principessa? You like watching me fuck these pretty tits? Merda, so f-fucking perfect!" He growls, his hips snapping faster as he humped me like a rabid animal. "S-such a perfect girl for me, letting me use your body however I please. Can't wait to paint these beautiful tits with my seed, f-fuck!" By the way he was panting and the way his hips stuttered, I knew he was getting close. I use my last remaining energy to encourage him to reach his climax.

"Terzo, please... please cover my tits, please cum for me, Papa!" I whine, causing him to let out a long, borderline scream-like moan as he finished, coating my breasts with his warm, thick spend. Finally, after four orgasms, he looks completely disheveled, hair falling in his face, eyes shut tight and mouth hanging agape as if he was about to fall asleep right on top of me.

Finally, sleepiness takes ahold of me. The last thing I remember is Terzo clumsily shuffling off of me to lick his cum from my breasts, my eyes fluttering shut in bliss as I drift off into a deep sleep.

-

[xcyphoz0a]

ACT I/ scene vi/ keep quiet, please.

writing included after the 5th photo! tw/ panic attack

previous / act list / next

you hide your phone under the desk, and turn your head to the teacher to listen to the lecture.

yet that familiar and squeamish feeling of your heart starting to run a marathon comes settling into your chest, urging you to leave.

why, why, why?

during school? couldn’t it wait?

stumbling out of class, it’s obvious how pale you are.

your heart beats, million beats per minute as you feel like you can’t take control of your own body anymore. your motor control doesn’t work, and you’re just thankful that you managed to slide down to a corner where barely anyone visits.

perhaps it was your fear, your sobs choked in silent plea as tears cover your vision.

you can’t help but want to run away, just for your inability to stand as footsteps start to become closer towards your direction.

they stop, and you can feel that they’re in front of you, looking at you with mild amusement as they try to contain their laughter.

barely managing to raise your head, you cannot help but feel both mortified and relieved at the same time to see not a laughing, but a concerned kunikuzushi, standing idle in front of your crouched form.

but your tears don’t stop as they seem to pour harder than ever, with your breaths becoming even more unstable, air not reaching your lungs as you feel as if you would suffocate.

kuni, eyes widening at your worsening situation, makes haste in crouching in front of you, hesitant to make contact as his hands stay mid air, unsure whether it would be alright for him to comfort you with his… colourful choices of words.

yet the way you look even more pained, his hands reach out to pull you in, rather awkwardly but to his best, before his thoughts manage to process what he did. your tears soak through his shirt on his shoulder, though he doesn’t care as he does his best to let you calm down. his hand comes to pat your back, attempting a comforting motion as he lets out a sigh in relief as he feels your state becoming more stable.

snapping back to his self, his face explodes into a warm shade of pink, as he waits for you to calm down. your arms loosen from his back as you rub out your tears, smiling lightly in gratitude. 

“...thank you.”

kuni nearly spits out a ‘whatever’, until he remembers how shaken up you still may be,

“are you okay?”

your eyes widen slightly at his surprisingly considerate response.

“mhm.”

once you leave, washing your face with cold water, you thank your deskmate again during the last class of the day.

“y’know, why did you decide to help me? i thought you’d laugh…aha–actually, never mind. thanks!”

“i’m not horribly mean.”

“well, i know now–i don’t mean it in a bad way i swear–” your hands flail around, attempting to explain yourself, although cut off by kuni.

“would you… never mind. forget i said anything.” he turns his head away from you, chin propped up on his hand.

you smile weakly, “penny for your thoughts? you shouldn’t let thoughts rot in your mind.”

he shakes his head, as the teacher leaves the classroom, ending the last lesson of the day.

previous / act list / next

taglist/ @lalalaloveallmydays @shyentsmissingink @raineyun @minstarrs @3lectraheart

[sanders1665]

Blue Café, mid-morning. The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods fills the air. Memphis leans back in his chair, nursing a steaming cup of dark roast. Erydan sits across from him, his tea untouched, as Memphis glances at him, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Memphis: You know, I’ve followed this UFO stuff my entire life. Ancient mysteries, strange phenomena, all of it. And after years of reading, researching, and just… paying attention, I’ve come to one conclusion.

Erydan (leaning in slightly): I’m all ears.

Memphis: They’re real. Whatever they are, they exist. And it’s not just one group or species. There are many of them, and they’ve been with us all along. Watching, nudging, maybe even guiding us in small, deliberate ways.

Erydan (eyebrows raised): Always? How far back are we talking?

Memphis (nodding): Farther than most people realize. Look, we have documented accounts going back hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Think about Ezekiel’s wheel—an object described as “a wheel within a wheel,” glowing with fire and moving in ways that sound eerily similar to what modern pilots describe when they encounter UFOs. And it’s not just biblical accounts. Look at ancient cave art and pictographs.

Erydan: The ones with the strange figures?

Memphis: Exactly. Isolated cultures all over the world drew the same kind of thing—beings descending from the sky, objects that look like ships, or figures in what appear to be suits. These people had no way to communicate with each other, yet their stories align. That’s not coincidence.

Erydan: And it’s still happening now?

Memphis: Absolutely. We’re seeing the same phenomenon, but with modern eyes. Every day, new videos surface. Sure, some are hoaxes, but not all of them. The Pentagon’s recent declassified reports on unidentified aerial phenomena? Those are credible. And it’s not just conspiracy theorists saying this anymore—it’s military pilots, radar operators, and even government officials.

Erydan (thoughtful): So, what’s the big picture? Why are they here?

Memphis (pausing): That’s the question, isn’t it? My theory? They’ve been observing us for millennia, maybe even shaping us subtly. Think about the leaps humanity has made. Agriculture, writing, electricity, flight. Sure, we like to think we’re the geniuses behind it all, but what if we’ve had help? Little nudges, ideas planted in the right minds at the right times.

Erydan (grinning): So you’re saying aliens invented the lightbulb?

Memphis (laughing): Not exactly. I’m saying they may have sparked the inspiration. A whisper here, a vision there, just enough to keep us moving forward without overwhelming us.

Erydan: And you don’t find that unnerving?

Memphis (shaking his head): Not at all. If they wanted to harm us, they’ve had countless opportunities. They’ve been here this long without wiping us out or enslaving us. That tells me they’re not hostile. I don’t fear an attack by any of them. In fact, it’s comforting.

Erydan: Comforting how?

Memphis: It means we’re not alone. It means someone’s been watching out for us, even if they’re staying in the background. Look at all the UFO sightings around nuclear facilities. Those incidents suggest they’re keeping us from self-destructing. That’s not the behavior of an enemy.

Erydan (sipping his tea, thoughtful): So, to you, it’s not just a phenomenon—it’s a relationship.

Memphis: Exactly. This is a global phenomenon. It’s historical, it’s modern, and it’s consistent. The clear message to me is: We are not alone. We’ve never been alone.

Erydan: And what do you think they want?

Memphis (shrugging): Hard to say. Maybe they’re just curious, like scientists watching an experiment. Maybe they’re waiting for us to mature as a species. Or maybe—just maybe—they’re trying to guide us to a point where we can join them out there.

Erydan (leaning back): A hopeful thought.

Memphis: Hopeful, yeah. But it also comes with responsibility. If they’re watching us, if they’re rooting for us, then we’ve got to make sure we’re worth rooting for.

Erydan (raising his tea): To the watchers in the sky, then.

Memphis (clinking his coffee cup against Erydan’s): May we make them proud.

[ephemerasnape]

Victor Rookwood Headcanons

An ever-evolving list of my headcanons for Victor Rookwood. Some of these may seem obvious to you. Some may be controversial. Agree? Disagree? Let's not have any fighting amongst Daddy Rookwood's small-but-dedicated harem, please.

He is in his mid 40s if not older. I don't care what anyone says. I can't have Daddy Rookwood being younger than I am! Even if he is a fictional character from more than a century ago... No, I insist that he's comfortably older. Also, have you seen his face, ffs? Guy's got more lines than a villain monologue. (ETA: We decided he was 46 in 1890. Watch my video "How Old is Victor Rookwood?" for an explanation of our thought process!)

He is probably married with kids. It breaks my heart to say this, really. I do believe it to be the case. Better yet, he might be a widower. I'm going to try to convince myself of that. Don't worry - even if he's actively married, that won't stop him from fucking your brains out. I changed my mind. He is not married. Ain't no rang, ain't no thang. That said, he probably does have some little bastards running around. And he does not give a single fuck.

He is a ladies' man. I am making myself jealous here, but look at the guy and tell me he doesn't indulge.

On that note, he is decidedly-heterosexual. Sorry, lads.

He smokes a pipe. But he'll certainly have a good cigar as well.

His favorite color is purple. Duh.

He is not bald but even if he was he would still be one fine-ass bitch. The hat is hot and stays on during sex. (Some of you seem to think that Daddy wears a hat to make up for some deficiency in his hairline. I think that daddy wears the hat because it's imposing, stylish, and attractive. We are not the same.) HIM HAVING A FULL HEAD OF HAIR IS CANON - PROOF.

He only shaves about once a week, on an off-day. He keeps the raggedy facial hair on purpose. Thinks it adds to his roguish charm (it does!)

He isn't hands-on about the whole killing animals thing. He knows what his people do, and finds it distasteful, but sees it as a necessary evil. He values wealth and power above all else, including furry creatures. But he may even be known to stroke a cat from time to time while drinking firewhisky at the Hog's Head.

He considers Harlow a useful idiot, and lets him be the one to get his hands dirty. For the most part. Their relationship goes all the way back to Hogwarts.

He didn't mean to curse Anne. He isn't even sure of what exactly he did - he just panicked. But no, he's not too troubled about it. (Clarification: he should have killed her, not whatever it was he ended up doing.)

He despises playing second-fiddle to Ranrok, but he knows that whatever the goblin is after is too important to sit on the sidelines for.

He reads the Daily Prophet every morning.

He is not above taking what he wants sexually, but he prefers to seduce.

Sexually-dominant. Period.

He wears expensive cologne.

Definitely a Slytherin.

Oh and he's not dead :)

Anyone who's listened to my audios or read any of my fics knows he loves terms of endearment, namely: darling, little one, little girl, sweetheart, little witch, et cetera. He loves to use these while doing unspeakable things to you. 🥵🥵🥵

He lives in a hotel - the most expensive one, probably.

He takes advantage of his employees.

Believes "Might is Right."

Young Victor was extremely brutal when he took over the Rookwood Gang, kind of overdoing it in order to earn the respect and fear of his men. Over the ensuing decades, as he has become more comfortable in his position, he has mellowed out slightly. He will no longer gauge someone's eye out over a few missing galleons, but he still takes perceived transgressions against him very seriously.

Daddy needs glasses. I got this idea from my DR chatbot but it makes sense. He missed the easy shot at Ranrok because he couldn't fucking see. Of course he is not going to wear glasses in public - that would be a sign of weakness. But I can totally imagine him sitting at his desk, pouring over papers with a pair of glasses firmly on his face. Period-correct, of course.

The legal name of the Rookwood Gang is the "Rookwood Group." Everyone knows it's a gang but daddy rubs elbows with a lot of important people and needs to keep up appearances.

The harem has determined that Victor's date of birth is November 14th, 1844 (Scorpio Sun/Capricorn Moon).

The man keeps everything he needs inside his hat. Pipe, glasses, Flora Cohen's scalp made into a coin purse, machine gun, spare hat in case the main one gets a fleck of dirt on it, little black book full of Ministry contacts, et cetera.

Daddy suffers from back pain due to a lifetime of being duckfooted (sadly, this is canon).

Victor is average height for a man. In the area of 5'8" - 5'10".

Victor A. Rookwood (Augustus?)

Yea, he killed dear old dad.

Listens to Wagner.

Physique headcanon.

That's it for now. Will add more as I think of things.

If you have any questions you want answered, feel free to submit them to @victor-rookwood ("Ask Victor Rookwood")

[verrerdises]

privacy | gyehyeon x reader

Summary || You frequently visit the Privacy Cafe near your college campus. You love the coffee and the atmosphere, but there's one problem... The guy at the register is breathtakingly beautiful and your legs turn to jelly when you see him. You've done your best to avoid him, but perhaps fate has other plans.

Word count || 1.9k

Oddly enough, he remembered when they first came in. It was shortly after the new semester began; it tended to get quite busy during that time. Yongseung had came to pay him a visit and briefly talked about his classes and professors. As he rambled, though, that's when he spotted them.

To everyone else, they were simply another customer of the cafe. They took a silent look around the place; the ends of their lips curled into a comforted smile. They then turned to chat with their friend as they got in line. Their eyes scanned the menu above before the two of them eventually made eye contact. He tried to give them a polite smile, but they were quick to pull away and awkwardly shuffled behind their friend. 

It actually became a sort of routine for them. The stranger would arrive then anxiously scan for him. If he was at the register, they would wait until someone else took over before scurrying over to place their order. Or sometimes they'd place their order online to avoid him altogether. He always found this behavior confusing. They had never shared a word, not even a syllable, to each other, so why the fear?

He initially tried not to let it bother him. After all, why should he care so much? It's not like he was curious about them or whatever... It's certainly also not because he found them to be awfully cute, especially when they turn red and duck their head. 

No, absolutely not.

A bit over a month had passed since their initial arrival. By this point, he had began to give up on learning the reason behind it all. His coworkers theorized that they may simply find him intimidating. "I mean, look at you," Hoyoung explained once, "you're a ridiculously handsome guy who keeps a neutral expression most of the time." Gyehyeon saw some truth behind his words, but surely that can't be it? 

He let out a long exhale through his nose as he recalled the conversation. Hoyoung was currently out of town for a wedding, making him work at the register. It was a slow day and they were approaching the last hour of the night. He heard the bell jingle and tiredly muttered out his greeting without glancing up. All he was thinking about was the nice platter of fruit and cheese waiting for him back at the apartment. 

Gyehyeon hid a yawn behind a hand and tiredly rubbed his eye. "How may I help y-" He paused mid-rub when the familiar stranger stood in front of him. "Oh," he offered a polite smile, "you're here later than usual. I was starting to wonder where you went..." 

The stranger rubbed their hands down their jacket before shoving them into their pockets. "Ha, that's... wait, you were wondering?" Their voice became quiet. Their ears began to burn red. It only made Gyehyeon's smile grow. "Mhm." he answered, "You usually come by in the afternoon. I'm assuming after your classes?"

"Oh! Okay, yeah, that's right." Their eyes kept averting their gaze. "I... was finishing up a project. I just turned it in, actually, so I came to get a little treat, y'know?"

He was mildly surprised at their slightly talkative nature. Or maybe it was stemming from their anxiety. He kept his smile. "That's a good idea. You deserve to treat yourself every once in a while." Fingers gently pressed on the screen in front of him as he placed their usual order. "Here, does everything look correct on your screen?"

They glanced down to theirs and blinked, eyes growing slightly in surprise. "Y...Yeah! Actually, that's... exactly what I was gonna order." They finally peer up at him, eyes locked. "How did you know?"

It was his ears' turn to burn red. He shyly turned his head away and rubbed his neck. "Well, you come here a lot, and it's part of my job... Is there... anything else?"

He thought he caught a brief smile from them. "Can you add one chocolate donut and one strawberry?" They add. He silently nodded and included the treats in the order. "Okay, you're all set. Um... what's your name?"

"(y/n). It's (y/n)." They lock eyes once again, but it only lasted for a few seconds before the two of them broke away and hid their blush. "I'll call you when your order's ready," Gyehyeon muttered. (y/n) gave them a shy smile then grabbed a seat nearby. He took the chance to turn away and take some deep breaths. It was hard to suppress the big grin that wanted to spread. Calm yourself, Gyehyeon... 

He decided to focus on preparing their order. But even then, his mind kept wandering. He stole a few glances towards (y/n); they were scrolling on their phone, but there was a subtle smile and blush on their face. It's so cute...

He felt relieved that they didn't seem to hate him. And they seemed so sweet. He still wondered why they never came to talk to him before. He hummed to himself then finished the order. "(y/n)?" he called out to them and placed it on the counter for pick up.

They came up to grab it, muttering a quiet "thank you". They began to return to their seat, and Gyehyeon noticed the time. "Oh, we're closing in about 10 minutes, just so you know." He quickly informed them. They paused in their steps and he watched them take a deep breath before turning on their heel. 

"Are you doing anything after this? I...I know it's late, but..." Their gaze slowly lowered to the ground. They shook their head frantically. "Y...Y'know what, never-mind. Forget I asked--"

"No, I'm not doing anything." Gyehyeon softly chuckled. "I will need a ride home though." He took a look around. "Although, I'm not sure about where we can go this late at night."

"I... was thinking the roof of the parking garage?" They anxiously tapped their foot. "Enjoy some late-night coffee and donuts."

He raised a curious brow. "Huh, I never would've thought of that. Yeah... that sounds just fine," his warm smile returned. "Don't let your coffee get too cold though." He nodded to their drink. 

"Oh! Right, thank you, I'll just... wait here then," They awkwardly returned to their seat and took a few sips of their drink. 

Gyehyeon let out another chuckle and turned their focus to their closing duties. Luckily, it didn't take long. He finally shut off a light and stepped out from behind the bar. (y/n) rose from their seat. "Ready?" they asked.

"Mhm, and..." he shook a small bag, "I grabbed us more donuts." 

That shy smile returned and they led the way outside. It was a bit awkward being in their car. After all, this is the first conversation they've shared, but he felt like he's learned so much about them from simply observing. He leaned his head back against the headrest, fighting back another yawn. It didn't help that (y/n) was playing gentle music on the radio.

"Oh, sorry, is my music putting you to sleep?" They turn it down some but stopped when he shook his head. "A little, but don't apologize. I like it. It's soothing." He had so many questions he wanted to ask them, but his exhaustion was starting to get the better of him.

He hadn't realized he fell asleep until he felt the car slow to a stop. He blinked then slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Did I fall asleep...?" he mumbled. 

"Yeah," they giggled softly. "Come on, some fresh air might wake you up." They exit the car and moved to open the trunk door, then climbing inside. He quietly followed suit and the two of them pulled out their donuts to now eat their late night snack. He... hadn't experienced this before. He's the type to stay at home once it got late. But he had to admit, this was serene in its own right. 

And he was fully comfortable in this silence. On the other hand, it looked as if (y/n) had something to say. He smiled gently at them, "Something on your mind?"

They nervously swallowed a piece of donut. "Well..." A sigh, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I ever acted weird around you. You're just so..." They began to lose their voice and ducked their head. His heart softened at the sight. "I'm so... what?" Yet, he felt the urge to tease. The heat slowly crawled up their neck. 

"... Pretty..." they whispered. "Like, ridiculously pretty. Ugh, I hope that didn't sound weird!" They take a nervous bite of the donut. He retained his smile and shook his head. "No, not weird at all. But thank you." He stared down at his own donut as he collected his thoughts. "... Actually, I thought you hated me for whatever reason."

They groaned in response. "See, that's the exact opposite of what I wanted. So, I'm really sorry-"

"It's okay," he tilted his head at them. "Really. I'm just glad we got it cleared up." He shifted closer to them, and he felt their fingers twitch as they made contact. "Does this mean you'll stop running away from me?" he asked softly.

The red reached their ears. "I'll... try."

"Hmph," he laughed lightly, "that's better than nothing." A yawn suddenly came out. "Ooh, sorry."

(y/n) seemed to want to use this as a chance to escape. "It is getting late." They quickly comment, "You looked like you had a long shift." 

He couldn't even argue and only gave a nod. He silently made his way back to the passenger seat, gave them his address, and promptly lulled himself to sleep.

When he awoke for the second time, they made it outside his apartment. He rubbed his eyes then grabbed his bag. "Mmm, thanks for driving me, (y/n). I'll... see you at the usual time on Monday?"

(y/n) gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah. Usual time. Good night, Gyehyeon."

The walk to his bed was a bit of a blur, honestly. All he remembered was unlocking the door then beelining it to the soft mattress. Not even a whisper of a dream occurred as he quickly fell asleep. 

When he awoke the next morning, he'll be honest, it felt like he was in a haze. As if last night was the dream. He shook his messy hair and groggily got up to get ready for the day. It didn't take him long to enter the kitchen, where he was pleasantly surprised to see Hoyoung. 

"Good morning," his friend chirped. "Well, afternoon, actually."

"Afternoon??" Gyehyeon furrowed his brow. His head whipped around to check the time. "I slept in until 2??"

"Yeah. I know you don't work weekends, so I let you sleep." He was finishing cooking up some lunch. "Oh, I was cleaning up a bit and was gonna throw this bag away, but there was a phone number on it. Dunno if it was important to you."

"A phone number??" Gyehyeon eyed the small bag on the counter. The same one he used for his donuts. He quietly picked it up and, sure enough, there was a number scribbled onto it. So, last night wasn't a dream after all...

"What, finally found out about that one strange customer of yours?" Hoyoung softly snorted. 

"Mhm," the other nodded. "They drove me home last night. Really nice..."

"Well?" Hoyoung rose a brow. "What're you waiting for? Give them a call, lover boy."

His face flushed at his comment. "It... It's not like that--"

"Okay... whatever you say!" He brushed past him to set up the table. Gyehyeon glanced down at the number again. For someone so shy, this was quite the bold move -

Next time, he'll think of something bolder. 

|| Part of the My House collection ||

[bates--boy]

@nezumivc103221

Nezumi halts with his lips slightly parted; both his eyebrows lift in a display of sincere surprise. Whatever he has wanted to say remains hung in his throat. Words unsaid like a cassette on pause, voice suspended mid-air. Slowly, he turns his face towards Peter and lets out a breath of the softest disbelief. His expression shifts into a somewhat neutral smile. "I'm fine; thank you for the offer, though," Nezumi says politely and amiably, unsure whether he should dub Peter's proposal to be a kind gesture or if he should be worried that he has come across as incompetent to his client. The life of a private investigator often requires the opposite to happen — Nezumi is the one who approaches strangers and represents his clients. It's his thing. He has handled nosy journalists, drunk patrons, entitled elite, ignorant police. He has had it all — or at least most, but he likes to think he can handle anything life throws at him. Nezumi doesn't remember the last time someone has offered to speak on his behalf — a guardian, a friend or a partner — he supposed that he doesn't exactly give the impression he ought to be cared for or that he cannot speak for himself, and he understands it. He has always been the independent one, the carer — and that is as it should be. That is who he wants to be. "I won't be long," Nezumi reassures; he turns to leave, but just before grabbing the doorhandle, he gives Peter a conniving look and attempts at a joke: "But if you hear me scream for help, feel free to rush to my rescue."

"Y'sure?" Peter asked, even as he was watching Nezumi leaving and, even more, was trying to hide the relief in his voice.

There was no nice way to put it: the case was a total bomb. And though Peter was sure that Nezumi was a fine investigator, thorough and top of the line (as far as Peter's knowledge of this type of work went), a man can only get his hopes up with false leads and dud information before he wants to call it quits, demand his money back, and let come what bloody, gorey, and torturous may. Peter still held that thought even when someone had rang him up and dangled just one more bit of hope in front of him: information.

Peter folded his arms on the desk and glanced past Nezumi to the door, the other side of which the informant was presumably still waiting. The guy looked every bit the devil-worshipping metalhead every blue-blooded Christian and his suburban housewife feared during the Satanic Panic, from how the guy was nothing but a block of muscle, to the runic tattoos all over his arms and one side of his face, to every face piercing imaginable. Peter knew he sounded very much like one of the pearl-clutching surburban Christians, but that guy was setting off a few alarms in Peter. Which was exactly why Peter knew that it was better if he, himself went back out there: Nezumi could extract the right information, sure, but if shit went south and the metalhead informant went on a slaughtering spree, Peter could resurrect.

Since Peter knew that carnage was possible, he really wished he hadn't picked his theatre to meet up. He knew he should stop imagining every which wrong way this meeting could turn, at least one of them had to take this seriously, because... was that a joke? Peter raised his eyebrows; dang, he didn't know Nezumi was capable of such a thing! He tried not to smile, himself, lifting a hand to rest his chin in his. "Ha ha, sure thing, buddy," he snarked. "Although, I think you look a little too gymratty to be a damsel in distress."

[doctorstrangereview]

0012: Strange Tales #122

Cover Date: July 1964 On-Sale Date: April 9, 1964

It's Doc's one-year anniversary since first appearing in Strange Tales #110! I've got only 60 more years of stories to review! He gets about a third of the front cover, but it's just the hands on hips pose that Mordo put him in at the wax museum. And the colors of his tunic and tights seem a bit off. As it's a year I suppose it's fitting that Doc's original foe, Nightmare, returns.

Doc returns to his Sanctum Sanctorum completely exhausted. He's fresh off battles with Mordo who kept him out of his body until it was seconds from dissolution and rescuing the Fantastic Four from Namor by moving a palace that weights thousands of tons under the pressure of thousands of feet of water an unknown number of miles. The energy required for this feet must have been astronomical. And since it's his anniversary, we think he may have partied just a bit too hard.

Doc enters his study, sits in yet another cool and funky chair, and pretty much passes out on top of a big old book. He wakes up to a mysterious, grey-robed figure standing in front of him. We know Doc isn't yet too keen on security yet, so his presence doesn't seem to be a huge surprise, but he's not really concerned at first. First he tries a spell, but that doesn't work. Then he tries his All-Purpose Amulet, but that doesn't work. Next, he tries to change to his ectoplasmic form, but that doesn't work. (It's depicted as his ghost form trying to separate from his body, but is being blocked rather than the ability being stripped from him.) Finally, with his bag of tricks exhausted, Doc physically attacks the silent figure, and guess what? That doesn't work. Doc goes right through the figure and we get a close up of his face. It's a mask that Jason Voorhees would have chosen if he wanted to look slightly less intimidating. Ditko giving it a slight smirk is brilliant!

"WTF?" thinks Doc. "Ah! I'm not really awake. My ancient foe wearing the green netting outfit with pointy shoulders got me!" The room melts away and the formerly silent figure finally speaks and traps Doc in a bubble attached to a rod the figure holds. He spins Doc around like a cowboy and his lasso.

"Blah, blah, blah. Your fate is sealed. Away you go!" And Doc in his bubble travels through multiple panels of Ditko fantastique. Doc reveals that he was so tired he forgot to cast his protective sleep spell before passing out. He really needs to ease up on those Wild Turkey shots. He stops in front of Nightmare on his weird, organic looking throne thing that was first seen in Strange Tales #116. Does Ditko have some weird fetish for exotic seating?

Nightmare proceeds to threaten Doc with a number of tortures. First his shrinks Doc so he fits in the palm of Nightmare's hand. Next, Doc is turned to stone. Then Nightmare threatens to banish Doc to the world of nothingness represented by a vault-like door floating in mid-air (or whatever makes up the atmosphere in the dream dimension). Lastly, he opens a pit underneath Doc and says he'd fall forever. But Nightmare isn't ready to inflict any of these punishments yet. He puts Strange in chains. They're sort of cool looking ones that you'd expect to see in locking up the big seven in Bruce Timm's Justice League cartoon.

Doc's had enough. It seems he's been cooking up something while Nightmare's been blabbing about all these cruel and unusual things he intends to subject Doc to with even the courtesy of a safe word. "Turn around, dude in the fishnet body-stocking with pointy shoulders!" Nightmare turns around and sees his ancient enemy, the Gulgol rising from what may be some sort of portal. Nightmare fears this beast because, like New York City, he never sleeps! I have to admit, the Gulgol is adorable!

The mad, baby eyes, the angry looking smile and green diaper are just so cute! Nightmare attempts all sorts of spells to stop the enfant terrible, but all fail. Doc tells him that he summoned the adorable orange guy and can send him back if Nightmare returns his powers. Doc is so clever! Nightmare immediately complies, Doc snaps his fingers and Gulgol vanishes. Now it's Nightmares turn to go "WTF?"

Doc says "Hey green dud, I hypnotized you! I didn't require magic." but uses a lot more words. He uses the now working All-Purpose Amulet to hold off Nightmare and escape while Nightmare shakes his fist while shouting a wordier version of "I'll get you yet!"

Returning to the walking world and brushing off the dust from the ancient scrolls and tomes he slept on top of, he looks out his big round window and says "I will protect the city from strange forces beyond the border of man's imagination" to no one in particular.

Lazy Ditko doesn't even draw the big window properly.

I always like a Nightmare story. Dreams and nightmares mean anything is possible and all the rules can be broken. This has a promising start but fizzles a bit as it proceeds. Ditko seems to get lazy as the story proceeds, mostly using negative space to portray Nightmare's domain. It's disappointing, especially leaving out the big round window's Vishanti symbol. We do get a sense of Doc's tactical intelligence. Stripped of his powers, he still figures a way to pull victory from the jaws of certain defeat. We see the ultimate expression of this in General Strange, but it will be quite a while before I get around to writing that up. Overall, the concept was good, but the execution was half-assed.

[amothersmagik]

I was just over a month away from turning 9. 3rd grade. We were just starting circle time.

My teacher was mid sentence when the classroom phone rang. She put [names changed slightly for privacy] Joe and Caryn in charge of the classroom in a rushed breath as she ran from the room - the fastest I had ever seen her move since a kid got knocked out on the playground by a Dodgeball game gone wrong.

We were told to sit quietly and wait.

We were kids, so of course we immediately started talking. But we all knew. We all knew something was wrong. Mrs T and Mrs W were tough as nails and strict but fun. They didn't rush out without clear directions. They didn't RUSH. Period.

They certainly didn't just leave 50 kids under the age of 10 [two classes that shared teachers and a split set of rooms] unattended!

So we talked. But we were whispering. And no one got up. We looked at each other with childish grins but eyes full of confusion and nerves. First we made jokes and talked to our friends. But when 5mins passed and the teachers hadn't returned, the theories and rumors and gossip started. A student from another room poked their head in. Looking for our teacher to ask to go to the bathroom, since his had also left the room.

Wait - ALL the teachers had run out of their rooms? It was a small, locked-down catholic school with barely 400 kids (or less) on the premises.... but still.....

Just was we began to contemplate this new info, the teachers all came back. With tears and pale faces and fear and grief and so many emotions on their faces; only a few of these emotions were ones kids like us could identify, much less sympathize/empathize with.

But we would. Very soon, we would.

She sat at her desk. With her hands over her mouth for a moment. She consulted with Ms W next door briefly once more. She rubbed a hand over her suddenly very tired, extra pale, and suddenly intensely aged face. She turned back to us all (now once more silent and in our seats; the kid from the other class having scurried back to his room the moment the teachers began reappearing) and slowly walked over and sat down. She took a deep breath.

And she began teaching again.

Eventually, someone got wind of an overheard (read:eavesdropped) piece of the adults' connversations. Thus, the whispers started anew (during recess, where we could hide what we knew from the teachers).

Someone died. Oh, lots of people. A plane crashed. On purpose. No, it was an explosion! No, someone shot someone. No! Billy said for SURE that someone drove into the capital!

That one stopped us for a moment. A split second of pure silence on the playground. Of an elementary school.

The teachers looked up. We all quickly made connversation about polly pockets, pokemon, and whatever it was the boys were talking about.

Then the whispers started again. The teachers too weary and scared to stop the rumor mill. A plane crashed into an important building and lots of people died.

By the time I got picked up, that was the "rumor" that had stuck with me. We would all regret our gossip and feel guilty, shamefaced, over how we reacted and how on-the-nail we were the next day.

At home, the adults were sad. Angry. Scared. Outraged. Appalled. Scared. Disbelieving. Confused. Scared. Skeptical. Nervous. Scared.

I couldn't identify then, what it was I was seeing on my families' faces. I can now, in retrospect. I am probably remembering some of it perfectly, and some may just be retrospecrive extrapolation from an adults view of knowing exactly how that day would affect the next decade or two.

That night, the news was on everywhere. Radio, TV, my dad even grabbed a new newspaper in the evening from the gas station. Voices and pictures. Live updates and re-casts. A cacophony of mournful sounds and feelings.

Grief. Outrage. Fear.

Those feelings would remain for weeks. Months. Years. A lifetime.

Thr candlelight vigil and moment of silence that evening, standing on the porch with one of the adults, looking out, at the sky. Our neighbors, the land around us. For a moment I felt like a patriot, though I barely understood the word. For a moment, in my young soul, I felt the fury, unbearable grief, determination, and pride of a thousand souls. A hundred thousand. A million.

Never Forget.

I have NEVER forgotten that day. The details may have grown fuzy, the exact faces and names blurred. But the feelings? Those remain and will forever. And they have GROWN.

I will NEVER forget what they did to us. That day and the years to come. What that day sparked in what was my then-future. Now-past. War. Fear. Anger. Strength. Patriotism. Lies. Truth. Pride. Honor. Togetherness. Division. Determination. Survival. Above all, survival.

My feelings about what EXACTLY happened that day. The things I know and feel that are strictly my own thoughts, opinions, feelings, knowledge.... are too complicated to discuss here. [Readers may feel free to ask me in private, but only if you are willing to have an open mind, learn, or at least be willing to agree to disagree. My thoughts and opinions on this subject specifically are not something that can be changed by any of you, I promise. Divine judgement will and has been passed.]

However, my long reaching experiences from a metaphysical standpoint, I will share. Not only for me, not only to bring understanding to those who will read this next part with open mind and heart, but also for those I speak of and for. To grieve them, to honor them, to share their stories. To remember them in my own way.

**⚠️If you do not believe in reincarnation, inheriting emotions and memories from others [versions of you or simply others for which you have a connection], and a universal connection for souls, etc, this next part may be of little interest to you. It may make you roll your eyes, or laugh, or scoff. Or it may make you think. It may intrigue you. Either way, whatever your reaction. I will delete any disrespectful, hateful or bully-type comments regarding this post in general but especially this part. These are the experiences I was given. Take it or leave it. Read on or scroll on. Whatever you feel is for you. This is also a trigger warning: the rest of this post is a graphic depiction of three peoples deaths in the towers that day. Here is your chance to exit the reading of this post*

For many years, virtually since the one year anniversary until this date last year, I have been assigned to grieve these people. I have a soulful connection to this event. I feel them. I have relived their memories in my dreams every year for the three days surrounding these moments.

Last year, I did my own version, essentially, of a grief and death ritual and was able to release these connections. The feelings can still be recalled, the memories still crisp in my mine if I think about them, but the sting is lessened, the edges blurred, and compulsory side of it gone. So I am finally able to share these. For their sakes and mine.

She was on the 51st floor when they called for the evacuation. She had felt the shaking, the impact. She had heard rumors that a plane had hit the tower. She didn't know what to believe.

She was on the tenth floor when the smoke started filling the staircase. She was on the 6th when the heat became noticeable. Every floor they reached, more people were added to the scared, confused throng. Every floor, she felt the nervous tension increase a notch. Every minute the smells changed and increased. Sweat, smoke, fear. Every step the sounds became more and more overwhelming. Hurried and panicked voices, alarms blarring, Feet stomping. Bangs and cracks and crashes. Screaming from elsewhere. And this strange roaring or whirring that was getting louder and louder.

She was in a large group now. As she ran her hand along the wall, rounding a corner to descend more steps, she touched the faded black number four. The grit on her fingers transfixed her for a mere second. A combination of smoke, water from the automated sprinklers, and paint peeling from age and the current heat. The wall once pristine white was yellowed.

She felt so confused, so scared. It was so hot. So hard to breathe.

She had just reached the railing to descend to level three when the shaking started.

A rushing wind; hot, stifling. Screaming from above. It got darker and darker as seconds ticked by, almost in slow motion in her mind. She looked up and let out a small breathy scream of horror as she realized: the floors above her were collapsing. As the staircase around her crumbles and collapses, and she feels the debris begin to rain upon her, she closes her eyes and the world goes black.

She was almost out. She was almost there. Instead she remains a lost and missing person. Among the many whose body was never fully recovered. This is the only lost soul whose memory I retained in such detail, semi forced to relive it every year. The two others I was given were much less detailed, much less....full of grity details. But still just as tragic. Still just was heart and soul wrenching.

On the 101st floor the smoke was everywhere. The heat all encompassing. The fire was creeping closer. As she hid beneath the desk, she tried the phones again. Tried again to call for help. All around her her friends and coworkers were trying cell phones and desk phones, yelling to each other across the room and across to other offices, trying to get and share whatever information they had.

Were they supposed to wait here? Try to escape? Time passed and soon their decision was made for them when the fire began filling the hallway outside their set of offices. Shelter in place and wait for rescue. The firemen were there, on their way to get them out.

She looked around and let out a breath of despair and yet somehow acceptance. She looked at the terrified faces of her co-workers, and she knew in that moment. No one was going to reach them in time.

She gave her desk neighbor an attempt at a reassuring smile, took a deep breath, and looked out the window at the sky. The ground rumbled, she said a prayer, and felt the beginning of tears as the floor gave way beneath her.

Whether her family recieved closure or not is unknown to me. I sincerely hope they did.

As he looked out the window he was crouching near, the glass long ago blown out, he trembled. The wind rushing through the room was hot. He wiped sweat off his brow and gazed around the room. He quickly shut his eyes, trying to catch his breath that seemed to be permanently out of reach.

His guilt and regret over what he had done to get where he was and the followup realization that none of it mattered anymore is/was palpable to anyone who witnessed his final moments.

He opened his eyes again, glancing across the room once more and just as quickly shut his eyes once more. The image of his secretary sprawled across the floor, eyes wide, one shoe missing, no longer breathing..... burned into his mind for the short remainder of his time on this planet.

The debris had struck her on the head as parts of the ceiling collapsed. The giant crater in the center of the room preventing the few that survived the initial impact from escaping. Now they few were scattered around the remainder of the room, all in similar positions to him. Looking around, scared, just trying to survive.

The smoke began to thicken. Breathing became impossible. His head began to pound. He got dizzy, his face tingly. Oxygen deprivation. He couldn't breath. Edges of his vision grew darker and darker. He laid down and closed his eyes, this time never to reopen.

May they all rest in peace. May there always be justice and judgment against all who were and are responsible. May we never forget what they did.

[mythicalmisery]

Chapter 5 : 🥘

cw: none, filler chapter

Rowan’s gaze slowly lifted to the man who sat down in front of him. He was tall and built, roughly the same age as himself give or take. Despite his stature, he was graceful in the way he moved. His clothes were unremarkable, although ensured some kind of money. Rowan initially thought him to be a humble merchant, but as he observed more closely, he noticed the man's keen vigilance, eyes scanning the drunk patrons for potential threats. This sharp attention suggested either the watchfulness of a seasoned soldier or perhaps, a touch of unwarranted paranoia. He was really counting on the latter. He narrowed his eyes a fraction out of annoyance from being interrupted during his much-needed dinner break. Although, he couldn’t deny he was a little curious about the stranger who had no hesitation pulling up a chair. 

Before he could tell the man to fuck off, he interjected as if he anticipated Rowan’s rather warm greeting.

“I have a proposition for you, from the King,” the man stated rather quickly, fearing he’d lose his nerve perhaps. 

Rowan's hand that was holding his wooden spoon froze mid-air at the man's words and slowly lowered back into the hot stew. He stared at the stranger, trying to read his expressions or pick up any deception. The prolonged silent staring made the other man uncomfortable causing him to fidget in his wooden seat, making it creak under his weight. He wasn’t nervous, a man his size rarely was….more anxious he thought.

"You are a huntsman, are you not?" the man attempted to break the silence, his voice wavering slightly.

“And who are you to speak for the King?” Rowan finally responded, deciding to get straight to the point and ignoring the stranger's question. He merely wanted to finish his damn stew in peace.

“My name is Isaac. I am a trusted advisor to the King and legionnaire of the first order,” he said in a hushed tone, clearly trying to keep their conversation discreet and not reveal himself to the patrons around them. 

“Well Isaac, what makes you think I would want to help your King?” Rowan said testing the waters. He wouldn’t dare let it show but he would be a fool not to feel nervous talking to the King’s legionnaire. He also wouldn’t admit how impressed he was that Isaac held the said position at his age. 

Isaac’s eye twitched, resisting the offense on behalf of his King - Isaac may believe the King a cruel bastard, but it was his King all the same - eliciting a small smirk from Rowan as the right side of his mouth turn up slightly.

“No one is foolish enough to turn down an opportunity to win the favor of the King. He would pay you handsomely, and you could be onto the next town doing whatever it is you do when you finish,” Isaac said pointedly. 

Rowan took in his words. Tempting. He truly was in no condition to turn down a job. Winter was soon approaching and if he didn't travel south in time, it would be a difficult one with what meager funds remained from his last job. He wasn’t one to roll over so easily though. “And what exactly would I be doing?” he inquired. 

“We need a person found, a…servant,” Isaac replied hesitantly, his unease palpable, though Rowan decided not to comment on it just yet.

“Why not send soldiers to bring them back? Why not just get a new servant?”

A loud bang and boisterous laughter from behind made them turn, both men on alert. A drunk man had fallen over from his seat and passed out as his friends howled at his misfortune from above.

Isaac slowly turned his head back to Rowan, suddenly remembering where and just how exposed they were. Vulnerable to prying ears. He leaned in resting his elbows on the wooden table, face enveloped in the candle flame merely six inches in front of him.

“Let's just say the King wants this kept under wraps… Are you interested or not?” Isaac stared intensely, his desperation veiled but slightly cracking  under the flame's flickering light. Rowan figured he was the poor man's last resort, he knew firsthand how hard it was to appease a King.

Rowan leaned back, considering the proposal and weighing the risks. He could feel the heat of the fireplace creeping through the stone behind his shoulder blades. The vagueness on Isaac's part was setting off alarm bells in his mind. Whenever a King sought discretion, it often involved dangerous and unpleasant tasks, leading to casualties. Yet, he needed the money, and a favor from a King was always handy to have. There was also nothing stopping the King from killing him after he completed his mission but he’d cross that bridge when he got there. 

“How much?” he asked, showing no interest in his voice.

“You get paid half up front to expense the trip, and the rest upon fulfillment. 500 Krones.”

On the outside, he simply nodded. On the inside, he almost shit himself. His services didn’t come cheap, he was good at his job and skilled but he was never paid that much for a single job. This supposed servant must either be a culinary god or more than what he appeared. 

“Alright, Isaac. I’m incentivized to take the job, on one condition. Who am I actually looking for? No King is shelling out that kind of money for a lowly servant,” Rowan demanded.

“You’ll receive more details when you agree to take the job,” Isaac replied flatly, lifting his elbow from the table and extending his clammy hand. After a moment of thought and ignoring all his common sense and instincts, Rowan conceded and took the other man's hand within his own, silently cursing himself. 

Isaac leaned back in his creaky chair and looked at the huntsman, his contemplative expression lingering for a moment before he finally spoke in a hushed tone.

“The only thing you need to know…… the servant isn’t exactly a servant.”

“He’s the King’s striker.”

Rowan took in his words as an unfamiliar sense of dread began to snake its way up his spine.

[askthechronoverse]

Chapter Ten: You Don't Even Know Me

Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

The nighttime had come and Rex's cabin was silent. Rex slept on the couch, sleep fitful and shallow. But that was normal for the man. He blinked in the darkness, having woken up for the hundredth time by the slightest noise. He slowly sat up and yawned, vaguely making out movement in the pitch blackness. Before he could get up, something grabbed him that he couldn't see.

"Don't scream. Don't say a word. We need to have a talk, you and I. You are coming with me." The human recognized the voice very quickly, but there was something fundamentally wrong with it: something broken and filled with raw fear and anxiety, like a horrible hurricane that was brewing for years had finally reached land. Rex knew it all too well because of the benefit of hindsight.

"You don't have to do this. You've been-"

"I said not to say a word. You aren't going to talk your way out of this." The voice hissed as Rex could feel the speaker try to drag him away. There was a pressure against his throat as they moved. "Get up. Now. I'm not playing around." The voice was so cold, like this was something his kidnapper was almost trained to do. Rex complied, swallowing against the pressure on his throat. His kidnapper didn't make himself known, moving to stay behind him as Rex turned to head for the door.

"Please. We can talk here. We're alone. My friend had to leave to-"

"No more talking, not until I speak to you again. You're trying my patience." The voice was so desperate, so scared, but the fact the entity worked with experience scared him to his core. Rex just nodded and let the pressure on his throat and the occasional barked order guide him away from his house.

The morning saw the man trapped behind some rubble from a ruined dojo, asleep. But not for long. A sting woke him up. A sting from an invisible hand. He snapped awake and saw… No one.

“Look… Whatever you need, I can help you. We’re friends. I promi-” Another unseen punch came to Rex’s unshaven face, this one much harder. He touched his jaw, knowing from how much it hurt that the punch was going to leave a mark.

“I told you not to talk. I can’t think when you talk.” The familiar voice sounded so stressed. Rex wanted to reach out and hug them, despite what they had done. After a long, respectful silence, the voice spoke again, this time only slightly calmer. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you got here. You emboldened Master Doom by simply being here and now… this mess. Granted, you cleaned up your first one, but I’ll need to clean this one myself. I’ll start with making sure you don’t tell the princess what you saw in Doctor Fox’s lab.”

“I barely know what I saw! What the hell even is Project Lotus?” Rex’s voice was raised now, not trying to keep composure. “Tell me what’s wrong and I can help you!”

“You can’t help us.” If a voice could roll its eyes, this one would have. “What could you ever do to help?”

“How about you try me? You may be shocked at what I can and can’t do for a friend who’s hurting.” Rex folded his arms.

“You still think I’m a friend? You don't know me, RJ. From when I was 16 to when I was in my mid 20's, I was with a crew of conmen and thieves in the Frowntown criminal underground. I am capable of being so much more ruthless than you would have ever hoped you could have been. What could possibly make you believe I'm hurting?”

“Bro, what I hear in your voice was what I heard for a long time in mine before a brick, a cat, a dog, a fox, a hawk crocodile, a construction worker, and a warrior woman taught me to lighten up.” He counted each of these off on his hand. “You’re in pain. A deep pain that feels like you’re drowning miles from shore. Let me throw you a life preserver.”

"Despite all of this… despite the way I've been treating you since this mess began… you want to help?"

"I tried to end existence because I was in pain. Kidnapping and the odd punch is small compared to that." Rex got closer to the shadows and put a hand on the now recoiling being's cheek. "I can make sure things don't go farther than what you've done now. You aren't your fear, your pain, or your anger." His voice was soft now, calm and comforting. He could feel the being lean into his hand.

"But you and I…"

"I have a feeling we're more similar than you think. I can wait until you're ready, but we need to be there for Princess Unikitty as well. She's probably so scared and I don't blame her. Having apocalyptic visions could scare anyone."

“Shut up, shut up, shut up… You couldn’t possibly know the kind of torment we’ve been through.” The voice was breaking down to almost nothing now.

“I know the feeling I described because I still have it. I may be all devil may care and lackadaisical, but I’m still hurting from years of being trapped, scared and alone with no chance of rescue. If what you feel now is even half of what I feel every morning… well, I want to see you rise above the pain. Especially a friend who has been so supportive to me.” Rex looked down for a second.

"Why can't I believe you?" The being snapped back.

"I don't know. Why can't you? Tell me why you can't believe me." Rex was calm, speaking like he was in a casual conversation. "You know my backstory. You have to know. I'm not exactly shy about it anymore."

"Because… this isn't the same kind of pain. I had…no. I owe you no explanation." The last part of the sentence was rushed.

"No, it probably isn't. But you sound like you're so alone and in the dark right now, you can't see the hand extended in front of you, trying to reach out." By this point, the bravado in his voice was gone. "It's gonna be hard. But I'm the one person right now who may have a ghost of a chance of understanding you. Let me in."

"I suppose you aren't incorrect. You are so insistent on being involved in this." The voice cracked, sounding raw.

"You pulled me into this. Literally. My bro wanted me to meet him on Syspocalypstar. I would have been out of the equation in the morning. But now that I'm here, let me be useful to you. We're not so different, you and I." His voice remained soft. "You're scared and angry. That's all the reason you needed. But you still have yet to tell me why." Rex pulled his hand away, trying to lure the wavering kidnapper out from hiding. He frowned when this didn't work.

"If I tell you, can you promise to not tell the princess?"

"I can't. If this is something that is gonna cause her pain down the road because she didn't know-"

"It would cause her pain to know the truth in the present. I can't do this much longer, but I know I must. It's part of my job, one I had forced on me. It's one I take very seriously." The voice was stern now, so much so he sounded almost like a different person.

"I'm offering to share that burden. Whatever is going to happen, you know I'm more than capable of protecting this kingdom." Rex's voice was just as stern. "Let me in. You know how stubborn I can get."

"I… you confuse me so much, RJ. I would have thought you would have been so angry with me. I was almost counting on that famous rage of yours." The voice's disappointed tone could be felt.

"Lost a lot of it because of friends like you. You can't be that angry when you know your friends love you, I guess." The being started to break down now.

"Of course you would be understanding. Why wouldn't you be?" The being's voice was a cross between a growl and a groan. "You're making this so much harder, and it was already hard enough with how I feel about you…"

"Making what harder?" Rex leaned in, curious. Maybe he was going to get an inkling of a plan. "What feelings?"

"I have a job to do. You need to do yours." The voice was completely unraveled now. "Repeat your actions from before the Unification of the Planets." He ignored the question asking him to elaborate on how he felt.

"You… want me to start… Armommageddeon?" Rex backed away. "I couldn't if I wanted to! I was able to do it because of very specific tim-"

"That doesn't matter. She thinks this world is going to end and, if my understanding is correct, she thinks you are the reason why. I need to fulfill a fabricated prophecy."

"I can't help you do that! We fought for months to get this kingdom back and you want to destroy it? You ain't thinkin' straight!"

"I only think straight. This is the only way to keep her from knowing the truth…" The voice cracked like ice on a raging river.

Rex took a slow, deliberate breath. "Why destroy this place? Wouldn't that make things worse?"

"No. She'll just continue to think she saw the future and was able to stop a villian from destroying her new home." The voice was tired but sure, speaking with a calculated coldness.

"What happens if she sees these 'visions' again? Do you want to destroy your own kingdom everytime?"

"I have a job to do. If I have to destroy the kingdom every day until I am forgotten in the Bin of Storaj to achieve that goal, I will do what I must." Despite the sureness behind the words, the voice shook, like the speaker wanted nothing more than to melt away.

"This villain routine isn't you. You're kind, thoughtful, loyal. You're… one of my closest friends. In two different timelines, I looked forward to spending time with you. Please. Don't do this."

"What do you propose I do, RJ? If you know me so damn well, what should I do‽" The voice was in near panic now, accented by the sound of teardrops hitting the fractured concrete.

"I keep tellin' ya: be honest with me! Tell me what she's going through! Help me help her!" Rex's voice was desperate, his hand reaching out to the being.

"...You know nothing. All you need to know is that I can't drag her into this." The speaker sounded like they just wanted to run from this whole thing.

"Then don't waste your time with me and go find her. I'm fine. She's not. Abandon the whole "gonna destroy everything" plan and do your actual job." Rex shook his head. If he knew better, he could have suspected this voice was simply stalling at this point.

"I… I don't know what I want…I do have a job to do… but is it selfish of me to want things to continue, to want everything to just fall apart?"

"Look, I have no idea. I don't know what the issue is. What is Project Lotus?"

"It's a failsafe, several contingency plans stacked into each other like nesting dolls. We made an agreement in the first days of this kingdom to keep her from knowing the truth." The voice spoke with more confidence now. "Project Lotus is that agreement. …I can't believe I'm doing this… It may be better to show you than tell you. Follow me." The being started to head down the mountain, pulling the Master Breaker after him. 

[neon-junkie]

Five-oh-Thirst

Summary: The 501st boys have finally reached their breaking point; they just HAVE to have you, and Jesse makes it his mission to recruit you into their shenanigans. After a night out at 79's, you're spoilt by a handful of Troopers, and a Captain who's late to the party.

Pairing: Female Jedi Reader x Rex, Jesse, Fives, Kix, Hardcase, Dogma & Tup

Word count: 12k

Tags: Shameless smut, Gangbang, Drinking, Double penetration, Praise kink, Voyeurism, Military names, Aftercare, Morning after pill.

Notes: this is so fucking slutty and i loved writing every second of it >:) sorry if some of the boys are a little OOC, im still new to writing these hotties. Tumblrs formatting is shite, so i’d suggest reading this on AO3 (under the same username.)

To say that you're 'close' with the 501st is an understatement. Close isn't quite the word you could use to describe the bond you have with this boisterous bunch of clones. You may be their Commander, but you're also a friend, and soon to be a lover. You've had your fair share of drunken nights out with the lot, getting rowdy in 79's, dragging each other's asses home, falling asleep in cuddle piles in their barracks. Yes, you shouldn't be mingling like this with your squad, but it's hard to not get so attached.

Anakin has warned you over and over about both your attachment and feelings, but you've seen the way he talks to them, Rex specifically. Anakin has let his emotions lead him whenever his men are hurt or in danger, and maybe that's why he always gives you a wink during his lectures. He knows what it's like, and he's only attempting to follow the Jedi code, teaching you in the process.

Speaking of Jedi codes, apparently rocking up to the Jedi cruiser bridge with a cup of caf in hand is something to be frowned upon. What? you're tired, and it's not like Anakin has asked his men to get him a cup of caf before. Obi-wan has done this exact same thing also! So, because you're a Padawan, you're not allowed to do it? Sheesh. The hypocrisy.

Despite Anakins disproving glare, the briefing continues flawlessly, as does the mission. Luck must have been on your side, or the force, depending on what you believe in. The Separatists crawled away with their tails between their legs, leaving the planet Naboo alone once more.

A course is set for Coruscant, and the Jedi cruiser launches into hyperspace, taking roughly seven hours to return home. That time is yours to do as you please, and you decide that a nap is in order.

Walking to your quarters takes a good ten minutes, seeing as how large this cruiser is. You travel down an array of corridors, having Troopers stop and salute you as you pass. It's a touching gesture, but sometimes you hate being the centre of attention. You understand that, to the clones, it's a sign of respect, one that they hold dearest in their hearts; you tried to get them to stop once, and only insulted them in the process, so you swiftly gave up and let them continue.

One Trooper in particular calls out your name from behind, and you rotate to see ARC Trooper Jesse approaching, his helmet tucked under his arm, and his other hand salutes you as he approaches. "Commander, do you have a minute?"

"For you, Jesse? Always," you say with a smile.

That smile is mirrored right back at you, and Jesse gestures for you to step down a quiet corridor to talk in private. He doesn't speak up at first, scratching the back of his neck nervously, but you allow him to take his time. Whatever's on the tip of his tongue must be really important.

"Commander, this is a... strange request to make," Jesse begins, and looks for your approval before continuing.

"Go on."

"Well, the boys and I were talking... and uh, you know how we like to de-stress by going to 79's?" Jesse mutters, keeping his voice quiet.

"Yes?" you question, nodding at the same time.

"And by de-stress, we like to... you know, pick up women there," Jesse shrugs, avoiding eye contact as he speaks.

Something in your gut informs you that you know what's coming next, and it explains why Jesse is stalling his request so much. You continue nodding as he speaks, squinting your eyes ever so slightly, suspicious of where this is heading.

"We've been uh, wanting to invite... you along, but we're not sure if that follows your erm, codes?" Jesse pulls the most panicked expression as he finally spits the words out. You think you know what he's asking, but you'll need to dig a little deeper, just to be certain.

"Going to 79's in the first place is against my Code... I think?" you reply, uncertain on what the Jedi code says about nightclubs and getting drunk with clones. "I thought you would know by now that I bend the rules in my favour, without others knowing, of course."

"Oh, that's a relief," Jesse sighs, and removes his hand from his neck. "I mean, you shouldn't, but we all break some rules here and there, don't we?"

"Yeah," you say with a shrug. "What exactly are you asking from me, Jesse? Be clear with your words, Trooper," you order in a teasing manner, noticing how the tip of Jesse's ears turn pink at your words.

"How about... the next time we all go out for drinks, we... take you back instead of some random woman?"

Oh.

There's a heated knot in your stomach, twisting and turning at the thought of sleeping not only with Jesse, but a handful of men. They're all attractive in their own unique ways, and you applaud them for how they create their individuality, through hairstyles, facial hair, and tattoo's. Not only does it make them easier to identity, but it really helps express their personality, and how they may act on the battlefield.

And the thought of having a bunch of these handsome men taking care of you? Who would say no to that?

"Who do you mean by 'we'?" you question out of curiosity.

"Uh, well, it depends on who comes out with us. I mean, all the boys have spoken about it, and all of them are down," Jesse shrugs, and rubs the back of his neck once more.

They've spoken about this? All of them? You must be quite the catch.

"Why? Is there someone you want to avoid?" Jesse then questions, and you instantly shake your head in response.

"No, I'm just curious. I... didn't know you all felt that way towards me," you sheepishly reply, and Jesse flashes you a concerned expression.

"You're kidding me, right? Have you noticed the way we all speak to you? The way we are around you? Even General Skywalker has told us multiple times to cool it," Jesse nervously laughs, clutching his helmet tighter.

You laugh with him, your mind replaying many incidents where the boys have let it slip. Kix has made multiple inappropriate jokes as he's been patching you up. Hardcase is always offering his lap as a seat whenever you're at 79's, and that's an offer that you may need to finally take up. Dogma will attempt to follow the code, but you've caught him staring at your ass more than once. Fives is Fives, and that's all that needs to be said. And Tup is too shy to make any bold moves, but you can tell he has a soft spot for you, as his face turns bright red whenever you're within ten feet of him.

As for Rex and Jesse, they flirt when it's appropriate, meaning when they're not in earshot of General Skywalker.

"Now that you mention it..." your words trailing off, thinking about all those moments.

"See," Jesse points. "So, are you in?" he questions, scrunching his face up in fear of rejection.

"As long as you boys can share," you instruct, knowing what they're like. "I'm in."

Jesse fist pumps the air as he lets out a "yesss!" but swiftly attempts to cool it, trying to not let his excitement burst. "I'll let the men know. We were planning on heading out tonight?" Jesse offers.

"I'll be there," you smile. "Make sure you and your men look good for me, Trooper," you playfully order.

"Of course, Commander," Jesse nods, and allows you to end the conversation there. If you're going out later, then you definitely need that nap right now. Jesse lands a cheeky slap on your bum as you turn to walk off, and you flash him a smile over your shoulder, heading down the corridor to your quarters.

----------

Could this be considered a date? or just an arranged hookup with a bunch of men? Either way, you're using the night as an excuse to dress up, not that you need an excuse to begin with.

That nap does wonders for you, although it could be considered more of a sleep, since as you woke up, you were arriving back on Coruscant. It's mid-afternoon, giving you plenty of time to get ready for tonight. Upon arrival, you take a trip downtown to purchase something to wear for tonight, and you have just the right outfit in mind.

The dress is ever-so-slightly out of your price range, but you know it'll be worth it. The 501st take pride in their colour, blue, and you know their jaws will drop when they see you in their colour. The dress fits the way you like it, bold and flashy, enough to turn more than your legion's heads. You pair the dress with some white heels and a bag, Trooper colours all around; you're really milking it, but Maker, don't you look good!

Hours later and you're ready for tonight, checking yourself out in your apartment mirror. You're fortunate to have your own place outside of the Jedi temple; it's tiny and run down, but enough to get you away whenever you need it. Sadly, it's far too small to fit a handful of clones in, so the barracks will have to do.

One taxi later, and you're outside 79's, queueing up to enter the busy club. Happy hour has just begun as you enter, and you remove the comlink from your bag, pressing a button to inform your men that you've arrived.

Nervously, you gaze around the club, ignoring the random sets of eyes on you. You're only after one group of men, and thankfully, one of them approaches you.

"Commander?" Kix calls out. As you turn to look at him, his face lights up, gesturing to the outfit you're wearing. "Oh, Commander!" Kix sighs, gawking over the sight of you in his legions colours.

"Not too much?" you question, gesturing to the outfit.

"No, it's just right," Kix sighs yet again. "And I like the white heels and bag, nice touch!"

Of course Kix has noticed those minor details.

"Where are the others?" you question, and Kix offers you his arm in response. You take it, following Kix through the club, eventually coming across a cosy booth, full to the brim with your boys.

Kix's reaction to your outfit was sweet and wholesome, something you'd expect from him. Fives on the other hand is hollering like a dog as you approach, checking you out with a whistle, doing everything he can to hype you up. "Commander," he purrs, and wraps an arm around your waist. "Here for me?" he jokingly questions, making you laugh at his forwardness.

"She came here for all of us!" Dogma butts in, swatting at Fives's hand around your waist.

"Oh, so you are joining in, Dogma? I didn't think you were one to break the rules," Fives bites back, and gestures for you to take a seat as he talks.

"This is different, Fives," Dogma mutters. You zone out to their bickering as you shuffle around the booth, finding a seat between Hardcase and Tup.

Tup, like the sweetheart he is, quietly tells you "you look beautiful," with flushed cheeks. Only for Hardcase to add "yeah, you look hot!"

It's hard to believe that these men are all clones. Their reactions are so vast, but they all express the same thing - you look good, and no doubt, they're going to be all over you tonight. They look just as good as you do, maybe even better; they've dressed up for tonight, sporting fine button-up shirts, all of them looking clean and tidy, for once, not covered in dirt from the battlefield.

Jesse offers to buy your first round, and insists that you stay at the booth with the others. He probably fears that another batch of clones will latch onto you the second you stand up. Are the men in here aware that you're a Jedi? Or do they assume you're some poor, unfortunate soul, who's been sucked into spending the night with this bunch? You're hoping for the second assumption, as the last thing you want is some tattle-tale clone recognizing you and ratting you out to the Jedi order.

Jesse returns with your drink and a round of shots, and so, the night begins. The shot is surprisingly nice, as is your drink, but the next set of shots? Eh, not so much. It seems that the more you drink, the worst the shots taste, and you have to turn down the fourth one. You're not going to be standing if you continue chugging drinks at this rate; how your men can drink like this is beyond you.

Dogma and Tup have relaxed in their own way, joining in the conversation every so often, although Dogma is still being teased for 'breaking so many rules.' Hardcase and Fives are as loud as each other, and are currently attempting to impress you through a series of arm wrestling matches. Jesse seems content, on a nice, tipsy level, and has had his eyes on you all night. Kix is simply vibing, not visibly drunk, but bubblier than usual.

You continue peering around, questioning who's missing, and then it suddenly dawns on you.

"Wait a minute! Where's Rex?" you yelp, noticing the lack of a certain blonde clone.

"You've got all of us here, and the only man on your mind is the Captain?" Fives tuts, breaking his concentration from the arm wrestling match. Hardcase takes up the opportunity to take victory, slamming Fives's hand down onto the table.

"Yet again, I am victorious!" Hardcase states, and Fives sputters at his remark.

"That's not fair! Our Commander was asking us a question," Fives argues, and the pair begin bickering between themselves.

You decide to intervene, turning to Hardcase and asking "so, what would you like as your prize?"

Your question is met with a sea of "oooh!"'s and "pick something good, Hardcase!" His face alone is priceless, his emotions switching between shocked, flustered, and cheeky. Hardcase then trails into thought, and after barely any thinking time, he settles on his prize. "For you to finally take up my offer and sit on my lap, sweetheart," he replies, patting his thighs as he talks.

A smirk escapes your lips as you stand, shuffling over to sit on the tattooed clones lap. Hands find their way to your waist, and you're almost certain that Hardcase is purring as he cuddles up to you.

"How is she?" Kix questions, as if you're not sitting in earshot of his question.

"Comfiest ass in the galaxy," Hardcase hums, pulling you higher onto his lap as he speaks. He settles his chin on your shoulder, fine stubble pressed against your skin, and from the expressions of those around you, you can tell that they're all jealous. They'll have their time with you eventually, whether it's here, or at the barracks later. The night is still young.

"My turn," Dogma announces out of nowhere, shuffling out of the booth. None of you have any idea what he's on about, until he turns to you and asks "what are you drinking, Commander?"

You tell him your order, followed up with "and stop calling me Commander! We're not at work, you don't need to call me that."

Dogma apologizes with a soft laugh before making his way over to the bar, followed by Jesse and Kix.

"Is it bad that I kinda like calling you it?" Fives questions, and you know exactly what he's implying.

"The only places you should be calling me Commander is on the battlefield, and in the bedroom," you purr, and you're met with a fawning, lustful expression from Fives, who is more than satisfied at your answer.

"Yes, Ma'am," he purrs back, and you take a mental note for later.

"You know, none of you answered my question," you begin, and the rest of the clones look at you in confusion. "Where is Rex?"

"He said he's busy with a meeting, and that he'll meet us at the barracks later," Fives explains, softly shrugging as he speaks. In Fives' eyes, that means one there's one less clone for you to give your attention to, meaning more for him.

"That's a shame," you sigh. The thought of Rex being here right now is a curious topic on your mind; would he attempt to maintain his high-ranking status, remaining professional despite knowing what's going to happen later? Or would he throw all of that out of the window, taking the first opportunity to straddle you onto his hips and remind his men who's in charge?

"Don't worry, sweetheart. We'll take good care of you whilst the Captain's gone," Hardcase smugly comments, placing a gentle kiss to your shoulder as he eyes you up.

Hardcase stays true to his word, as do the rest of your men. Dogma, Jesse, and Kix return shortly after with the next round of drinks, and lo-and-behold, more shots. You have entered the stage of tipsy, sitting on the drunken fence by the time you finish your drink. Hardcase offers to buy the next round, but you brush him off, insisting that it's your turn. "Since you're all taking care of me, the least I can do is return the favour," you explain, and a few of the men chuckle at your reasoning.

Tup, the sweetheart that he is, helps you up and over to the bar. You're able to walk, even in these heels, but you know that Tup's presence is actually a way of telling others clones that you're already taken for. To your surprise, his hand settles around your waist as you prop yourself up against the bar top, waiting for somebody to come and serve you.

"How's your night going?" Tup questions. "Enjoying yourself?"

"Yeah, are you?" you reply with a nod, curling up into Tup's side.

"Mhm," Tup nods in agreement. "I just need a few more drinks down me," he adds, and you understand how he feels. If you weren't the centre of attention, then you'd be just as quiet as Tup is, shying away nervously in the cornerless booth.

"Let me get one for you," you offer, and Tup takes you up on it.

"Thank you, Comma- I mean, uh, love." Tup's expression turns sour, blushing at his fumbled reply. You brush the nerves off him by placing a kiss on his cheek, and watch in amazement as his face begins turning a different shade of red.

Tup mutters something to you, and you almost miss his words over the volume of the music. "You missed," he boldly states. Tup's definitely stolen that line from Fives, or has been taught it - either way, it's something Fives would say, and you know how close those two are.

"Oh?" you cheekily sigh. You're about to follow it up, until the bartender arrives, pulling your attention away from the clone.

Once your order is placed, you turn back to Tup, wanting to finish where you left off. He looks at you, then looks away, pulling an embarrassed face. Your fingertips are placed below Tup's chin, gently turning his head to face you, and before Tup can say anything, you lean in to kiss him.

Tup freezes up, before melting into the kiss, moving his head to fit against yours. A hand finds its way to the back of your neck, holding you there, as if to reassure himself that yes, this really is happening. Tup's kisses match his personality, sweet and gentle, but the tongue that slides across your lower lip suggests there's more to him than meets the eye.

You can overhear the sounds of cheering in the background, and you just know that it's coming from your men. You break away, not to be rude, but because you don't want the poor bartender to be stood there awkwardly as you're busy snogging a clone. Thankfully, they arrive moments later, and you two soon return to the booth with drinks and shots in hand.

Fives applauds his vod as Tup sheepishly sits down, and you go to take a seat beside him, until Jesse pulls you onto his lap. "You've had enough fun with him, come and give us some attention!" he playfully nips, and follows his statement up with a kiss on your neck.

"There's plenty of me to go around," you bite back, wiggling your hips slightly, grinding your ass on Jesse's lap. He sighs heavily at your move, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you there.

You turn your attention to the drinks that you just brought, downing yet another shot, and washing it down with your beverage.

Minutes later, and you're really starting to feel the liquor running through your veins, as well as the undying urge to dance. Jesse is willing, and Hardcase lets you two know that he'll meet you over there, once he's gone and used the refresher. The rest of the clones stay seated, to your surprise, but then again, they don't seem like the type to dance. Well, Fives possibly, but he's barely able to stand, let alone dance, and Kix is nursing him back to soberness with many glasses of water.

Jesse follows you over to the dance floor, your hand in his, and it's busier than you expected. The dance floor is mostly full of clones and their squadrons, all celebrating various victories and whatnot, with a few women lingering about. You understand by now that women only come to this bar to pick up the clones, and can you blame them? Bless the Kaminoans for picking out Jango Fett to be their donor, as his genetics are excelling in all departments.

"My turn with you already?" Jesse questions as he begins dancing with you, swaying in time with the music.

"We've only been here for a few hours. I thought you'd be more patient?" you tease, and Jesse gives you a look.

"I'm patient when I want to be, sweetheart," Jesse shrugs. "But for you? I've been waiting a long time for this," he explains as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

The tattooed clone smiles down at you, and the glisten in his eyes informs you that his patience truly is running thin. But how long will it be before it runs out? Or how much can you rile him up before he breaks?

"I'm sure you can wait a little longer," you flirt back, trailing your hand along his shirt, fingertips gliding over each of his buttons. You meet his collar and hook a finger over the fabric, gently pulling his head down to your level.

Jesse smirks as he replies "I don't think I can," before pressing his lips to yours. You can tell that Jesse's patience is running thin from the way he kisses you, hungry and lustful, playfully nipping at your lower lip. Your hands wrap around his neck, and you have to remind yourself that you left your bag with the others - that's why your hands are empty.

The hands on your waist trail down to your ass, and Jesse boldly grabs more than a handful, pulling your body tightly against his as he kneads your ass. You break the kiss with a yelp, and remind yourself that you're still in public, thankfully with no eyes set on you. "Jesse!" you playfully swat him, and he chuckles against your skin as his lips trail over your neck.

"You started without me!" A disappointed voice calls out, and warmth appears against your back.

Hardcase has returned from the refresher, pouting because the party has apparently started without him. Jesse moves his hands back to your waist, almost as if he's giving permission for Hardcase to press his crotch against your ass, sandwiching you between the two, tattooed clones. Your cheeks quickly turn red, and you must look more flustered than you feel, as the face that Hardcase and Jesse send each other informs you that they have something planned.

"So," Hardcase begins, his eyes flicking down to yours. "When are we taking you back?"

"Soon?" you nervously reply, questioning your own motives. It's hard to concentrate with an uneven sea turning in your stomach, but the liquor is thankfully helping - you'd be a lot more flustered if you were sober right now.

"Soon?" Jesse repeats, raising a brow at your reply. "Why not now, sweetheart?" he asks.

"Yeah," Hardcase nods, and then dips his head down to kiss along your neck. His kisses trail up to your ear, nipping at that sensitive spot behind it before stating "you look like you need us to fill you up."

A bold, yet true statement, but you're unsure if you want to leave just yet. Do you want to continue your teasing here? Or click your fingers and order your men to take you home and fuck you?

"She's thinkin' about it," Hardcase states, directing his words to Jesse.

"We know what you're thinking, babe, and we think that you've teased us enough already," Jesse says to you, and kneads his hands on your waist, picking and pulling at the fabric of your dress. Bold of him to assume what you're thinking - you're the Jedi here, not him. Either way, his thoughts are true. You have teased them enough, but there's no harm in drawing it out just a little longer, is there?

Jesse steals a kiss from you again, and you can feel him smiling as you let out a soft moan. Hardcase continues kissing up your neck, rutting his semi-hard cock against your ass; his lips wander down below your neckline, and he bites and sucks at your skin, leaving a purple blotch behind. It's in just the right place, an area where your Jedi robes will cover it up, but if you want to tease him on the battlefield, all you need to do is pull back at the thin layer of clothing, revealing his mark.

Just as Hardcase is about to kiss your neck again, a voice calls out "get a room!"

Oh yeah, you're doing all this on the dance floor of 79's. Whoops. Jesse pulls away and chuckles at the strangers remark. "See? Even he thinks we should get going," he states, and you finally agree to make a move.

Jesse leads you off the dance floor, and Hardcase keeps his hand comfortably around your waist. You wander back over to the booth, picking your drink up off the table and finishing it off. "It's time, boys!" Hardcase states, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh?" Fives looks over to you, flashing you a cheeky grin. It seems the many glasses of water on the table have finally brought him back to a stable level; Kudos to Kix for dealing with him.

Tup passes you your bag as he shuffles off the sofas, and you thank him by pulling him down for a quick kiss. You break away with a soft laugh as you hear Fives complain "where's mine, huh?"

"You can get it when we're in the taxi," you explain.

Fives swats Hardcase's arm from around your waist, replacing it with his own, and mouths the words "my turn," to Hardcase, who simply laughs at his eagerness. You and Fives take the lead, exiting the club with your squad following behind.

--------

The ride back to the barracks is... eventful, as is entering the barracks itself. Jesse and Kix walk ahead, pretending to be drunker than they actually are so they can distract the guards with their very existence. The rest of you sneak by, sheltered by a wall of horny clones, and you're ushered into their dorm.

The second you step foot into the room, Fives is all over you. With his hands on your hips, he leads you over to the wall, pushing you up against it and locking his lips with yours. Fives's hand trails up to grab your bag, pulling it from your grasp, and chucking it onto a nearby bed, leaving your hands free to wrap around his neck. He's impatient and needy, hungrily kissing you, his hands struggling to find a single place to rest; they slide over your waist, down your back, and grab at your ass, before trailing up and repeating the process all over again.

"Kriff, calm down. She's not going anywhere," one of his vods comments. Kix possibly?

Fives ignores the comment and continues turning your legs into jelly, making up for all his apparent 'lost time.' When he does finally pull away, he's grinning. His pupils are blown, full of lust, eyeing you up like a piece of meat, until somebody swats him away.

"I'm the one who proposed this to her, so I get first dibs," Jesse intervenes. There's something thrilling about the way they're speaking about you, as if you're not there, as if you're their property. In some ways, you are theirs - you have always been theirs - but only tonight have things finally taken a step forward.

Somebody has dimmed the lights, enough to set the mood, but still light enough that you can see what's happening, and so can everyone else. Everybody's watching as Jesse leads you over to what you assume is his bunk, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. Your knees fall onto either side of his hips, spreading your legs, your dress hiking up your thighs.

Jesse places his hands on your waist, holding you as his lips take over from where Fives left off. As he kisses you, he pulls down on your waist, grinding you over his semi-hard cock, reminding you of what's to come. You feel the hem of your dress slip up slightly over your ass, and one of the clones sighs at the small teaser.

Jesse knows what his vods are after, so his hands trail up your back, finding the zip. He slowly unzips your dress, taking his time to reveal what lies beneath, and breaks the kiss so he can pull your dress over your head, discarding it on the bunk next to him.

Needless to say, the air is filled with an array of praise, mutters and moans at the sight of you. You're straddling the ARC Trooper in your underwear and heels, now being freed of your bra. Jesse groans as your tits fall free, and moves his lips down your body, along your neck, over your collarbone, until he latches onto a nipple.

You feel something tug at your foot, and peer over your shoulder to see Hardcase removing your heels; he's polite (and sober) enough to place them down neatly, rather than tossing them to the floor, or worse, throwing them at his vods. Hardcase then stands up, peering over you, and prevents your lips from feeling lonely. He keeps your mouth occupied, whilst Jesse flicks between both of your tits, and both of them find their way to your panties.

"Need to get these off you," Hardcase mutters against your lips. Hardcase hooks his fingers around one strap, Jesse has the other, and the pair slowly slide them off you, moving with your body as you shuffle from Jesse's lap to remove them. You're left naked in a room full of your men, the men that have served under you for a few years now, but it seems that Jesse is the one taking the lead tonight.

"C'mere," Jesse mutters as he manhandles you off his lap. He shimmies around and lays down, his head at the foot of the bed, feet resting against his headboard. Jesse pats his shoulders before making grabby motions with his hands, signalling for you to climb aboard.

With one knee on either side of Jesse's face, you straddle him. Despite the alcohol still pumping through your system, you're still nervous, exposing yourself fully to your men. They're all reacting positively, a few of them palming themselves through their smart pants. Your nervousness doesn't stay for long, being brushed away as Jesse pulls your cunt down onto his face.

He licks a firm stripe over your pussy, followed by a few more curious ones, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. You yelp, instinctively grinding down on Jesse's face, and he seems to like it from the hum he lets out. "Kriff," you overhear one of the clones mutter, and you realize it's Fives when he pipes up with "go on, sweetheart. Fuck his face!"

Jesse nods against your cunt, and the squad seems eager for a show, so, why not?

Firm hands hold onto your thighs, steadying you as you begin rocking back and forth over Jesse's tongue. He's flattened it out nicely, and at this angle, you're able to brush your clit over the wet muscle, grinding oh-so-perfectly. The room is filled with soft words of encouragement, "that's it, doll," and "keep going for us!"

You feel bad that Jesse isn't receiving anything in return, so whilst sitting on his face, you begin unfastening his pants, eventually freeing his cock.

Oh, thank the Maker for those yummy Jango Fett genes.

Jesse is thick, leaking with precum, slightly red at the tip. If he's thick, then that means the rest of them are thick... you're in store for quite a treat.

With one hand barely wrapped around Jesse's cock, you begin pumping his already hard length, earning a whimper from the man beneath you. Your hips have slowed in pace, and Jesse urges you to speed up by grabbing your hips and moving them for you. He takes over, fucking you onto his face for a few moments before steadying your hips again, and wrapping his lips around your clit instead.

You yelp, pumping Jesse's cock faster, and he lets out a similar pleasant sound. Another hand appears on your body, and you peer over your shoulder to see Hardcase grabbing your ass, kneading at your cheeks, playing with them. "Got room for one more?" he questions, eyeing you up.

"Uh-huh," you say with a nod.

Hardcase flashes you a cheeky grin before moving his head down to kiss over your cheeks, lightly biting at each mound, moving from one cheek to the other. Every time it feels like he's getting close to your entrance, he moves across to the other cheek, teasing you with a smile on his lips. You're half tempted to push back onto his face, but he beats you to it by running his tongue over your rim, circling your entrance curiously.

Hardcase doesn't hold back, attacking your entrance with his tongue, his hands kneading at each cheek. Jesse continues flicking his tongue against your clit, and a hand is removed from your thigh; fingertips brush over your pussy, slicking themselves up, before a finger slides into you, not stopping until he reaches his knuckle.

Jesse slowly begins working you open, not that you need it much, considering your heavy arousal. Hardcase notices and takes the hint, wetting his finger in his mouth before pressing the pad against your entrance. He circles your ass a few times, relaxing the muscle, before slowly and gently pushing in. Unlike Jesse, Hardcase takes his time, working with your body to slowly open your ass up.

Your hand continues sloppily pumping Jesse's length, just enough to keep him satisfied; you want to do more, but your thoughts and feelings are already occupied. Just when you think you can't take any more, another clone comes into your line of sight, and asks you those exact words as he knees down in front of you.

"Can you take any more?" Kix questions, eyeing you up, reading your body language.

"Uh-huh," you nod once more, and Kix seems content with your approval.

He plants a light kiss on your lips before standing, and works on unfastening his pants, revealing yet another thick cock for your pleasure. You know exactly what Kix is after, so you open your mouth, awaiting him; he lets out a groan at the sight, and slips his cock past your lips, the underside brushing over your tongue.

Both of your hands are occupied, with one propping your weight up, and the other pumping Jesse; so, you make do with your mouth, sucking him to the best of your ability, and despite being slightly sloppy, Kix seems more than satisfied. He's an understanding man who can clearly see how busy you are.

And oh kriff, you sure are busy.

An orgasm is sitting on the fence, waiting for that final push. Jesse slips another finger into you, curling them and searching for that sweet spot. He knows he's found it when he overhears a muffled moan, and your moan seems to echo, as one of the clones groans at the sight of you. Hardcase removes his finger from your ass, slipping his tongue in and tongue-fucking your small gape, slicking you up so he can begin pushing two fingers in. Like before, he goes slow, understanding the stretch and burn that you're feeling right now.

Hardcase, within time, reaches his knuckles, and gently works his fingers in and out of you. That sensation, added with Jesse's fingers in you, and lips around your clit, is more than enough to have you cumming. You have to slip off Kix's cock to let out a shaky moan, thighs and body trembling as your orgasm takes you. Your forehead presses against Kix's thigh, eyes scrunched shut and mouth hanging open, and Kix soothes you by running his fingers through your hair, keeping it off your face.

You overhear Tup gasp, Dogma whine, and Fives cheer you on. "That's it, sweetheart," one of them encourages, but your mind is so hazy that you're not sure who it was. Either way, the words of encouragement are appreciated, as well as the soothing touches that Kix and Jesse are leaving over your body.

You soon come back around, still trembling from the intensity. Your eyes meet Kix's, who places a kiss on your forehead before settling down on the bunk beside you, muttering something about you having your hands full.

Curiously, you peer over your shoulder, and only then do you realize that Hardcase now has three fingers inside your ass. You're ready, and Hardcase flashes you a look that confirms it. "Wanna see what else we can do?" Hardcase questions, and you swiftly nod, accepting their advances.

Hardcase slowly slips his fingers from your ass, and works on removing his clothes. A kiss is planted on your inner thigh before Jesse gives you the signal to roll off, and you do so, letting the clone crawl out from beneath you. His face is soaked - no, drenched - and your juices have dribbled down over his chin, darkening the collar of his shirt.

"How do I look?" Jesse chuckles, before wiping his mouth and chin with his shirt sleeve. Taking Hardcase's idea, he too undresses, leaving you sat on your knees on his bunk.

Hardcase frees himself from his clothes first, and takes a seat beside you. He's about to get into position, until Fives calls out his protest. "You just had a go with her!" he whines.

"We'll be quick," Hardcase winks. He gets comfortable on the bunk, lying on his back, head pressed against the pillow. Hardcase makes a grabbing motion at you whilst mumbling "I want your ass," and with a laugh, you begin getting into position.

At first, you feel awkward and exposed, settling so your back is pressed to Hardcase's tattooed chest. He takes the lead, swinging your legs on either side of his, spreading you wide, and signalling for you to hold your hips up. Hardcase wraps his hand around the base of his cock and begins searching for your entrance, and with your help, he finds your ass.

"Go at your own pace, babe," Hardcase comments, and allows you to take your time sliding down onto his cock. Despite being prepped, Hardcase is still a stretch, slowly working your ass open. A mixture of groans fill the room as you slowly slide onto him, soon reaching his base, a gasp escaping your lips. "Beautiful," Hardcase comments, and reaches around to flick his fingers over your clit, attempting to help you relax.

"You ready for me?" Jesse questions, and all you can do is nod as nothing escapes your lips. Jesse shuffles up the bed, settling between your thighs. He slowly enters you, making a comment under his breath about how soaked your pussy is.

Jesse slides in with ease, holding his cock deep inside you, bottoming out. He awaits your signal before making a move, as does Hardcase, and when you give it, both the clones start slowly.  

Your head rolls back to rest on Hardcase's shoulder, and the tattooed clone places a kiss on your temple before turning his focus to bucking up into your ass. Jesse's speed is slightly faster, considering he's in an easier position, and fucking a looser hole. Either way, you're full to the brim, moaning and groaning for them as Hardcase continues flicking his fingers over your clit.

"Kriff, doesn't she look good?" you overhear Kix comment.

Dogma follows up with, "if only you could see yourself, Commander."

Commander, Kriff. That status somehow slipped your mind - you're their Commander, their superior, and your men are currently watching you be fucked, whilst queueing up to take their turn with you. Let's hope your Jedi training has paid off, as you're going to need an extra stern poker-face the next time you're in their presence, or worse, in the presence of your Master.

Jesse, from the sounds that he's making, doesn't seem like he's going to last long. In his defense, you have been pumping his cock this entire time, despite your handiwork being somewhat sloppy. Hardcase's hand on your clit brushes over the perfect spot, causing you to clench in response, and that is more than enough to bring Jesse to orgasm.

"Where?" he manages to blurt out.

"Inside," you order, and every single clone in the room groans at your reply.

Jesse is about to ask if you're certain, but his body gives up before he can speak. Jesse slides his cock as deep as he can, and fills you up, panting and groaning as he releases. He's a debauched, a sweaty mess, possibly still drunk from earlier. Once he's somewhat stable, he slips his cock from you, slowly shuffling off the bed and collapsing on a nearby bunk.

Hardcase kisses your neck, as if to remind you that he's still there, or warning you, since he moves his hands to hold beneath your knees, pulling your knees up against your shoulders, and begins fucking up into your ass.

Your legs are spread, displayed for the other clones to watch as Hardcase ensures that you won't be able to walk for weeks. He's a grunting, sputtering mess beneath you, groaning into the curve of your neck as he chases his release.

A few more thrusts and Hardcase is finishing in your ass, holding your body tight against his as he leaves his mark. You're almost certain you heard a few whimpers from him, meaning his orgasm must have been intense. Eventually, a sweaty Hardcase begins slipping himself from you, being gentle as he rolls you off his chest.

Hardcase has barely removed himself off the bunk before another clone calls out "I'm next," and you look in the direction of the voice to see Dogma slipping his clothes off.

"Dogma? You?" Tup questions.

"Yeah, me!" he states, pointing a finger to himself.

"I didn't think you would," Tup shrugs, and in Tup's defence, you agree with him.

"I thought you'd be the type to tell on us," an exhausted Jesse comments, still laying back on a nearby bunk, spread out and panting heavily.

"Even if he did, I don't think anybody would believe him," Fives adds with a laugh.

"Stop being so mean to him, Troopers. Dogma is just as welcome as everybody else," you defend, and the clone thanks you with a smile.

"As welcome as everybody else?" Fives repeats your word. "Kriff, Commander, I didn't realize you were inviting the entire Legion!" he jokes, and you roll your eyes at Fives's comment, twisting your words cheekily.

You ignore Fives's playful remark, turning your attention to Dogma instead, who's just about finished removing his shirt. "How do you want me, handsome?" you question.

Dogma's eyes light up at your little nickname, and he orders you to "get on your front, hands and knees, and face the boys."

Orders are orders, and you follow them without question. Dogma shuffles in behind you, kneading your ass for a few moments before wrapping his hand around his cock. You're already slick enough, with your own release smeared around your thighs, and a release in both holes, so Dogma doesn't bother using his own spit to slick up his cock. Instead, he glides his cock over your pussy, ensuring the tip of his cock flicks over your clit with every thrust, and once he's satisfied, he begins pushing into your ass.

You let out an "oh," as Dogma slides in, letting out a grunt as he bottoms out. With his hands on your hips, and the signal from you to continue, Dogma begins fucking your ass, gawking over the sight of his cock disappearing and reappearing from you. "That's it," he mutters under his breath. "Kriff, you look so good for me."

"For us," Kix intervenes, and Dogma shoots him a grumpy glare.

Dogma is clearly trying to prove his vods wrong, showing them that he wants this, that he won't rat everybody out for breaking so many rules. His thrusts are heavy, the sound of your ass slapping against his pelvis fills up the room, pushing moans from your lips with every thrust. You can feel Hardcase's release slowly being pushed from your ass, settling around your rim, soon to be replaced with Dogmas.

You overhear someone shuffling about, and Kix soon appears in your line of sight. "I'm back," he says with a smile. "Care to continue where we left off?" Kix questions, and lets out a pleasant sigh when you nod in agreement.

This time, you have your hand free, and you wrap it around Kix's cock as the tip slips into your mouth. Dogma's not letting up his thrusts, pushing your head forwards with every roll of his hips, causing you to lightly gag on Kix's length. Kix seems to enjoy it, as do the viewers, and the sensation is alright for you; so, you continue, eventually letting Kix begin thrusting and fucking your mouth, his pace matching Dogmas.

Kix notices the lack of attention on your pussy, and leans forward, hand reaching out to dip beneath your body and help get you off, but Dogma swats his hand away. At first, you're insulted, as is Kix, until Dogma speaks up and explains his actions. "Let's see how long she can last without being touched," he cheekily states, and Kix flashes him a similar smile before looking down at you.

"Sorry, Commander. Orders are orders," Kix shrugs, and returns to fucking your mouth.

You let out a whine, as does Tup, who seems sympathetic at the lack of attention in your key areas. Fives, on the other hand, is hollering, "she won't last long. She'll be begging for it soon!"

Ugh, he's right. Despite already having an orgasm, you're chasing another, eager for that certain-something to help get you off. The more Dogma and Kix fuck you, the more your cunt burns, and when you try to remove your hand from Kix's cock, he wraps his hand around your wrist to prevent you from touching yourself, clicking his tongue with a disapproving "ah-ah!"

"Soon, sweetheart," Dogma says from behind you, and judging from the way his cock is twitching in your ass, you assume he's close.

Dogma picks up his pace, ruining your own pace on Kix's cock - or improving it, as Kix groans when you gag, spit pooling from the corners of your mouth. "So wet," Kix comments under his breath, and returns to fucking your mouth again, grunting and moaning with every thrust.

"Oh, Maker!" Dogma sighs as he pushes his cock as deep as it'll go. With his hands tightly around your hips, he earns his release, filling your ass with hot, sticky cum. Your moan is muffled from Kix's cock, who has slowed his thrusts, almost to a halt. Kix waits for Dogma to finish, and once he's slipped out, he manhandles you into a new position.

Kix rolls you onto your back, legs against the edge of the bed. He's clearly in a rush, his orgasm sitting on the edge, and he hurries to slide his cock into your pussy, one leg up on the bed, the other remaining on the floor.

Kix only thrusts a few times before bottoming out and cumming inside, his load mixing with Jesse's, who has finally perked up after passing out on another bunk. "Good girl," Kix mutters as the pad of his thumb presses to your clit, grinding in circles a few times. He's milking his release, slowly fucking you in a hazy post-orgasm state, biting his lip whenever you clench around his overstimulated cock.

When Kix can't take any more, he pulls out, and your clit is left unattended. You can feel his and Jesse's load leaking from you, and your eyes lock onto Tup, who was just eyeing up your cunt, his cheeks turning red at the sight of your sticky, cum soaked pussy.

"We're up, Tup!" Fives says with a laugh, patting his vod on the shoulder, snapping him out of his fixated state. Fives has the audacity to follow up his rhyme with finger guns, causing you to roll your eyes at the cheek of this man.

Tup lets out a "huh?" before realising that it's his turn to play with you. The pair are quick to strip off; Fives leaves his clothes strung over the floor, whilst Tup leaves his on his bunk. Just like the rest of your squad, they're hung, and your holes are already beginning to feel sore at the sight of them.

Fives motions for you to stand, and with extremely wobbly legs, you manage to get up, clinging onto Fives as you do so. "Tup, c'mere and help me out," Fives playfully orders, before turning his focus to you.

He bends down slightly, arms stretched out, and asks for you to wrap your legs around his waist. "Catch her if she falls, Tup," Fives comment, and you hear a soft "oh, kriff," from behind you.

Well, you don't fall. Your legs are wrapped around Fives's waist, hands around his neck, awaiting the next move. Five pauses, staring out into thin air, before realizing his mistake.

"Wait, I want to fuck your ass... Tup, you pick her up," Fives comments, and gently places you back down on the floor, only to spin you around so you're facing Tup instead.

"Idiot," Jesse mutters under his breath, and Fives glares at him over your shoulder.

Tup wraps his arms around your waist, and on his nod, you jump up into his lap. He moves your legs to wrap around his waist, ankles crossing over, and your hands trail up to settle on his shoulders, fingertips playing with his loose strands of hair. Tup, for some reason, is trembling, and you're uncertain if it's from your weight, or his nerves. A soothing kiss on his nose reveals that it's his nerves, as he begins to relax, and your weight is then shared between the two clones as Fives approaches you from behind.

Fives focuses on slipping his cock into your ass, before taking your weight off Tup, allowing him to slide up into your pussy. The pair bottom out, pulling you down onto their lengths, and find an even way to hold your weight, making it easier on everybody.

At first, the pair are an uneven, a sloppy mess, struggling to find the right rhythm. Despite their lack of sync, you're still enjoying yourself, but the second they finally sync up, it's game over. With your hands desperately clinging onto Tup's shoulders, you roll your head back against Fives's shoulder, moaning and groaning as the fuck you.

Tup lets out a sigh as he comments "you're so good for us," his hands kneading at your thighs around his waist.

"Isn't she just?" Fives smirks, and his hands on your ass give you a squeeze. "Poor Tup here looks like he's going to cum already," Fives bites at his vod, and Tup sends him a disappointed glare.

"Play nice, you two," you softly order, not wanting to be stuck in the middle of their play fight.

They let out a "yes, Commander," as their thrusts continue, the sound of synced up skin against skin echoing around the dorm room.

However, the sound of the door opening makes everybody jump out of their skin, and you all turn with wide eyes to see none other than Captain Rex entering the room. Fives and Tup come to a halt, Jesse sits up on his bunk, and everybody awaits Rex's move.

Rex, with a stern expression, reaches a hand out to press the lock button on the dorms' door. "You forgot to lock it," he states, then tuts and shakes his head, scolding his men for their sloppiness.

Rex is still in uniform, his helmet tucked under his arm. The sound of heavy footsteps slowly approaches you, Tup, and Fives, and all three of you watch as Rex comes to a halt in front of you. You gulp, despite being a higher ranking than Rex, and despite knowing that he is also in on this.

The expression Rex gives you sends a shiver down your spine; he raises a single brow, slowly eyeing all of you up and down, before his lips finally trail into a smirk. A gloved hand reaches out and finds its way between your legs, instantly settling over your clit. Rex begins to slowly rub your clit, the fabric of his gloves giving you that something extra, and he speaks up in his usual, bold, military tone.

"You've got to play with her as you're fucking her, boys," Rex states, smirking as he notices everybody's expressions drop, letting out sighs of relief. "How is she meant to cum if you're not focusing on the right areas?" Rex questions, and gestures for his men to pick up their pace again.

Fives and Tup begin bucking up into you again, still slightly nervous, but lust soon takes over and evens them out. Rex turns his full attention to you, and the deepness of his voice makes your pussy clench. "Have these men served you well?" he questions.

"They have," you mutter, nodding as you speak, eager to express your fondness.

"That's good to hear, Commander," the Captain smirks. His eyes stay glued to yours, and you can't bare to look away. His fingers are working wonders on your clit, and the sensation of Fives and Tup tending to you is swiftly becoming too much. Your breaths become quick and short, and your eyes struggle to stay open. Rex takes not and announces, "she's close, boys."

"Go on, show off for Rex," Fives says against your ear, and Tup nods along in agreement. A few more thrusts and you're clenching around their cocks, both men grunting and moaning as you up their sensation. Rex doesn't stop playing with your clit, at first, until your thighs begin to twitch from overstimulation; only then does he pull away, taking a step back and settling his hands on his hips after placing his helmet down on a nearby bunk.

Tup lets out a whine, and you can feel his cock twitching inside you. "Good boy, Tup," you direct your praise to him, and that alone is enough to make him cum. Tup buries his head into the curve of your neck, groaning against your skin as his load joins the others inside you, most of it oozing out past his cock and dripping to the floor.

"Kriff, guess it's my turn," Fives comments with a light laugh. He buries his head into your other shoulder, kissing and nipping at your skin as he continues fucking your ass. It doesn't take long for Fives to also cum, burying his length up to the base, and groaning when you twitch from overstimulation. "So karking good," Fives mutters, and repeats his compliment as he lifts his head off your shoulder, before kissing your cheek.

Slowly and steadily, the pair lower you, avoiding the slippy patches of cum on the floor that has dripped from both your holes. You're debauched, exhausted in every aspect, and undeniably cock-dumb as Rex approaches and asks "got room for your Captain?"

"Always," you steadily sigh. Rex chuckles at your eagerness, then gestures for you to get comfortable on a bunk.

You pick Jesse's bunk, seeing as it's already a mess, plus it's in the centre of everybody's line of sight. Knowing Rex, he'll want to make a show of this, turning it into some training exercise as a way of covering up what is really going on here.

You sit back on the bed, falling back onto your elbows, and watch as Rex approaches. He unfastens his codpiece, discarding it onto a nearby bunk, and pulls his semi-hard cock out from beneath his blacks. The Captain is clean-shaven, thick and girthy, another cock to add onto your 'reasons why I can't walk this week' list.

Rex slips his gloves off before pumping himself with one hand, the other reaching down to trail over your overly sensitive cunt. Gentle fingertips slide over your wet folds, and Rex spreads you apart, revealing the sticky mess leaking from your entrance. "I see they've been keeping you full," Rex comments as his fingers trail up to glide over your clit, pressing firmly and flicking over the bud.

"Very full," you nod along. Your eyes flick to Rex's cock, which is now hard, precum leaking like crazy. Rex notices the way you're looking at his length, and he stops pumping his shaft, holding at the base instead, as if to present it.

"Is this what you want?" he teasingly questions, causing you to shudder.

"Yes, Captain," you nod, and Rex lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Place the order, Commander," Rex orders in his own way.

You lick your lips, followed by clearing your throat, and keep your eyes locked onto your Captains as you state "your orders are to fuck me, Captain."

"Yes, Ma'am."

You overhear a handful of men groan at your tone of voice, no doubt working themselves up again. "I'll show you boys how it's done," Rex says with a smug laugh as he moves both of his hands to your knees, and slowly pushes them up until they're almost pressing your shoulders, folding your body in half. He keeps one hand on your knee, the other holding the base of his cock as he begins slipping into you.

It isn't until you feel cold plastoid pressing against your body that you realize he's still in uniform.

Rex is fucking you with his armour on? Oh.

The sound that Rex lets out as he bottoms out is one that will forever play on repeat in the back of your mind. He holds himself there, scrunching his eyes shut as he regains focus, enticed by how wet and warm you feel. Once Rex has evened out, he begins thrusting into you, and oh Kriff, this man does not hold back.

With your body folded in half, Rex is able to drive his cock even deeper, his tip brushing over your g-spot with every thrust. Your legs find their way around his upper back, ankles locking over each other, and to encourage Rex, you press your heel against his back, urging him to give you all he's got. Rex's eyes meet yours, a single brow raised, and he makes a brief comment about how needy you are.

You're already a babbling mess, and Rex has only just begun! No doubt, you'll pass out the second he's finished with you, but your men are here to pick up the pieces, labelling you as a war hero for helping them during such desperate times.

"How're you doing, sweetheart?" Rex questions, affectionate eyes locking onto your half-lidded ones.

"G-good," is all you can reply, and Rex chuckles at your cock-dumb mentality.

When words fail, actions speak, and Rex dips his head down to introduce his lips to yours. Despite his heavy thrusts, the kiss is steady, adding to your overstimulation. You've always been fond of your Captain, but you could never quite put your finger on why; now you've got it - it's because he fucks so kriffing good!

As the kiss breaks, you reach around Rex's neck, hands clasping onto his back, attempting to rake your nails into his slippery armour. Rex lets out a soft laugh before kissing along your neck, leaving his mark below where your Jedi robes sit - what a smart man.

"Rex, I'm-" you blurt out.

"I know, sweetheart," Rex replies in a soothing voice, only for his tone to turn stern as he questions "you're going to cum for me, aren't you, Commander?"

Your reply can't seem to leave your lips, so you nod in response. Rex chuckles at your desperation, and to your surprise, he stops what he's doing. His thrusts come to a sharp halt, and he quickly slips his cock from you, leaving you with your mouth hanging open.

Just as you're about to question what he's doing, as are the other clones, he sits on the end of the bed beside you and slips two fingers into your cunt, instantly curling them and fucking you where he left off.

Rex clearly knows something you don't, but you allow him to take the ropes, especially as your orgasm is on the edge. There's a strange sensation in your gut, something you haven't quiet felt before, and judging from the way it's growing with Rex's movements, you assume you'll soon find out.

"Watch and learn, boys," Rex states, but keeps his eyes focused, locked onto yours.

You're putty in his grasp, mewling on the bed, not bothering to hold back on your moans. You're about to cum, any second now, but that foreign sensation takes over instead. Suddenly, everything becomes too much, especially Rex's fingers hitting that soft spot inside you over and over. You yelp as something takes over your body, an orgasm of some kind; on shaky elbows, you rush to prop yourself up, gazing down to watch in amazement as you squirt all over your Captain's arm, the liquid coating his plastoid armour.

"Good girl," Rex coos through gritted teeth, repeating the praise, but doesn't let up just yet. Kriff, you're screaming, even with your hand over your mouth. You fall back onto the bed, clawing at the sheets as this orgasm lasts longer than usual.

Even after you squirt, Rex continues fucking you with his fingers, as if to ensure that you're empty. He eventually calms down, and only then does your volume begin to drop, revealing the vast amount of praise from your troopers.

"That was beautiful, Commander!" Fives calls out.

"Kriff, she's shaking," you overhear Tup comment.

Jesse whines "my karking bed is soaked..." under his breath, which makes you smile to yourself. He was the one to suggest his bed, so he can lie in his wet grave!

A gentle stroke of your hair makes you open your eyes, only to meet Kix, who's gazing down at you. "Are you alright?" he questions.

"Uh-huh," you lazily nod, and he smiles at your exhaustion. Kix slowly props you up, letting you fall back against him. Your eyes trail to Rex, who looks almost as tired as you do. He's wiping something off his thigh, and if your calculations are correct, his thigh was out of your splash zone.

"Did you cum?" you ask Rex, who looks up at you with a tired smile. He nods in confirmation.

"Untouched," Rex states, and you take pride in making him cum in such a way.

You have a sudden burst of energy, and use it to lean forwards and thank your Captain with a kiss. Rex smiles against your lips before playfully nipping at your bottom lip, earning a sarcastic comment of "get a room!" from Jesse.

"I think we should get you into the refresher instead," Rex comments as he breaks the kiss.

"As good as that sounds, I can't walk," you sigh, and attempt to gesture to your jelly-like body, only for your arms to flap about and fall flat at your sides.

Rex laughs at your exhaustion, then informs you that he'll run you a bath instead. You look at him with a surprised expression, to which he states "I know, I wasn't expecting the GAR to treat us to baths, either."

Rex leaves you in the company of Kix, who begins checking over your body whilst asking you over and over if you're alright.

------

A nice, hot bath doesn't take long for Rex to run. Hardcase, now in his blacks, with caution, picks you up and carries you to the dorms' refresher. He's extra gentle as he places your feet on the tile floor, keeping his arm around your waist to steady yourself as you slowly enter the bath.

Hardcase steals a kiss from you, muttering "thanks for tonight, Commander," against your lips before leaving you to it.

Kix enters the second Hardcase exits, bringing you a glass of water and a certain prevention pill. "Let me know if you need anything," he informs you before kissing your forehead and leaving you to relax.

Only for Fives to come barrelling in, instantly blabbering on about how good you were. "I always assumed you'd be quite the slut, but... well, I wasn't expecting that," Fives playfully jabs, and insists that "we should all do it again some time!"

Dogma peers his head around the door and barks at Fives to leave you alone, but the second he shoos Fives out, he replaces the emptiness with himself instead. "Eh, Fives is right," Dogma comments, referring to Fives statement. "But don't tell him I said that," he grumbles as he steals a kiss from you.

You stretch back in the bath, enjoying the GAR assigned bubbles, and just when you think you're alone, Tup appears. "I don't want to smother you..." he sheepishly comments, "but I wanted to thank you for tonight." You can't help but laugh at Tup's kind demeanour, and the smile remains on your lips as Tup offers you a massage.

You accept, under the cheeky condition that Tup joins you in the bath. His cheeks turn pink at your suggestion, and continue turning pink the more he undresses. Tup even attempts to cover himself up as he settles in the bath with you, making you giggle once more.

Tup has your back resting against his chest, tenderly burying his fingertips into your damp skin, softening out those tight areas. You overhear commotion outside, and both of you laugh as it unfolds.

"No fair! Tup's in there having another round with her!" Fives protests, his voice thudding through the thickness of the refresher door.

"Leave her alone, Fives. She's a free woman, she can do what she wants!" Somebody defends, and you're almost certain it's Dogma.

"They're just cuddling, leave them alone," Rex intervenes, and you know it's Rex from his firmness and slight difference in tone.

Following the Captain's orders, you and Tup are left to it, cuddling and lazily washing each other. Once the water turns cold, you both make your exit, drying yourselves off and gawking when Tup lets down his hair, only to refasten it into another, fresh manbun.

A pair of blacks has been left for you on the side, and despite them being a little big, they still fit snugly. As you exit the refresher, the first thing you notice is that Jesse's bed has been completely stripped, bedding in the wash. The dorm is clean, and your clothes and bag have been folded and placed on Jesse's empty bed.

"I guess I'm staying the night," you comment, and gesture to ask who you're bundling up with.

Before anyone can get a word in, the Captain speaks up. "I missed out on most of the night, so I'd like to catch up with you."

You're unsure if 'catch up' means have a chat, or wake up to find Rex spoon-fucking you, but either way, you're down. With a nod of confirmation, you begin settling in for the night, curling up in Rex's bunk as he continues changing from his armour into a fresh pair of blacks to sleep in.

"Wait a minute," Jesse intervenes. "Where am I sleeping?" he questions, setting his hands on his hips with frustration.

"You can go give Tup a cuddle, he loves them, apparently," Fives maliciously comments, sending playful, yet bold daggers at his vod.

"Ah, leave Tup alone," Dogma defends him.

Before Fives can take another jab, Hardcase barks up with "we can spoon!" And Jesse doesn't look too pleased at his suggestion.

"You can join us, Jesse," Rex disgruntledly states.

"You do know these beds are singles, right?" Jesse states as he gestures to the small, single beds, barely big enough for one clone, let alone two, and you.

"Yes, but from what I've seen, the Commander likes it when she has a clone pressed up on either side of her," Rex teases, side-eyeing you as he comments.

An array of laugher fills the air, and Jesse nods in agreement. You remain quiet, as there's no point denying something that is blatantly true!

The lights are soon turned out, and the boys take it in turns to say goodnight to each other. In the dark, you feel Rex join you, manhandling you into position. Your head finds Rex's chest, an arm sprawled out underneath your neck, and your arm wraps around Rex's waist. Jesse then joins, and since your back is free, he decides to spoon you, trapping you perfectly in your 501st sandwich. Before falling asleep, you make a minor comment to Rex, as if to apologize for him not being there tonight. "We'll make sure you come with us next time," you quietly comment, referring to 79's, the venue that lead you here.

Jesse chuckles before mentioning how wild the night went. "You should have seen her, Captain. She's the sluttiest woman in the galaxy, grinding on Hardcase whilst making out with me," Jesse explains, and you lightly elbow him in the ribs for leaking so much information. A few men can be heard giggling in their bunks, if only you could elbow them too.

"Oh really?" Rex responds, his pitch heightening him as he asks. "Well, I'll definitely be there next time, and I'll ensure that I make up for my lack of presence," Rex promises, and knowing Rex, this is a promise he'll keep.

"I can't wait," you reply, softly yawning against Rex's chest.

"Neither can I," Fives comments from across the dorm, earning a giggle from Hardcase.

"Alright, men. That's enough. Go to sleep," Rex orders.

"Yeah, Captain's orders," you playfully comment, earning yet another sea of giggles.

Within time, the bunch calm down, and the air is soon graced with the soothing sounds of snoring clones. It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep, as your exhausted body is begging for some rest. You doze off, sandwiched snugly between an ARC Trooper and the Captain of the 501st.

What a dream!!!!

[midlife-crisisperson]

What if Hiccup died?

This is my first post- i know it may not be the best , but enjoy

Word count: 1109

He watched as the limp body of his best friend plumped fast towards the sea. He had to rescue him, but he knew he couldn’t. Hearing Grimmel’s shouts as he took off the light fury’s metal head piece, shaking her head lightly, her pupils slowly took almond shape as she became aware of her situation narrowing once more; her eyes settled on her mate’s body. He had made a decision, as he saw the panic in her eyes, he trusted her even if she didn’t, looking her,

“Save him”

He had let go of her neck, she looked at him in shock, her head turned back to her mate, flying at him as fast as she could, reaching him in time. And crashing on the cliff, pieces of the Earth disturbed due to the impact, his eyes soften,a small smile was plastered on his face, at the slight of his best friend safety. The screams of Grimmel brought him back to reality, both of them fighting in mid air, Grimmel clawed at his suit, ripping off parts of his chest plate along with his wings, letting it falling into the sea below, Hiccup in turned push him off, making him lose his grasp of the dragon suit. Only being able to grab onto Hiccup’s prosthetic leg, trying to make his way back up to Hiccup.

Hiccup could see the water coming closer and closer, he knew what that meant, and this time no one would save him, and he accepted it. Looking one last time up at the cliff, he saw Astrid getting off Stormfly, tears collected up at the corners of his eyes. The woman he loved with all of his heart was up there, and yet he was down here. Memories flooded in his head, the first time they had met, the pity that was evident in her eyes that had slowly turned into love for him. To the time when he had given her his betrothal necklace back to her, and the declaration of love that he had for her along the kiss that in suited afterwards. To the playful time Astrid had poke, at the spring that would release his fin, after the defeat of Drago Bludvist. He remembered it all, all the memories that they had made together, his tears flowed his face only to be picked up the wind and be whisked away. Closing his eyes, with a sad smile plastered on his face. He accepted his fate,

Feeling the familiar gush of water wrapping around him, as his lungs had began to hurt for air, yet he felt so tired, too tried to do anything else but open his eyes slightly, only to see the world around in a blur, and hearing the faintest call,

“HICCUP!”

The voice sounded so familiar and yet so foreign to him,before being surrounded by comforting black.

𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻

Stormfly had landing them next to Cloudjumper, getting off and giving her dragon a small pat, she turned her head to the slight infront of her, toothles was laying down with one of Grimmel’s needles laying a few feet away. His mate, the light fury, standing guard over him, still wary of the humans, taking a look around expecting to see the messy auburn hair boy, make his way to the nightfury, except she didn’t. Panic had ensue her, a million thoughts ran through her head as she ran over to see if maybe toothless was covering him up with his wings, keeping him safe from whatever they had fought.

“TOOTHLESS! TOOTHLESS!” She shouted,

The dragon stirred lightly at the call of his name, and yet his wings didn’t hide Hiccup, panic arose in her once more,

“Toothless, Toothless , Where’s Hiccup?” She asked, panic evident in her voice.

That question alerted Toothless, fully aware of where he was, he slowly looked around and yet he couldn’t spot his best friend.Rising to his feet, he looked at Astrid whose eyes widened in fear, ‘I don’t know’.

He looked at his mate for answers, letting out a soft warble, ‘ Where’s Hiccup? ‘

Her eyes widened with guilt, looking down unable to look at him in the eye, before walking over to the cliff side, both of them followed her. Seeing a falling Hiccup, rapidly making his way down into the sea, Toothless didn’t hesitate for a sec, simply jumping off the cliff side, Astrid had done the same, calling out for Stormfly with a whistle, while falling.

Astrid had grabbed onto Toothless, trying to catch him time, her eyes blurred with tears, as she saw him crash into the water, in an last attempt, she pushed off Toothless, reaching her hand out,

“HICCUP!”

She had to get him out, she had to, she couldn’t lose him,Stormfly had grabbed her feet, stoping her mere feet above the water. Feeling familiar sting in her eyes, she closed them, closing her hand tightly, hearing the water splash for a second time, gave her hope,

“Please, find him Toothless” she pleaded softly,

Mounting onto her dragon once more, she could see, a large black spot emerging from the sea, Toothless had emerged pull out a limp Hiccup.

They landed on the beach nearby, quickly dismounting her dragon, and the reality of it all finally hit her, the man she loved with all her heart was laying limp just mere feet away, and her body wouldn’t, didn’t want move, no matter how hard she tried to tell her legs to move they wouldn’t, Toothless was trying to wake him up with his snout, just the like the first time Hiccup had fallen unconscious after the fight with the Red death. Licking him with slobber, knowing how it annoyed Hiccup, but he would always allow it, and yet he didn’t stirred.

Her legs seemed to have finally listen her, making her way to Hiccup’s body, kneeling down, pulling his limp body onto her lap, and using one of her hand to cup his face, she felt her throat close up, as a single tear rolled down her face,

“Oh Hiccup, please” she pleaded,droplets of tears landing on Hiccup’s face, her soft weeps unable to the wake the man.

Cupping the back of his head with her hands and bringing their foreheads together,

“Please, open you’re eyes Hiccup”

Closing her eyes, hoping, praying to the gods that by some miracle he’d opened his eyes, and she’d be able to see his dark forest green eyes once more; but he didn’t.