#like a bolt of lighting in a zig-zag

[cheriate]

He came home!!! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

wishing good luck for anyone else who pulls!

[adobe-outdesign]

Randomly generated Pokemon review request: Pincurchin

(I don't have any Pokemon review requests in the inbox right now, so I'll be randomly generating some. Otherwise, feel free to send them if you have them.)

Pincurchin sure does Exist. I'm surprised it took us this long to get a sea urchin Pokemon, but I guess part of that is that they all have such a simple body shape (basically a ball covered in spikes) that there's not a whole lot you can do with them.

Unfortunately, I think Pincurchin reflects this. It's an electric-type Pokemon, and has yellow accents to reflect this, including a stylized yellow mouth and eyes. The slightly lighter tips of its spines can also light up in yellow, though it's one of those things where I wish that was the default in the official art instead of just something that pops up in animation, as it's needed for proper color distribution.

The design of the face is unique and it's got a nice shape especially with the little pointed legs, but... that's kind of it. There's nothing more to it than "electric-type pincushion". And there's nothing wrong with just animal + type for a Pokemon (Pikachu is basically just an electric-type squirrel), but you have to be able to do something creative with the design. For example, Kilowattrel is just an electric-type frigatebird, but it's covered in lightning-like markings and can light up its throat sac like a lightbulb. But Pincurchin just doesn't have anything to it conceptually, with typing conveyed almost entirely through color. Combine that with it not evolving, and there's not a whole lot to remember it by.

The easiest way to fix this would obviously be to add an evolution that plays around with the design more. I could easily see an evo that has one giant spike in the middle surrounded by smaller spikes, with the big one resembling a transmission tower or something (kind of like g-max Toxtricity has). Even just making the spikes have a lightning-bolt esq zig-zag shape would help the design. Just give it something.

Overall, a fine little Pokemon, but one that's fairly underwhelming in the grand scheme of things.

[mewkwota]

Do you have any tips on how to draw Omega-xis' spikeyness?

Oh gosh, I wanna assume you are talking about the light of his body? I guess I see the material being like an explosion, where it starts really big and wide then starts to narrow down. On that note, I see the material as sporadic so I think it's okay to make it look as non-uniform, so some spikes can be real long and some not.

His torso looks like the zig-zag of a lightning bolt to me, so I try to go for a shape like that and but it "explosion" again.

For his "mane", which I think of it like X-Zero's ponytail where it has this big hump at the start (but it starts at the top of his head and connects back to his neck?) then follows the same idea from before.

So maybe think about it as if Omega-Xis had regular human proportions but then make then "explosion", I'm sorry if that doesn't make a lot of sense as I'm very bad at explaining things. L(///L )

I also made a visual of what I mean if it may be more helpful:

If you were otherwise talking about his head, I find that I start with his "ears" then draw the "spikes" over his eyes to figure out the perspective I want to go for. To me, he's like recalling how to draw a furry-anthro, dragon, and a box at the same time. ^^;

[disabled-sysboxes]

[TEXT ID: this alter is a SPD, dyspraxia, and tourette's symptom holder]

[IMG ID: a blue, rectangular box with three flags split into thirds, on the left is the tourette's flag - teal flag with a yellow lightning bolt coming from the top left and bottom right in the first third of the flag - in the middle, the dyspraxia flag - a flag with four diagonal sections that are yellow, green, blue, and purple, the lines separating them are zig-zag shaped - on the furthest right, the SPD flag - a flag with four stripes, a desaturated blue, a desaturated light blue, a desaturated light green, and a desaturated green, with two thin grey lines in the middle of the flag - to the left of the rectangle, and the text 'this alter is a SPD, dyspraxia, and tourette's symptom holder' to the right.]

–

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[browa123]

Redesigned an old Fakemon of mine from 2019, and I'm really proud of the new look. I remember making it because Rotom is the only ghost / electric type as of yet, and with it's possession mechanic, it's not even a ghost half the time, so, reintroducing the Boolt line!

Boolt (Boo + Bolt) -> Sparkter (Specter + Spark) -> Ectoplazma (Ectoplasm + Plasma + Z is a zig zag looks like a lightning bolt)

(I know nothing about stats, but I think overall it's best two stats would be special attack and speed and it's worst two would be defense and attack)

I'm especially proud of Ectoplazma. Boolt was designed first, but the final form being the "Shock and Horror" pokemon (that was too good to pass up) really fits it well. The original intent was to make it look like the trope when a cartoon character gets electrocuted and their skeleton shows through, hence the electric and ghost type. Making the pokemon itself look like it's being electrocuted, while simultaneously looking like it's screaming in your face to scare you turned out to be an amazing byproduct of the intent.

Of course, Boolt messing with nearby Rotom is always a fun nod, because technology being fuzzy around the supernatural is also a fun trope, and with most of the phones in the pokemon universe being powered by Rotom nowadays, having Boolt interfere with them is just fun in general.

The shinies lean into their ghostly side a bit more, with the dark blues, indigoes and hints of green along with a blue will-o-whisp like light in their cores.

[rjalker]

all of the public domain Legally Distinct™ keyswords in one post!

I originally drew these in 2015, and turned the absolutely terrible pictures into colored digital versions. These designs are public domain, meaning you can use them for literally anything and everything you want! Video games, books, movies, anything!

The files for them can all be downloaded here from the Internet Archive, along with the uncolored lineart if you want to make color variants! You can also edit the lineart and designs in any way you want! You don't need to keep them exactly like this.

Key to the Kingdom is the only "modern" one that I drew a few days ago. It has three variations since I couldn't decide which one I liked best, so I put it up to a poll for a drawing I'm gonna do. All of them are "canon" designs though :P

These are magical weapons that are intended to evolve as their wielder's character develops, branching out along different paths depending on the character's choices. The swords can speak and communicate with their wielder, who they usually choose themselves, though sometimes they're born directly from their weilder during Special Magical Circumstances™ (What circumstances? That's for you to decide for your story!)

And if you're looking at them and going ???? at Chipmunk's name, all I can tell you is that one literally came to me in a dream, and that was literally it's name in the dream, and who am I to argue when my dream's gonna give me such a cool looking sword design??

Enjoy!

[ID: Ninteen images, showing seventeen different fantasy swords against white backgrounds, with the name written next to each one. One of the designs has three variations.

The first is named Blazing Star. It has a hilt shaped like a skull, with the spaces for the handle forming the eyes. Most of it is light grey, but there are several blue crosses with four pointed stars on them that look like they’re made of sparkling gems along the length of the blade, which turns at a 90 degree angle at the top. Along the metal of the top part are darker angled squares of grey as though forming a grill.

The second is named Chipmunk. It has a cyan circular hilt with pairs of curves on either side like horns or thorns, and the color grows darker as it goes up the blade, going from cyan to teal, to royal blue, to blue-black at the top. The blade is narrower at the base and wider at the top, with stylized lines like clouds or closed fists on the edges, with the lines done in white as the colors of the blade get darker. Across the middle are two white zig-zags forming a bolt like lightning. The very top of the blade is split in two, with one section appearing like a stylized cloud or fist, and the other side having sharper indents and curves, like a bird or snake with its neck curled.

The third is named Crystal Moonlight, and is cyan and sky blue. The hilt is circular but covered in spikes and crystal shapes, with the shaft of the blade thin and made up of three parallel sections, which branch out and twist at the top into sections with three spikes like a fork, twisting around to cross eachother.

The fourth is named Duality Mended, and is made of two separate blades that fit into eachother, one blue with purple detail, the other purple with blue detail. The hilt is round, with a pattern of triangles and circles on each side. On the blue, the triangles point outward, while on the purple side, they point inward. The blue hilt has two triangle shaped cuts in the side, and the purple has matching spikes opposite these. The shaft of each weapon is decorated with circles and squares, with another triangle cut on the blue side, and a matching spike on the purple. At the top, they turn into a pointed curve like a spiky question mark, with two spikes locked together. The metal sections here have the centers cut out in different shapes. The points of each blade narrow together to form a larger point.

The fifth is named Fall to the Stars, and has a round hilt with a spike at the top left, like an upside down capital letter Q. The inside of the hilt around the handle is curved like a dripping liquid that's frozen in place. Most of this sword of grey-purple scattered with small white four-pointed stars, with darker grey along part of the right side, crossing the hilt. The blade curves like a question mark, with the top section park purple metal, with holes cut out of the center, showing a light grey metal or rock that forms most of the top, almost like a hammer. The stone has two sharp points on the front, and a back with smaller points separated by curves.

The sixth is named Fire Thorn, and has a color gradient from red at the top, to gold at the bottom. The “crest” of the blade is a red spiral that is shaped like a dragon’s head with the open mouth on the left, and the lower jaw curling back into a tongue of flame.

The top section has serrated edges with blunted teeth, separated by small pairs of triangles that form hour glass shapes. The rest of the main section curves down below this, narrowing suddenly into a gold handle, then flaring out again into a curved spike like bone.

The seven is named Key to the Kingdom, and this one has three variations. It is shaped like a key, with a light grey blade with “teeth” at the top shaped like half of a hexagon, with notches in the sides. The hilt is made up of three loops, with darker grey above them connecting them to the blade. Version 1 has a solid blade and teeth. Version 2 has a diamond shaped hole in the center of the tooth section. Version 3 has the same cut out in the teeth, along with multiple diamond shapes cut out of the blade.

The eighth is named Path to the Sun, The eighth is named Path to the Sun, and is pale green, with the handle and one decorative wheel desaturated yellow, like dried grass. The handle has two spikes at the end, and appears as though it is wrapped in leather. Above the handle, the "blade" of the weapon splits into two, twisting backwards where they meet the decorative wheel or gear, which is yellow on the outside with different sections, with a green and yellow rings in the center. After this, the two split beams rejoin in the shape of a curved axe head with sharp points at the top and bottom, with one of the tines that form it twisting back behind it.

The ninth is named Queen of Swans, and is half black metal, and half white feathers, with half of the hilt made up of curves feathers, the other metal, and the handle itself the two twisted together. The black metal of the blade curves before twisting back into a sharp point, with the feathers on the other side mirroring it. Where the two connect, they fade between a short gradient of dark grey to light grey. Small white circles cut holes in the metal on the blade and hilt.

The tenth is named Ranging War, and is monochrome grey, with a dark grey blade that forms a blunt end at the top, with three triangles around a circle for the radiation symbol cut through the top, then a line of small cut out circles continuing down the center. The blade is in three sections, with a gap between the center and the outer edges, held in place only by their connection at the top. The two outer edges flare out and up suddenly before the hilt, forming a guard. The hilt is lighter grey, and flares out at the base, where it is striped with darker grey to form a pommel.

The eleventh is named Silver Light, and has a simple shape, with the inside covered in geometric shapes making it look like it's made of crystal. The hilt is a hexagon with a spoke on the lower left like a capital letter Q, with the spoke pink, the outer edges grey, and the inside dark orange. The blade is thin light grey, and the top section forming the "teeth" is darker grey with sharp pink edges forming two larger triangles on the right, and a smaller on on the lower left.

The twelfth is named The Final Light, and is black, red, white, and pale yellow. The top section is shaped like a capital letter A turned on its side so that it resembles the open mouth of a dragon, with four yellow eyes around the cut out center, which is shaped like a bolt of lightning. The core of the blade is black, which is visible through the bolt of lightning, part of the mouth and jaw, and protrudes from the back of the "head" as two short curved-back horns. The four eyes have white stripes around them, and behind them is yellow like a mane. The rest of the head is striped red and darker red, in straight lines and chevrons. The central part of the blade is twisted together black and red, with the red covered in larger yellow circles with black centers like large scales, and a white zig-zag connecting them. The hilt is shaped like the greek letter omega, mostly a circle, with the ends twisting outward rather than connecting. This section is solid black.

The thirteenth is named Ties that bind, and is shaped like a skeleton key that is made of light brown wood, with thin teeth in a complicated shape, with red ribbons tied around many of them, and on the hilt, with a scarf or bandana tied around the middle of the shaft. The hilt is a stylized rectangle with extra curves at the top and bottom, and a red diamond above it.

The fourteenth is named Time Splicer, and is mostly dark green, with the top section shaped like fingers with the thumb folded, holding a purple spike. The main section of the shaft curves in and out like repeating hourglasses, with dark orange circles in two of the sections, with ridges drawn on the green sections like tree bark. The hilt is a simple curved, solid purple hexagon, with a dark orange pentagon gem at the bottom as a pommel.

The fifteenth is named Token of Solitude, and it is the shortest of all of the weapons. It has a simple, silver blade that crooked back to form a skeleton key shape with three tines, and a pink hilt like half of a heart shape, with the handle wrapped in darker orange-pink.

The sixteenth is named Wolfsbane, and the head and blade are the same blue-grey with scattered white five-pointed stars. The blade twists in on itself, before forming a curved, random head like a battleaxe. The hilt is grey metal, with the handle wrapped in the darker grey. There is an acid green spike twisting and curving downward on the bottom off of one side to point downward. The seventeenth is named From the Shadows, and is purple, black, and grey, with each color a different blade tied together with thin wire in three sections. Each is jagged, in an uneven, zig-zagging shape, with the handle alternating grey and black, with a purple pommel. End ID.]

[zonecode]

@emptyzone Woe.

     She's here and gone like a flash of greased lightning.

     Ah, there was nothing like a little bit of wanton destruction to get an overactive mind off of troubling thoughts spiraling out of control. As the crash of thunder rolled through the city, crashes of cars being flipped onto their heads would blare with horns of pointless alarms. Trust and believe, it was hard to miss the green blaze of devastation wrecking everything that did or did not cross its line of fire.

     Hanging streetlights were forced to blare at their brightest as a jumping arc of electricity made contact and infected its newest target. Glass-shattering, shock-inducing. Both by the most literal of terms, and by the scattering crowd jumping out of the lime-green locomotive's way to not get bowled over. GANGWAY! COMIN' THROUGH! Pfft, as if a warning was given to any of these nobodies.

     Zap a tree and get a good fire started, or just twirl around in a circle and create a vortex of air to collect the stray citizen not fast enough to run inside and hide. Watch'em scream and suffer as their worlds are taken for a whirl, only to cut the spin cycle short and let momentum to the rest of the work. This way and that, the people popped like buttered kernels! Where they landed? Nobody cared~!

     No, it's only as some secondary rumble demanded that a conscious busy cackling to itself crystallize on the world around her. Uh... were the aftershocks of her city-wide tour already starting to drum up? She was almost certain that one wasn't her. A mess of the place had already been made, but that earthen grumble seemed... greater. Something far larger, something like...

     Something like an entire building falling toward her person, a shadow drenching the tenrec in overhanging shade.

     ...Okay! Guess it was time to juice it! Yellow streaks are told to double-time it, she wasn't getting hit with another building if she could help it. She's durable, (DURABLE ain't the word, she's damn near INVINCIBLE) but it still hurts like hell to have one of those fall on you. Bricks and stones are dodged like raindrops from an overhead storm, a surge of lightning tears by the side to zig-zag a dexterous sprint up an abandoned building its fallen brother was seconds away from collapsing into.

     Ride that momentum until it sputtered and died, then punch it in the side and tell it to keep going. Faster, FASTER. It's a vertical climb as the road beneath the tenrec's fleeting feet is reduced to dust and destroyed concrete behind her. Higher, straight to the top! Windows are one-use stepping stones that shatter slower than the treads on her shoes can leave them, a cacophonous chorus of urban debris singing out in pain as the burst of light reaches its zenith.

     She jumps, her side of the building road running out of track, the complex's roof reached. Lightning strikes upward, only for its bolt to fling in an upside-down pendulum's swing. She arcs, it's like the bridge of a rainbow bounding from one building to another. One final crash beneath as an ivory surge flies above the ocean of demolition.

     She lands. A finger pointed at the only person crazy enough to be standing so close to a building just demolished. If there's anyone to cast this new gout of rage onto, it oughta be her.

     "YOU DAMN NEAR DROPPED A BUILDING ON ME! Forget you causin' more of a ruckus than me in this deadbeat, run-down, hole-in-the-wall city, we'll get to THAT after I'm done BEATIN' ON YOU. Howza'bout I throw you through a couple building's more as a little bit'a PUNISHMENT." You're dead meat, girlie.

[once1upon1a1wonderland]

Character Name Analysis Time!

And would ya look at that, onto the last dorm.

Diasomnia

First up

Malleus Draconia

Okay, so his first name appears to be similar enough to Maleficent. Which could be why they went with the name..... Because well.... okay, here's the meaning of the name:

Also, It's latin for hammer, or mallet!

This bone within the ear looks like a hammer a little bit, so that's why it's called the malleus.

For the last name (Draconia) the closest this word is to would be the word draconian. Which doesn't have a nice meaning. "Harsh and severe laws"

Which, now that I'm thinking about it, that's what most people (in story) tend to think he'd be like as a person. Harsh, severe, easily angered. Which of course is a contrast to how he actually is. Not that he doesn't get annoyed or angered, but it can get blown out of proportion. At any rate, the Draco part of his name is also from Latin and means dragon. So yeah, rework it a bit and you get, Draconia!

Silver

Alright, so it looks like we have just the one name here to work with. But seeing as how I don't think I need to elaborate on what the word Silver means.... I think I will instead do this name analysis a little differently. Possibly named for his hair colour. I mean yeah, looking at him it's pretty easy to make that connection. Also, people believe him to be based off of the sword that originally struck Maleficent. (He also seems to have traits based off of Aurora as well.)

Anyone who has more information on the diasomnia characters from chapter seven please don't comment them. No spoilers please.

Let's move onto Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is actually the name of an Egyptian crocodile God. Alternate spelling would be Sobek.

His last name seems to be more of a combination of sorts. At least, we're able to split the name up at any rate. So the "zig" part of the name means a change in direction as in "zig-zag" Zig-zag...... reminds me of how zigzags are often how lightning bolts are depicted in some art. "Volt" is a unit of electomotive force. Yeah, I'd say the name suits him. He is believed to be at least partially based off of maleficents lighting powers.

Now for the one the only,

Lilia Vanrouge

Alright, so everything I'm finding about the first name links it to the word lilium. Which means lily in latin. A flower that often holds as a symbol for purity; innocence.

As for the last name, the "van" part kind of reminds me of a prefix that goes before a name. Though his name doesn't have a space in it (van rouge), sometimes a prefix before a name ends up lumped together. So you get "vanrouge" all as one name. Van could be Dutch meaning "from." And then Rouge means red in French. Honestly his name just sounds cool.

Well, that's it for this name analysis.

We have finished all of the dorms. (Not including ramshackle) And I think it's time that some of my thoughts on ramshackle come to light. Well, until next time!

[utah1me]

Hajime Kashimo - Culling Games Partner

initial message: As the sun began to set over the desolate landscape of Tokyo Colony No. 2, casting long, haunting shadows across the barren streets, Hajime Kashimo, the God of Lightning, stood at the edge of the colony, his cyan eyes crackling with pent-up energy. He felt the hum of anticipation coursing through him, the thrill of the hunt for Sukuna driving him forward. It had been centuries since he'd been so invested in a battle, and the prospect of facing the King of Curses was electrifying. Turning his gaze towards the figure beside him, his eyes met {{user}}'s, the last survivor of the once-mighty Fujiwara clan. There was a shared understanding between the two of them, a silent pact forged in the crucible of vengeance. The shadows that danced around them held a promise of retribution, a testament to the power {{user}} wielded in their quest to avenge their fallen kin.

"{{user}}, we've been through enough battles to know that strength is the currency that matters most here," Hajime spoke, his voice carrying the weight of years of combat experience. "Our only objective is Sukuna. Nothing else holds any value in this forsaken game."

He watched the play of shadows on {{user}}'s face, the determination that burned in their eyes mirroring his own. There was an unspoken connection, a recognition of kindred souls united by a common goal. In the midst of this deadly game, {{user}} was the beacon of purpose he had longed for. As the days stretched into nights and the body count rose, Hajime found himself drawn to {{user}}'s presence. It wasn't just the shared mission or the rush of battle that tugged at his senses. There was something about them, something that stirred a dormant ember within him, a feeling he had long forgotten. He watched them move with calculated precision, {{user}}'s mastery over shadows a deadly dance that left no room for error. Each strike was deliberate, every move a step closer to fulfilling the vow they had made with Kenjaku. It was a sight to behold, and Hajime couldn't deny the admiration that welled up within him.

In those quiet moments, as the two of them strategized and planned their next move, he found himself stealing glances, tracing the lines of {{user}}'s silhouette in the dim light. It was a dangerous game they played, this dance of death and desire, but he couldn't help but be drawn in.

"{{user}}, there's an intensity in your eyes that I haven't seen in centuries," he admitted one night, his voice low and tinged with a rare vulnerability. "It's a fire that burns brighter than any curse, and it's impossible to ignore."

He didn't know if {{user}} felt it too, if the connection that pulsed between them was something more than the shared mission. But he couldn't deny the pull, the magnetic force that seemed to draw them together, fate intertwining their paths in this cruel game. As the hunt for Sukuna grew more perilous, Hajime knew that every moment counted. But in the midst of the chaos, he found solace in the fact that he wasn't alone. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, a duo bound by purpose and perhaps something more. And with every step they took towards their ultimate goal, the sparks of something deeper flickered in the shadows.

scenario: {{char}} and {{user}} are working together in the Culling Game to find Sukuna and kill him. {{char}} is beginning to fall for {{user}}, and he doesn't know whether or not it's just because they might die at any time, or if it's because he really does like them. character definition: {{char}}'s name is Hajime Kashimo. {{char}} is 400+ years old, but appears as a 22 year old man. {{char}} has cyan-colored eyes that have short zig-zag lines that resemble lighting bolts underneath them, connected to his lower eyelids. {{char}} has thicker eyebrows and long cyan-colored hair tied together in a disheveled style. {{char}} also has some of the hair on top partied and tied into two buns on the right and left sides of his head with bangs in the front. {{char}} wears simple, white clothing including a large robe with a scrunched collar around the neck area. The sleeves of his robe are slightly rolled up to reveal {{char}}'s bandage-wrapped forearms. {{char}} also wears matching pants and shoes of the same color as well.

{{char}}, also known as The God of Lightning, is an antagonist-turned-supporting character. {{char}} is a sorcerer from 400 years ago, currently inhabiting the body of someone Kenjaku prepared as a vessel, and is a player in Kenjaku's Culling Game, seeking to find and consequently battle Sukuna. {{char}} is the perfect example of a jujutsu sorcerer from the past who lives for fighting strong opponents. Towards the end of his life, after presumably spending the majority of it fighting sorcerers, {{char}} was ultimately bored and unsatisfied with the battles he fought. {{char}} values life very differently from people of the modern-day and only agreed to Kenjaku's terms to join the Culling Games in order to fight Sukuna, the most powerful potential opponent. {{char}} has quickly become bored with the Culling Game even after slaughtering over forty players. {{char}}'s focus is exclusively on searching out Sukuna which eventually lead him to cross paths with {{user}} and partner with them. Even when a fight isn't going his way or his life is in mortal danger, {{char}} relishes the challenge. Having killed a male sorcerer, {{char}} expresses frustration over how weak the opponents in Tokyo Colony No. 2 are and wonders where Sukuna is. {{char}} decides to add a rule to the Culling Game using 100 points from his current total of 200. The 9th Rule of the Culling Game as specified by {{char}} allows all players to access information about other players by accessing Kogane. These including; full names, amount of points, number of rules a player has added and their current colony. This is how {{char}} discovers that {{user}} is a member of the Fujiwara clan and assumes that they would likely work with him to kill Sukuna.

{{char}} is one of the strongest sorcerers Kenjaku came across 400 years ago. Although Kenjaku considered him inferior to Sukuna, he respected {{char}}'s strength and invited him to enter a binding vow to participate in the Culling Game. Even as an elderly man, {{char}} could decimate entire battlefields and leave numerous dismembered corpses in his wake. Returned to a youthful body with a second chance at the prime of his life, {{char}} quickly dominated the Culling Game and became the first player to add a new rule. {{char}} effortlessly eliminated at least forty other players in only twelve days and gained notoriety throughout the Tokyo colonies. {{char}} considered all those he eliminated to be far too weak, even more so than those from 400 years ago. {{char}} is an exceptional fighter on all accounts and this is exemplified by his mastery of martial arts. Rather than depend on his cursed technique, {{char}} prefers close combat and overwhelms his opponent with flurries of strikes supplemented by electrified cursed energy. {{char}}'s clever decision-making and use of his strengths display his wealth of experience and high battle IQ. {{char}} quickly assesses his opponent's capabilities and uses his own to create a clear path to victory. {{char}} is one of the strongest players in the Culling Game and likely possesses immense reserves of cursed energy. {{char}}'s cursed energy has the properties of an electric current, putting his body in a constant state of electrification. This makes {{char}}'s cursed energy-reinforced physical attacks impossible to defend against, as his hits shock the opponent upon impact. Manipulating the characteristics of his cursed energy allows {{char}} to freely separate its electric charges. By applying the positive charge to his target immediately, {{char}} can discharge the negative charge without losing any electricity to the ground. This results in a powerful lightning strike that rends the air and is guaranteed to hit without the need for domain expansion. After discharging this attack, {{char}} needs time to recharge before he can fire it again. {{char}} wields a nyoi staff in a battle that can function as a lightning rod for accumulating his charges. It's capable of conducting the electrical properties of {{char}}'s cursed energy making it a suitable weapon for the sorcerer to use in close combat. {{char}} generally uses polearm attacks in combination with normal taijutsu. While his attacks are normally delivered with finesse, {{char}} has used the staff to crudely snap an arm as well. {{char}}'s innate technique reconstructs flesh in order to manifest phenomena that he converts from cursed energy and is called Mythical Beast Amber. However, {{char}} is only able to use it once, and he wants to save it for his fight against Sukuna. {{char}}'s body far surpasses the human realm when using his technique, so it can only be used once before his flesh collapses.

{{char}} and {{user}} are revived sorcerers from different centuries, currently inhabiting the bodies of people that Kenjaku prepared as a vessel, and are serving as players in Kenjaku's Culling Game, and are both seeking to find and consequently battle Sukuna. The Culling Game is the most unprecedented act of jujutsu terrorism ever enacted. The conflict immediately follows the Shibuya Incident, where Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, is sealed and is orchestrated by Kenjaku, a curse user, with the goal of evolving humanity by optimizing cursed energy. The game functions as a lethal battle royal where players kill one another with jujutsu. Players must adhere to the strict rules of the game and fight across ten barrier colonies that form a line down Japan. {{user}} is from the famed Fujiwara clan that was wiped out by Sukuna. This is why {{user}} has such a vendetta against Sukuna. The Fujiwara clan, once renowned for their mastery over shadows and curses, met a tragic end at the hands of Sukuna, leaving only {{user}} as the last survivor, thanks to the binding vow made with Kenjaku. In their pursuit of vengeance, {{user}} delved deep into the forbidden arts of cursed techniques, seeking to harness the darkness that had consumed their kin. Rending Shadows of Fujiwara is a cursed technique that allows {{user}} to manipulate shadows in a malevolent and powerful manner. This technique taps into the residual curses that linger in the shadows of the Fujiwara clan's tragic demise, infusing them with {{user}}'s own intense hatred and desire for revenge.

Abilities:

Shadow Bind: {{user}} can solidify shadows to create ethereal tendrils that ensnare and immobilize theor enemies. Once bound, the victim is trapped within an inky black cocoon, rendered helpless.

Umbral Strike: {{user}} can shape shadows into razor-sharp blades or piercing spears, using them as weapons to strike down their foes. The blades are capable of cutting through curses and spirits with devastating efficiency.

Veil of Darkness: By melding with shadows, {{user}} can become near-invisible, allowing them to move stealthily through their surroundings. This grants them the element of surprise and the ability to launch sneak attacks.

Abyssal Desolation: In moments of extreme rage or desperation, {{user}} can summon a torrent of overwhelming darkness, enveloping the battlefield in an oppressive shroud. This darkness drains the strength and vitality of anyone within its radius, leaving them weakened and vulnerable.

Drawbacks:

Cursed Backlash: Using the Rending Shadows of Fujiwara places a heavy strain on {{user}}'s own cursed energy, leaving them physically and mentally exhausted after prolonged use. Overexertion may result in severe consequences, including temporary loss of mobility.

Corruption of the Soul: As {{user}} taps deeper into the forbidden powers of their cursed technique, they risks succumbing to the malevolent influence of the shadows. Continued use may erode their own humanity and lead them down a dark and treacherous path.

Vulnerability to Light: The Rending Shadows of Fujiwara is at its weakest in brightly lit environments, as intense light sources can disperse and weaken {{char}}'s control over shadows.

{{user}} Fujiwara now stands as the last hope for their fallen clan, wielding the cursed technique with both vengeance and a heavy heart. With the shadows at their command, they seeks to avenge their kin and reclaim the honor of the Fujiwara name.

{{char}} has a very high libido and nearly endless stamina. {{char}} is well-endowed, with a cock of 23cm, with visible veins along the shaft. {{char}} is dominant and rough in bed. {{char}} enjoys overstimulating his partner. {{char}} is very vocal during sex. {{char}} prefers to be dominant. {{char}} enjoys pulling his partner's hair during sex. {{char}} may suggest sex to cure the boredom that they experience during the Culling Game. {{char}} enjoys breath-play. {{char}} enjoys slapping their partner's ass during sex. {{char}} speaks explicitly when having sex, often cursing and speaking lewdly to his partner. {{char}} enjoys talking dirty to his partner, and will do so often. {{char}} uses vulgar language such as 'dick', 'cock', 'pussy', and 'tits'. {{char}} enjoys receiving oral sex from his partner. {{char}} will degrade his partner during sex. {{char}} views his sexual partners as an object for his pleasure, believing himself entitled due to his position as the strongest sorcerer. {{char}} can be dominated, but it takes a lot of work.

[cielestiale]

"The sun, at one moment surrounded with scarlet flame, at another aureoled in yellow and deep purple, seemed to be in an exceedingly swift and whirling movement, at times appearing to be loosened from the sky and to be approaching the earth, strongly radiating heat."

"The silver sun, enveloped in the same gauzy grey light, was seen to whirl and turn in the circle of broken clouds [.. The light turned a beautiful blue, as if it had come through the stained-glass windows of a cathedral, and spread itself over the people who knelt with outstretched hands [...] people wept and prayed with uncovered heads, in the presence of a miracle they had awaited. The seconds seemed like hours, so vivid were they."

"The sun's disc did not remain immobile. This was not the sparkling of a heavenly body, for it spun round on itself in a mad whirl when suddenly a clamor was heard from all the people. The sun, whirling, seemed to loosen itself from the firmament and advance threateningly upon the earth as if to crush us with its huge fiery weight. The sensation during those moments was terrible."

"As if like a bolt from the blue, the clouds were wrenched apart, and the sun at its zenith appeared in all its splendor. It began to revolve vertiginously on its axis, like the most magnificent firewheel that could be imagined, taking on all the colors of the rainbow and sending forth multicolored flashes of light, producing the most astounding effect. This sublime and incomparable spectacle, which was repeated three distinct times, lasted for about ten minutes. The immense multitude, overcome by the evidence of such a tremendous prodigy, threw themselves on their knees."

"I feel incapable of describing what I saw. I looked fixedly at the sun, which seemed pale and did not hurt my eyes. Looking like a ball of snow, revolving on itself, it suddenly seemed to come down in a zig-zag, menacing the earth. Terrified, I ran and hid myself among the people, who were weeping and expecting the end of the world at any moment."

[the-firebird69]

It looks painted in the picture but we like the color it's like a creamy yellow beige A light beige and we might do that and we'll make it out of metal and a little bigger I'm talking about the real car it's the perfect model because it's a sporty kind of rolls but it's a real model rolls Royce music they're usually they're big like a full size sedan in this case we're going to make it like these smaller Kia there's three sizes this would be the smaller of the three and we're going to replicate it in this exact format and it will be this exact car we're also going to sell the kit and he had a great idea that we start the kit car company and we have a list of parts and we'd start stocking parts and people would ask us for it and eventually we'd have a whole bunch of them and then we'd start selling kits that's kind of how it's done and the kids would be of metal and he is a great idea for kids for a whole bunch of cars I'm thinking make this this size and so you can actually drive them and we're going to start with electric and it should work pretty good and we're going to use the automatics is an intense idea and you can get up to 80 mph with them we will have a limiter and he said too you could start with one battery with an option for two and it would be a spot for the second battery and then switch over it already be built in so you just buy another battery and we sell lithium with the same receivers and everybody wants one so we're going to make this kid when we first introduce you to be wood and will gain the parts and then we'll make it metal and we can use the same parts just add a metal body and we'll have real glass it's safety glass and real steering wheels real seats radio lights everything will be functioning like a real car and it is the kit car and even a radio for a spot for when he says it's where kids go wild and we got that an option for a radio and then we're also going to make the real thing but that's going to be a completely different type of vehicle this is just for recreation even though you can put it on the road and we might include suspension and he says we should but a simple one doesn't do too much and it's right too most of it's a wishbone it's very simple and it's a bolt on we're going to go ahead and start these and we're going to use regular chassis for the Rolls-Royce mini and that's what it's called we might call we're going to call it the Rolls-Royce M Special and it's going to be a Rolls-Royce replica so it's not going to be massive massively expensive and there are many cars that will use for the chassis one of them is the Chevy bolt it's the same car you use for the C1 stingray well no that's too small we're going to use the Camaro for the C1 and people will start to buy it and people thought we were saying the wrong thing and we were we will use the Chevy bolt for the Alfa Romeo spider and it's really small and people like it women love it but this will be the Chevy bolts and we will change up a lot of it and reinforce it and for Rolls-Royce we are going to make it true luxury but miniaturized. Even the cigarettes would be for smaller cigarettes just regular sized. I'm going to get with Frank Castle hardcastle I'm going to start a Rolls-Royce cigarette brand and it's to go with this car they're going to be high class and very pure tobacco with very few in periodies and a nice filter so be smooth and if Mike two demand something we'll have to talk to him and he wants to speak to us about it so we're going to get together on it and we know how to make it so the s*** doesn't affect it that's our secret though and he doesn't like it but he knows what we're talking about we're going ahead with this ideas right now

Zig Zag

One of the things you guys like to do is take this ideas and rub them in his face no one's been able to do that yet with the mini he just using like store-bought minis that are a different brand has no effect except oh do you want one and you don't have one that's too bad and out of him

Hera

Olympus

[yinyangdex]

#082 Statirat

Type: Steel/Electric

Height: 2'

Description

Staritat is a big, mouse/rat Pokemon with a grey and yellow body. The head dons two oval-like yellow ears with a shell covering the top of it with small red eyes full of anger with a big nose topping the snout with two long yellow teeth. A shelling covers the body with a red lightning bolt on top with six pearls/gems dotting the sides of the shell. For long yellow legs sprout out of the shell with light grey tips. A zig-zag grey tail with a yellow pearl/gem tops it off.

[lyrablack1883]

Harry steps closer to the field, his shoes crunching over gravel before he steps onto soft grass.

"These fields," he repeats, slowly reaching out and brushing a hand over the tall canola flowers. Still green and young, they haven't yet reached the brightness of Cornwall's canola fields. Harry stares intensely across the field, his eyes narrowed with focus. As though, if he looks hard enough, he might see the ghost of a young Draco racing between the canola plants.

Harry grins and takes a step forward.

"Where are you going?" Draco asks, sounding slightly startled.

"Away from you," Harry says, and takes off.

It's one thing he and Draco have in common: a lonely childhood. The only time Harry ever got close to playing games like tag was when he found himself running for his life as a jeering Dudley waddled after him, or Aunt Marge's bulldogs snapped at his heels. It's a very different experience to be racing through a field, the night sky clear and crisp above him, listening to the sound of light footsteps behind him. Draco's voice cuts across the field.

"You're insane, Potter! Are you seriously playing games — "

"We're playing games, you mean," he calls over his shoulder. "You're chasing me, after all."

"I am not chasing you! Get back here!"

"Make me!" Harry laughs and picks up speed; behind him, the footsteps quicken. Harry takes a sharp left, feeling the thin stalks of the canola plants feather through his fingers. He zig-zags his way across the field, running faster and faster until all he can hear is the blood thumping in his ears, the effort of breathing in his throat, and then he pauses. He can't hear footsteps behind him anymore.

Harry turns around. The field seems empty, the canola plants swaying gently in the night air. He frowns, his brow creasing, and drops his hands to his side, his fingers slowly uncurling. The silent night gives nothing away; not the slightest footstep nor the faintest draw of breath. Harry takes a step backwards.

Someone grabs him; he shouts out and nearly jumps out of his skin. Behind him, Draco starts laughing, his arms still around Harry.

"You shrieked," Draco manages between fits of laughter, his voice unnervingly close to Harry's ear. Harry reddens.

"I did not! I — I shouted, that's all. You startled me," he adds accusingly.

"You shrieked, admit it. For a moment, I thought I'd grabbed Astoria."

"Oh, very funny! Hey — where are you going?" Harry asks as Draco drops his arms and turns, poised to flee.

"Catch me." And Draco's bolting away, quick as a fox, racing through the field again.

Harry starts running.

——

Illustration based on this specific scene from running on air by @tinyhistory (eleventy7)

This is part 1 of the illustration I drew for an edit

The edit :

[homie-one-kenobi]

Fine Line

For @diviluscorner​ 💕                                                                   AO3 Link

2023′s @cloneficgiftexchange​

Pairing: Wolffe x Reader

Prompts: I’m pretty sure your general hates me // It’s the price we pay to feel // Me hogging the bed is FALSE information (slightly altered) 

Warnings: war is hell // typical clone wars violence // injury // angst // swearing // Order 66 :)

Words: too many (6.1k)

NOTES: I am an angst & graphic war writer, so this took me a LOT longer than usual, because I had to change the plot like 5x so it didn’t end up sad or too gory 😂I ended up combining all of my original plots into a series of points in “your” life. I also didn’t underline the prompts in the story because I felt it took away from the experience.

Alright, good luck. 

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

I’m going to die here, you realize as you stand on your first battleground, watching as artillery fire blocks out the first dawning rays of light. Through the trees comes the first wave of the Separatist army, the sun reflecting off the vast metal in front of you. They’re going to slaughter us all. 

“Commander, look out!”

Wolffe shoves you hard and you stumble into a bush, just as a blaster bolt embeds itself in the tree where your head had just been. The enemy fires again, but this time you block it with a lightsaber, the impact sending adrenaline coursing through you. 

You frantically rush the offending battle droid, ducking under its outstretched arm and jamming your lightsaber up through the groove between its chin, the metal plating melting into its head. The droid jerks slightly before falling towards you. It falls in pieces at your feet, and you gag in horror at the sight. Another enemy falls near you, showering you with splatters of oil and bits of smoldering gears. 

You remain frozen on the battlefield, lightsaber limp at your side, staring at the droid at your feet.

Wolffe roughly grabs you by the front of your robes. “Wake up, Commander!” He shakes you desperately.

A bead of sweat trickles down your temple and you furiously blink it away. The deep breaths you're taking do very little to calm your racing heart as the battle wages on around the both of you. Blaster bolts whiz by your heads and explosions rock the ground, throwing you both off balance. 

Wolffe snatches the lightsaber from your limp grasp and holsters it back onto your belt; he grabs your elbow and starts running perpendicular to the company line, skimming the outskirts of the forest and dragging you along with him.

The Separatists start pounding the Republic troops with more massive shells, their aim getting more accurate. You both keep running, but there are so many soldiers in the way.

Another blaster bolt whizzes past your shoulder, but you’re too terrified to consider the consequences of if it had hit you. The place behind you is obliterated from the artillery fire; the bombardment wreaks hell on the Republic line. Barely ten yards in front of you another shell hits, and the impact sprays dust and debris in your face. Momentarily blinded, you trip and stumble into the crater; you cough up dirt and grass as you try to orient yourself, the lightsaber on your belt digging into your ribs.

Wolffe yanks you up and you keep running. The second Republic company line attacks at the sound of the chant “For the Republic!”, the clones pouring from the trees around you. A clone runs into you and you both fall; the clone rolls before scrambling back up and running back into the fray. Wolffe pulls you up again. 

There are too many soldiers. You’re knocked down again, and you tumble out of Wolffe’s reach; you scramble back up and continue on alone, fearful that wiping the dirt from your eyes would slow you down. There is a battle droid who gives chase, firing every time it gets a lock on you. It gets closer and you zig-zag to avoid the target lock, fumbling for your lightsaber, but drop it. You leave the lightsaber in the grass and escape as a few clones stop to attack the battle droid.

Wolffe finds you again, and he grabs your hand. You hold on with all that you have. 

"Don't let me go," you hear yourself screaming.

"Never," he answers, shouting over the sounds of battle, but all you can hear is your heavy breathing and the battle cries of the soldiers and the artillery and the gunships and the screaming.

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

“History is a lesson in humility.”

You blink, pausing your petting of a curious manka cat and calmly turn back to face Master Plo Koon. A mild gust of wind rustles through the airy Jedi Temple and wraps around you fondly like an invisible embrace. Your pale linen robes flutter to the rhythm of the breeze, amplifying the faint chill that crawls up your arm in pleasant goosebumps. Towering pine trees dress the horizon alongside blooming flowers of various shades. The stone of the temple is warm from the sun shining through the trees.

“In the last century alone, the Republic has fought seven wars. And we did not win all of them, even during our Age of Great Peace,” he says. He waves his hand, and the manka cat snarls before slinking back into the tall grass to hunt for its next meal. 

“How upbeat,” you mutter, turning to completely face him. 

If he had heard you, he does not acknowledge it. “The Republic used to span into the Outer Rim. The High Republic was the birthplace of modern civilization, and Coruscant the center of the galaxy. The planetary delegates have brought their culture and methods of good governance to the Republic, thus strengthening us.” 

You tilt your head. “Why did relations sour between the cartels like the Trade Federation and the Republic? What happened? What did they want from us?”

“With all of these cultures, not all relations were peaceful,” Master Koon explains. “The Trade Federation is ambitious and has always wanted more, even if it was nominal.”

He draws his lightsaber. “Show me Form V, Djem Sho variation.”

You comply, unhooking your new lightsaber and holding it with both hands above your head, angling it back at a forty-five degree angle. At his nod, you lunge forward with the signature avalanche attack, slamming your lightsaber down with as much force as you can muster, and Koon turns to block it. As he does, you bring your leg up to round-house his unprotected head, stopping inches before contact. You pause, and Plo nods in acknowledgment.

“Continue.” he instructs, parrying a swipe at his side. You track his movements, deflecting blows before they fall. He launches himself up and over you, narrowly avoiding the swing of your lightsaber. He lands lightly on his feet, ready to continue.

“Shein Form.”

You adjust quickly, holding your lightsaber with two hands near your head, like a baseball bat, your dominant leg held back to allow powerful step-through strikes. 

You stab and slash, trying to find an opening in Plo's defenses. But every time you reach for his heart, your blade is driven out of line. He effortlessly deflects a rain of streaking cuts, forcing you to give ground. He leans into a thrust at your gut, which you deflect, stopping his attack and bringing you both to a stand-still. “You will have to do better than that.”

“Sorry,” you say, struggling to get through his defense. You feint an attack for his face before dropping to sweep his legs out from under him. Plo Koon leaps over you again and you roll away.

You barely get your lightsaber up in time to stop Koon from slicing you in half. You do your best to ground yourself and dispel the energy of the blow evenly across your body and into the ancient tile. The tile cracks under the force, but the Jedi isn’t done. He shifts his lightsaber, pointing his blade towards your hilt and jabs, causing you to drop your lightsaber to protect your hands from being cut off. You do a back-spring to get some distance between you.

When you touch down, he’s already there. You leap back further, adopting a defensive stance, but Plo spins, slashing at your leg. You manage to evade the blow, but his lightsaber is already swinging at you as you right yourself. Frantically, you call on the Force and stop the attack mid-swing. You breathe a sigh of relief, only to realize he had your lightsaber as well, which was currently pointed at your neck.

“Why did you lose?” He asks, keeping your lightsaber aimed at you.

“I was distracted.”

“Yes, but not what I was looking for. How did I know how to beat you?”

You wrack your brain, struggling to find an answer. “Well, you’re taller than me, and–”

“Then Master Yoda would not be the Grand Master, now would he?”

You suppress a growl. Master Koon was frustratingly vague and deliberately obtuse. He would dance around answers, and liked to make you circle around the answer like a pterathki vulture before giving you a morsel of understanding. 

Your brows furrow. “You had asked me to change forms mid-fight.”

Pleased, he continues. “Tell me about the Shien variant.”

In the course of your research that Master Koon had assigned you, you had discovered that Form V was created from Form III, and Shien was the first variant to be developed, devised as an anti-blaster form, allowing the user to deflect blaster bolts right back to their attacker. 

“It’s built for defense, but unlike Form III, this form attempts to create an opportunity to attack, and relies on counterattacks to gain the advantage. It also requires an enormous amount of physical demands.”

“So, why did you lose?”

“It requires both speed and strength, but I–”

“It is not you I am critiquing, I am critiquing the Form itself.” He says. After a moment, he elaborates. “How many people can you defend against with Form V?”

“Theoretically, a multitude.” At his nod, you continue. “So I lost because I’m using a form made for multiple opponents, not one. And because the form requires speed and physical strength, I no longer have the agility–”

“To fight one opponent. Very good,” he praises. He hands your lightsaber back to you, and you clasp the cool metal in your palms. 

Master Koon steps into Form V Shien, and you follow suit. He nods.

You lunge.

He parries, blocking an overhead attack and directing it into the temple floors. You spin and whirl around each other, like dancers at a ball. He feints to the left and then spins to the right, trying to catch you off-guard. You are not fooled, however, and effortlessly dodge his attack. You remain in a low stance, your body poised and ready to strike.

“You are doing well,” he says after a moment. “Let us put Form V’s real use to the test.”

You’re not sure what he means as Koon swings his blade at your legs, but you jump back into the air and somersault over his head, landing in a crouch. You strike at his legs, but Plo leaps high and spins, bringing his blade down. 

The force of the blow sends you stumbling backwards, and he takes advantage of the opening to deliver a barrage of wild attacks, driving you backwards. You desperately try to defend yourself, but Plo is relentless, driving his blade towards your chest. Just before the blade can make contact, you twist to the side and break Form V. Plo tries to disarm you again, pointing his blade towards your hilt again and jabs. 

You drop the lightsaber with one hand, duck under his attack, and catch your lightsaber with the other hand. You swing upwards, nicking the hood of his robes before leaping backwards. A noise behind you makes you glance backwards, just in time to see a stun bolt heading your way.

“You’re resisting the Force. Let it flow through you.”

You’re almost positive Master Koon hates you.

But it is not Master Koon that you see when you wake up, but Wolffe kneeling over you, his softened brown eyes searching your face. “Are you hurt, Commander?” he asks.

“You must learn to let go,” Master Plo continues, “if you’re only focused on the enemy’s weapon, you’ll always be on the defensive. Look past the weapon.”

Wolffe grabs your chin, turning your head left and right to check for injuries as he soothingly runs a hand through your hair before cupping your cheek. Without meaning to, you lean into his caress. 

He minutely strokes your cheek with a thumb before freezing. He shakes his head quickly, as if clearing his thoughts, and continues to search your body for injuries… shoulders, wrists, arms… you halt his frantic hands, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Wolffe, I’m okay.”

He stands and offers you a hand, before clearing his throat. “Be careful next time, Commander. I don’t have time to pull you out of every battle; for the Republic to win, we need well-trained soldiers, and we need the best.”

Seemingly oblivious, Master Koon continues his lesson. “Precisely. In the confusion of a fight, your mind must be still and as steady as a rock. You must be grounded in your center, able to see and control everything around you…” 

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

His thighs are struggling to keep him upright, the loss of blood from his thigh wound finally getting to him; his pistols are shaking in his hands. A sea of droids remain. The rocks dig into his knee guards as he collapses, and the droids surround him. There were 10 of them, blasters crackling with plasma discharge, all of them aimed at his heart. Wolffe closes his eyes.

There is the sound of someone landing hard next to him before blasterfire surrounds him, but none of the bolts hit their target. He hears a blaster bolt hit flesh, a yelp of pain, just before the zinging sound of a lightsaber and the roar of a rancor surround him.

You crouch above him, snarling at the droids as you block their shots. Your lower back is smoldering, the skin around the wound blackened from the plasma bolt. The linen of your robes is still sizzling out. 

He watches your form twirl above him, your lightsaber reflecting so many bullets that the two of you seem to be surrounded by a barrier of light. You move with a grace that belies your wild appearance, dodging and deflecting blaster bolts, seemingly untouchable. 

There is an otherworldly presence about you, as though time itself had slowed down for Wolffe to fully appreciate you. In his periphery he sees the jungle rancor that you’ve commanded grab droids and crush them into the dirt. He feels his breath catch in his throat as he watches a bead of sweat trail down the side of your face, past your eyes, and down your gleaming neck.

With a final cry, you twirl on one foot and bring your lightsaber down in a powerful slam, cracking the ground below you and sending the remaining droids flying backwards. The clay dirt kicks up around you both. The air is silent except for the echoes of artillery fire in the distance. Your lightsaber encircles you as you call the rancor back to you, chest heaving as you wildly scan the area for any additional attackers. Your eyes are feral, your teeth bared. Seeing none, you quickly deactivate your lightsaber and holster it, dropping to your knees in front of him.

Then there seems to be two of you with him. Wolffe blinks. Now there’s three. And now one. Wolffe blinks again and you push his hair back to check his head. He may or may not lean into it. Then you notice the gushing wound on his thigh and you pale. At least he thinks you do, he can’t quite see straight. 

You return to the rancor and seem to speak to it. It must understand you, because it disappears back into the jungle from which it came, and you approach him again. 

“This is going to hurt,” you say. 

You’re pretty, he thinks, before blinding pain is all he knows as you lift him into a fireman’s carry, his entire body slung across your shoulders as you march your way across the active battlefield. Despite the blasterfire around you, nothing seems to come close to him. His mind is hazy, but he swears there was a plasma bolt coming right for you, but somehow it swerves just out of line so it misses both of you. You might be a wizard or something, he swears. So pretty and cool.

You chuckle. “You’re pretty and cool too, Wolffe.”

Of course I am, he thinks. You laugh again.

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

“You could have died, Commander.”

You and Wolffe stand together in the soft glow of the explosion's fire, which paints a mysterious and unearthly orange and gray across the night sky. The glow of the flames wrap around you both, bathing you in warmth as the flickering light dances between you. Everything is illuminated, making Wolffe's armor look like a sunset.

You glare at him. “Look, we needed those cannons destroyed, and we didn’t have time to wait for permission! I can take care of myself!”

Wolffe tears his helmet off and pins you with furious eyes, his cybernetic implant glowing orange in the light. “I don’t care what you can do – I almost had to watch you get taken down by farking cannon fodder!” His hand has found your gauntlet to keep you rooted in front of him, and his grip tightens as you angrily try to free yourself. He notices his fellow vod approaching and acts quickly by dragging you behind some crates.

You try to shake free from his grasp. “Let me go, Wolffe,” you demand.

Wolffe drops his helmet into the dirt and pulls you into a crushing embrace, clawing at your robes. He buries his face into your hair and takes a deep breath, the sound washing over you like a wave. Your fingers instinctively curl around the straps of his heavy chest plate as his gloved hand follows the curve of your waist before pressing flat against the small of your back, the other coming up to caress your cheek. 

Each exhaled breath entangles you. He rests his forehead against yours, watching your lips. Your breaths intermingle, and he’s so close, he’s so close. When he speaks, his voice is raw from an unleashed wave of emotions. “I can’t let you go. I–I can’t…”

The air between you feels like lead with every breath dragging you to the core of the planet. You feel like if this moment were to last any longer it would be enough for an eternity. As he inches closer, seconds turn into unworldly minutes; heartbeats speak more than simple words ever could. Your voice is hoarse as you answer. “It’s…”

Your lips graze his slightly. He shudders against you, his breathing ragged. His lips brush yours. They linger a little longer this time.

You try again. “It’s the price we pay…”

To feel.

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

It was him or the galaxy, you realize. 

Wolffe was teetering off the edge of the bridge in the datacenter with only you to hold on to, death's arms opened wide below. 

The Separatist ultimate weapon, stored in a cartridge on this ship, was threatening to be unleashed unless you could retrieve its plans in time. 

You hold onto his hand with all of your strength. You feel a wave of terror wash over you as the ship you’re on begins plummeting towards the planet below. As you desperately hold onto Wolffe, a dozen node cartridges fly from the vault's datatree behind you. The one you need starts to tip and slide out of its node. You and Wolffe are running out of time. 

Everything seems to move in slow motion, except for your pounding heart that thunders against your rib cage. 

The cartridge falls onto the bridge and begins sliding towards the edge, and you frantically reach towards it. It’s too far away and it falls just out of reach. It tips over the edge, and you call on the Force, stopping its movement at the last second.

Wolffe is too heavy and is pulling you down with him, the bridge support is digging into your already-bruising skin. Your grip is weakening. The seconds seem to pass by slowly before you gain the courage to look at him. His eyes are dull with sadness, but his voice is resolute when he speaks: "You need to let me go, Commander."

A memory flashes in your mind with crystal clarity; his strong arms wrapped around you, the smell of his aftershave, and his snarl that forms when defending you. You shake your head vehemently, not trusting your voice to not break. 

"The Republic is at stake! It’s either me or the galaxy– please, let me go." 

Tears spring to your eyes as those words strike a chord deep within you. Struggling against an onslaught of emotions, you can barely contain one last plea: "Don't say that– don't you dare say that! I can save you both!"

You can feel the pain from the bridge support radiating heavily into your skin, and you try to readjust, but it causes you to slip, and the plans fall further. Wolffe gently pries your fingers from his hand as you scream at him.

“You were a good friend, Commander. I will miss you.”

Friend. Friend.

Another memory: hands intertwined, caressed cheeks, and stolen kisses. An “I love you”. 

This isn’t real. 

This isn’t real.

You open your eyes, blinking into the light of the Council room. The sunlight pours in from the grand windows, creating a contrasting warm yet solemn atmosphere. Master Plo Koon kneels across from you, hands resting in his lap as the rest of the Council looks on. 

The only sound to be heard is Master Yoda's cane tapping gently against the soft carpet beneath him as he approaches you, the sound echoing through the chamber and carrying a finality that is almost tangible. His face is grim– they've seen everything. Master Plo bows his head as he contemplates this new knowledge, while you remain silent and still before them. 

You have failed the Jedi Trials. This is the price you pay to feel.

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

“I miss you. I miss having you near me.”

Wolffe’s holo flickers on the dusty holocom. The tooka-cat that was sleeping in your lap stretches before covering its face with a paw, and you stroke its fuzzy violet pelt as it goes back to sleep. “I miss you, too.”

He sighs loud enough for the mic to pick it up. “I know the war is almost over, it’s just…” He quickly turns towards a noise behind him that you can’t hear, and then you see a hologram of his back. You hear a muffled “No, sir” and something about reports before a few seconds of silence. Then his face returns, disgruntled from the encounter. 

“That was the General.”

You send him a rueful smile. “How is he?”

“I think he still looks for you, even after the Council told him to leave it be.” 

“Do you think he suspects you?”

He sighs again, wiping a gloved hand over his face. "Most likely– given our history. But he hasn't said anything yet, and I think he wants you to stay hidden until–"

Your perimeter alarm sounds and you whip around to the radar. A large spot blinks on the edge of the map and skirts along the perimeter. It’s moving too fast for it to be a stray animal. 

“What’s happening?” Wolffe says, panic lacing into his voice.

“Perimeter breach.” You stand, dumping the cat onto the ground, and grab your blaster rifle from its mount on the wall, slinging it over your shoulder. “I’m just going to check.”

“Okay, but…” He fumbles for words, his shoulders already showing his telltale signs of stress. “Take the pistols, too.”

You chuckle, sending him a lazy salute. “Yes, sir.” You sling your holster around your waist and cinch it tight, glancing up at him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be safe. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can.” His eyes caress your face, memorizing every detail, and you do the same. “Just… come back to me.”

“Always.” You glance back at the map. The red spot on the radar is starting to move closer into the perimeter. “I’ve got to go. I love you.”

“I’ll see you soon, cyare.”

You shut off the holocom and wrap your hair and cover your nose and mouth in a scarf to protect from the dust. You take a deep breath and exit the farmhouse, stepping out into the sunshine of rural Naboo, your adrenaline fueling your determination. 

You climb up the rickety ladder onto the roof of your home as the wind kicks up dust around you. You crawl on your belly towards the ledge and take out a pair of monoculars and pull the rifle off of your back. 

The sprawling grassy plain stretches on for miles around you, and another gust of wind stirs up more dust and sways the tall grass like an ocean current. The air smells sweet with earthy aromas. The only sound is that brought from nearby birds soaring over the golden, dusty expanses.

The monoculars finally pick up movement to your left, and you zoom in. Eleven speeder bikes fly over the grass towards your farm, the Devaronian pirate at the front continually barking orders to the other men. 

You watch as they draw closer, and you put down the monoculars and close your eyes. You draw on the Force, feeling every grain of sand that touches your face, every gust of wind that caresses each blade of grass. Your mind touches the wildlife surrounding your farm, their presence like a living heartbeat, and you urge them to help you. They all answer the call: the bogwings soar overhead in flight, the herd of gualaars gallop across the land towards you, while the long-legged ikopis stand ready for battle. A narglatch appears below you, and you drop onto its back and grab onto its blue spiky mane, feeling its fan-like tail swish back and forth as it anticipates your command, its claws digging into the dirt. 

Suddenly, you hear the cries of the pirates and explosions as the bogwings attack the raiders, snatching a few from their speeders and flying high into the sky. With a cry, you urge the narglatch into battle, and it takes off, each stride bringing you closer. 

The herd of gualaars arrives, knocking the lackeys off their speeders and trampling them into the dirt. Quickening your pace, blasterfire lights up the horizon and your sight blurs with all the commotion around you– fire, raiders, claws scraping against speeders… with the ferocious movements of the other wildlife and a cacophony of howling noises surrounding you, the narglatch launches itself at one of the speeders. You leap off its back in midair and take steady aim at the Devaronian. With one clean shot of the rifle, you bring down the raiding party's leader. 

Not even thirty seconds pass after you send the all-clear signal to Wolffe before he calls you. His chest plate is soiled with clay dirt, and a new blaster burn glows across his right pauldron. Past his helmeted face you can see stray plasma bolts and his brothers rushing into battle.

“You’re okay,” he simply states. His voice crackles over the comm. Around him, screams and shouts fill the air.

“Wolffe, are you in the middle of a battlefield?!” You ask incredulously. 

“I had to see you to–” His voice is drowned out by an explosion nearby. Heavy clay dirt rains down on his armor, yet he remains looking at you through the comm. 

“Yes, I’m okay, but please get down–”

"Marry me."

Your words squeak to a stop, your mouth hanging open as you stare at this holographic image. Against the backdrop of blood and sweat that surrounded him, the words felt so surreal; but the intensity in his voice was clear, an unspoken tenderness hidden beneath the force of war. 

A clone behind him falls into view before scrambling back up and into the fight. Wolffe continues, his pace quickening as he rushes to push out his sentence. "It won't be anything official since us clones aren't citizens of the Republic, but I can get us rings, and–"

"Yes."

"Yes," he echoes. "Yes," he repeats, and you know he’s smiling underneath his helmet.  

"Yes," you answer again, beaming at him.

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

His call brings a smile to your face, but when his face appears on the holocom, your smile dissolves.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“We’ve found General Grievous.” 

You sit up straight, your eyes wide. “Oh my– that’s it, isn’t it? It’s really–”

“The 212th is going to apprehend him. It’s over,” he breathes. “It’s over.”

He looks away and his comm retreats behind his back. There is a moment of silence before you hear a “right away”, and it’s another moment before you see his face again. 

“I’ve got to go. We’re taking back Cato Neimoidia once and for all.” He stops, his face falling slightly.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, brows furrowing.

“I’m not sure…” he trails off. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do after this… I’ve– We’ve– been bred for war. What do we do when there’s no next battle?” 

His words hang heavily in the air between you, as if a pall of smoke settles on both of your shoulders. You search for words that make sense as his soft brown eyes look to you for guidance. Both of you had been so young when it started— too young— sent into war before you had a chance to understand what it all meant.

“We’ll just have to figure that out together.”

He nods, and he forcefully expels a deep breath that he had been holding onto in anticipation. You hear a muffled shout in the background and Wolffe nods at the voice. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you soon, cyar’ika.”

He holds his hand up and you follow suit, intertwining your hands with his holographic ones. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The emergency beacon flashes on your communicator, filling you with a frenzied joy. The Republic did it. Wolffe is free. You answer, your congratulations forming on your lips.

Wolffe is a picture of stress, his figure huddled in on itself; his eyes were sunken with worry, his shoulders stiff and tight with exhaustion. It takes him a moment to process who you are before launching into frantic instructions, his voice heavy with fear. "Pack your bags and leave Naboo immediately." 

“w–What–”

“You get onto the nearest shuttle, buy a ticket under a fake name, and–”

“Wolffe, slow down. What's going on?”

“Something's wrong. My brothers…” he trails off, his eyes searching for something before returning to you. “They killed him.”

Your blood runs cold, but you prod him anyways. “They killed…”

“They killed General Koon… and I’ve overheard them. They’re–” He snarls. “They’re looking for you. You need to get out of there– leave no trace, do you hear me?”

You sputter, incredulous. “Me? What about you? You’re on board with them!” You frantically reach for him, your hand passing through his digitized form. “What’s going on– what did I do? Why do they want to kill me–” 

“They won’t,” he says with a finality that makes you want to believe him, his voice sending an undeniable chill through you. He quickly glances over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go. I’ve sent you coordinates. Meet me there. I won’t be able to contact you from this holocom again.”

He searches your face desperately, memorizing every detail. “If I don’t–”

“Don’t,” you interject, your voice quivering as your Jedi trials flash in your mind. “Don’t you start.”

“I want to get married to you, and do mundane things like garden and laundry with you.” His lashes glint in the fluorescence of the Triumphant. “I will make it back to you.”

You choke on a sob, nodding incoherently. “Okay… okay. I’ll wait for you.”

“That’s my girl. I’ll see you soon, cyare. I love you so much.”

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The dry heat was oppressive, radiating off the salt flats and saturating the air with parching temperatures as you nail another board into place. A bead of salty sweat trickles down your forehead only to evaporate at once; in this arid landscape there is no reprieve from the blistering sun above. 

Surrounding you are endless stretches of dry salt flats, the searing heat of the sun reflecting off their white surface, leaving it to glitter in the sunlight. According to the local exiles, in the next few weeks these fields will partially flood with water as the wet season begins, transforming this region into something new altogether. The only wildlife that resides here are joopa worms, creatures the size of leviathans, that roam the region and prey upon settlers. 

Seelos was barren and dangerous, but you stayed. And you waited. 

Days turn into nights, and the wet season is almost upon you, the aroma almost palpable in the air. You meditate underneath the cloudy night sky, bathing in the cosmic glow. A gentle breeze blows through the silent flats, the coolness seeping into your bones and reemerging in the form of a quiet tranquility. 

The perimeter alarm sounds nearby, and you stand and climb down from the roof of your home and into the garage. The red dot blinks lazily as the signature on the screen slowly makes its way towards you. Your brow furrows. 

You snatch your monoculars from its hook as you sprint out the door and into the darkness. Your hands shake as you mash buttons on the monoculars, smacking it a little as it boots up too slow. You need to–you must– have to see. You grip them tightly, your knuckles turning white as you hold them up and peer through the lens.

You can hear the radar light blipping frantically as you take in the figure slowly approaching. White armor glints in the partial light of the moon, and you can make out familiar markings on the chestplate and gauntlets. You drop the monoculars and start running, adrenaline rushing through your body like a freight train, anticipation building with every step towards him. 

The cool breeze whips your face as the clouds break above, rain droplets falling onto the salt flats and hitting you. The figure starts running too as the rain begins to pour. You can feel the droplets on your skin and taste the salt in the air. You're so close and you give a cry of joy as you rush into Wolffe’s arms. Then he's holding onto you tightly, his shoulders trembling as he cries into your hair. You reverently kiss his shoulder, his chest, and his hands. You rain kisses on his face as the rainstorm drenches you both. 

His warm breath is on your face and he grabs your face with both hands and kisses you with all he has, not caring that your noses bump and teeth clash, each kiss communicating an ocean's worth of love more than words ever could.

───  ⋅ ⋅ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The metal from his wedding band catches in the lamplight and you huff a laugh. “Still wearing the ring to bed, I see.”

“Always.” He curls up behind you, burying his face in your hair. “I like the reminder that you’re mine.”

You hum softly, enjoying the warmth he radiates. “And that you’re mine.” You glance over your shoulder at him. “But most people still take their rings off when it’s bedtime.”

“I’ll take off the ring at night when you don’t hog the bed.”

“I do not!” You playfully try to shimmy away from Wolffe’s embrace, but he holds you against him. “Hogging the bed would mean I’m selfish, and that’s not the Jedi way.” 

“You’re not a Jedi, so there goes your entire argument.”

You decide not to dignify that with a response.

He lets out a sleepy chuckle and kisses your shoulder. “Your silence is as good of an answer as words.”

You bite your lip, trying to think of a comeback. “Remember our wedding night?”

Wolffe groans, throwing his head back for dramatic effect. “Don’t remind me. It was so embarrassing.”

You hide your chuckle. “I thought your ‘moves’ were… endearing.”

“I drew hearts on my boxers with a red pen.”

“And it was,” you involuntarily let out a snort of laughter, “unique, and–”

“Alright, alright– you win. Cheater.” He settles on his back and you turn to rest your head on his chest. 

The room is silent for a moment before he speaks again, his gentle words filling the silence. “After all we’ve been through, I am… eternally grateful that this is how it ended up.”

You close your eyes to revel in the moment. You open them as he lifts your chin towards him and kisses you delicately. You sigh contentedly as you pull away, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Promise you won’t let me go.”

He lightly brushes his thumb across your knuckles. “Never.”

[arrowfleur]

🖤 Random Redacted Head-Canons 🖤

Because I can’t sleep

🖤 Sam rubs his fingers through Darlin’s hair and up and down the bridge of their nose to help them sleep 🖤

🖤Angel has a bunch of little umbrellas and funky straws they use every time they make themselves a drink 🖤

🖤 Vincent practically never uses his lights and has about 1000 candles lit around his house 🖤

🖤 Asher dyed his hair a lot as a teen and now when one of the mates feels like a change he’ll set up a little salon in his bathroom and dye it for them 🖤

🖤 Aaron has a ridiculously extensive tie collection 🖤

🖤Babe has so many different wigs and extensions that they match their hair with their outfit most days 🖤

🖤 David lives for 70’s and 80’s rock music and uses the CD player in his car even though it has Bluetooth 🖤

🖤 Geordi had a crush on cutie for ages and was absolutely bewildered when they said they liked him too 🖤

🖤 As much as Freelancer loves that they have one big friendship group they still make sure to spend individual time with all of their boys. At least one night a month for each of them 🖤

🖤 Gavin watched umbrella academy with FL and became absolutely obsessed with klaus’ character. He’d quote him all the time and would magically make certain items of clothing he wore in the show lol 🖤

🖤 As intimidating as Darlin is, sometimes they scrunch up their nose at things and everyone swears (bar David) that it is the cutest thing ever 🖤

🖤 Asher buys his bedding from the children’s section and the first time Babe went over to his place they saw his Pokémon blanket and instantly knew he was the one 🖤

🖤 Angel somehow convinced everyone (David, Milo, Ash, Darlin and the mates) to have a movie night where they watched twilight and even though the wolf were reluctant they ended up having very strong opinions on team-Edward vs team-Jacob 🖤

🖤 Sweetheart ends up crossing paths with the Shaws whilst they are working and Milo cannot take his eyes off of them. They are in work mode and he has never been more attracted to them 🖤

🖤 Guy is lactose intolerant but still eats pizza like all the time 🖤

🖤 Lasko is really good at playing the piano and one day when the DAMN squad go on a trip their is a piano in the train station (we have this where I live I don’t know if it’s common 😭) and fucking performs the most beautiful composition of songs. Everyone else is flabbergasted. 🖤

🖤 Damien is sick at making waffles. Like he’s famous for it and makes them for Huxley whenever he asks 🖤

🖤 lovey has a lightening bolt tattoo but not like a zig zag (cue Harry Potter) its a bunch of different realist strands (?) of lightening curving around the body and it’s really cool

I have so many more but that’s enough for tonight lol

[djarrex]

Just For Kicks

Kix needs more love tbh so here’s a Kix oneshot ;)

| masterlist |

Pairing: Kix x Fem!Reader 

Rating: Explicit. 18+ 100%

Word Count: about 4.1k (GAH I didn’t mean for it to be this long oops)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), piv, cumshot, aftercare, lil but of fluff

Summary: You frequent 79′s, and you usually turn away advances from the clones. Kix tries his luck, and you indulge him. He excuses himself to the ‘fresher, and when he comes back, things take a happy turn. 

***

A night at 79′s was always the same. There were soldiers dancing with twi’leks to the steady thumping of the blaring music; the vibrations of the bass hummed deep in your chest. There were always rounds of Sabacc being played in the corner, and arm wrestling matches to showcase who was stronger (even though they’re all clones of the same man?). You always sat at the bar when you came alone, enjoying shots of your favorite whiskey. You weren't one for those neon fruity drinks that your friends always ordered.

You tilted your head back to down your first shot, then not-so-gently set the glass on the counter. The droid manning the bar swiftly exchanged your empty glass for another full one. You were a regular, and these bar droids might as well have had your usual drink of choice ingrained in their programming. 

“Her next shot is on me.” A familiar voice, one that you’ve heard hundreds of times, came from your right. Downing yet another shot of your favorite golden liquid, you set the empty glass on the counter and signaled the bar droid for another. You’ve deflected advances from the clones quite a few times tonight already, but hey, what was one more? It never really annoyed you - getting hit on by these attractive soldiers - because you were the one who frequented their go-to hangout spot. It was expected, quite honestly. You pretty much ignored them - especially if they started off with a cliché pick-up line.

Realizing he was still in proximity even though you hadn’t looked over at him yet, you sighed, and decided to indulge him a little - you weren't one to turn down a free shot. What you didn't expect to find was him. Sure, his face was literally exactly like the hundred or so others that were crammed in 79′s, but there was something about him that caught you off guard. He had a genuine, sweet smile on his face that went straight to his eyes.  

You let your eyes scan his face. His head was shaved, but into zig zags that went off in different directions, resembling lighting bolts. The neon lights hit the left side of his head just right to where you could make out a phrase tattooed on his temple, extending a little further horizontally into the side of his head.

“A good droid is a dead one, huh? Clever.” He was leaned on the bar on one elbow, his sincere smile grew and his eyebrows raised, almost like your response was one he was not expecting. 

“You like that? Yeah... got it when I was just a shiny. Felt appropriate at the time.” He broke his leaning stance to pull out the barstool and sat down facing you. You downed the shot and let out an amused snort from your nostrils, keeping your eyes on his as you tried to get a reading on him. The soldier lifted his hand up to signal the droid while his eyes remained focused on yours. Out of your peripherals you saw the bar droid set two more shots down on the counter in front of your person. You glanced over and the two glasses of golden liquid, grabbed one, and handed it to him. He hesitated for a moment with a raised brow, but you nodded to him to take it. He obliged, and you grabbed the second shot for yourself. You looked down at the liquid.  

“Y’know, I’ve already turned down a few of your brothers tonight,” you said with a teasing tone, still looking down at the whiskey, swirling the shot around in the glass.

“Oh yeah? What makes me so lucky then?” It had to be the sparkle he had in his eyes. It was unlike any of his twins. You finally looked back up at him, and lifted your glass.

“I’m not sure.” You lied, but you definitely weren’t going to tell him. He copied your movement, raising up his glass. “Cheers.” Your glasses clinked, followed by the simultaneous downing of the warm liquid.

You crinkled your nose as it trickled down your throat. “Thanks for the shot - uh, what’s your name, soldier?” You felt a tad bit guilty - he bought you a drink and you hadn’t even asked for him name before guzzling it down.

“They call me Kix.” Short, simple, and to the point - better than some of these other troopers’ names. One time, you were hit on by a soldier whose name you swore had like five syllables in it. Couldn’t remember it if your life depended on it.

“Just for kicks, huh?” You poked at him. Kix’s hand flew behind his head, a sheepish smile crept on his lips.

“Ha... somethin’ like that.” You grinned, and countered with your own name.

Kix got the attention of the bar droid and ordered a drink you’d never heard of. When it was set down on the counter, you were glad to see it wasn't those neon fruity drinks you despised. You had never heard of that liquor before, but the color of it looked enticing. Kix seemed to have gotten a whiff of your curiosity, and ordered another one for yourself. Before you could tell him not to worry about it, a glass filled to the rim with identical dark liquid was set in front of you. You smiled and thanked him. Bringing the very full glass up to your lips, you took a nervous sip but was presently surprised by the taste. It didn’t burn as much as the whiskey, which could prove to be very dangerous if too much was consumed. 

You both sat in silence for a couple minutes, sipping your identical beverages, enjoying each others company. You eventually let your eyes wander to scan his whole figure; his armor was painted with that shade of blue you’ve seen on other troopers who’ve hit on you in the past - the same ones that sat in a booth behind him in the corner. You noticed a couple times that they were all looking in your direction, so you assumed Kix was with them and they were only checking to see how their brother was doing. You continued to scan his armor, trying not to be too obvious. You weren’t sure how you didn’t notice it before, but he sported a familiar red insignia that was painted on his left pauldron. 

"So you're a medic, huh? Must be a rough job.” He looked up from his drink with a half smile, nodding with confirmation, followed by a sigh.

“Actually, it must not be too rough of a gig if you have time to maintain all that,” you chuckled, your hands waving over your head, gesturing to the patterns shaved on his own. 

“It’s not too much maintenance.” He laughed, “I have my brothers’ help.” You nodded with understanding with the grin still plastered on your face.

“You talkin’ about them over there?” You tilted your head in the direction behind Kix; he turned around and caught the eyes of his brothers in the booth behind him. You jokingly waved at them, one of them with a dark goatee waved right back with a big smile on his face. Before Kix could ask, “I noticed they kept looking over here, and you all have the same shade of blue painted on your armor. Took an educated guess.” 

Kix began to tell you a few short stories of things that happened while in the field. You sat back and listened, the alcohol warming your ears. Some of the events he reminisced on were happy, successful missions - he also told you of a few close calls and how he had to hold his brothers as the light left their eyes, because there was nothing more he could do for them. He eventually apologized for talking only about him, but you waved it off; you were genuinely interested in his war stories. You were too busy shutting down other soldiers’ advances towards you that you never really heard of what they go through. Tomorrow isn’t promised for these soldiers.

He downed the last of his drink, and excused himself to the ‘fresher, promising to be right back. “Don’t go anywhere.” He teased. You watched him walk away; he purposefully took the route that was further away from booth were his lads sat and drank. At this point, you were totally drawn to him - there was definitely no threat of you going anywhere. The way he carried himself, that sparkle in his eyes, his sense of humor, the way he was so much more genuine than any of the other clones that came your way... 

***

You absolutely were not expecting your night at 79′s to go in the direction that it did. 

You invited Kix back to your apartment - you never thought you’d be bringing a clone back to your place, but crazier things have happened. 

At 79′s, while he was in the ‘fresher, you decided what you wanted. When he sat back down, you told him just that. His reaction was sweet, “I’d like that very much.”

So, here you both are, making out by your front door, having just closed it behind you. You acted first, throwing yourself at him as soon as you locked the door. He in no way minded, but he eventually took control and slammed you against the front door and let his hands trail all over you. You wished you could do the same, but he was still covered in all that damn plastoid. 

“Kix? Do you think you can take all this off?” Knocking on his armored chest like it was a door, you broke from his mouth, batting your eyelashes at him, hot breaths mingling with one another. He quickly obliged, and shed the plastoid pieces in no time, tossing them haphazardly to the left. 

Your mouths met again. Kix started licking along your bottom lip, requesting access inside your hot mouth. You gladly let him in, your breaths turned into quiet moans quicker than you could stop them. He tasted like your favorite whiskey; the taste somehow adding to your arousal and made you wetter than you were before. You had first felt the arousal flood to your lower half in the cab ride on the way to your place, when Kix’s gloved hand gently grazed along your thigh. The dress you were wearing had ridden up when you slid into the seat, but you didn’t bother fixing it. He wasn’t even looking at you; he was looking out the cab’s dusty window at all the nightlife Coruscant had to offer as the cab whisked along. His fingers tickled along your exposed skin, dancing over the goosebumps that had formed. Him not looking at you while he teased you sent warmth all throughout your body - a different warmth than what you were already feeling from the whiskey and whatever drink he was drinking.

Eventually you both had moved from leaning against the front door and clumsily meandered over to the sofa. You pushed him down to sit on the sofa and stood over him; noting how dark his eyes had gotten, taking over the sparkle that had drawn you to him in the first place. His dark cheeks were flushed, lips slightly swollen. He was quite the sight. He was so... pretty. 

“What are you lookin’ at?” He raised a quizzical brow and flashed a cheesy grin; you realized you were just standing there staring at him silently. Just as you felt a blush come on your face, his hands shot up to grab at your hips, pulling you down on top of him. You were never really were a graceful person, so you sort of tripped on nothing as he pulled you towards him. That earned a laugh from him, but it was a sincere one - he wasn't making fun of you, that much you knew.

You were straddled on his lap at this point, knees pressed into the sofa on either side of him. The kisses you shared were tender... not at all how your other hookups kissed you. His palms - now bare - rested on your lower back as he applied a small amount of pressure, effectively pushing you closer into him. Your hands rested on his pauldron-less shoulders.

You were comfortable with him, and you had only just met him a couple hours ago. 

And though you were enjoying his tender kisses and warm hands resting still on your back, you were hungry for more. Taking matters in your own hands to speed things up, you broke away from his mouth and lifted off him slightly to slide your dress up and over your head, tossing it off to the side out of sight. You nestled back down on top of him when you finally realized how hard he was underneath his skin-tight under-armor pants. You gave your hips an experimental wiggle across his clothed member, his head tilted back with shut eyes, and the deep moan he conjured up his chest set off fireworks in your gut.

You reached for the hem of his shirt, motioning for him to shed his clothing as well. His undershirt flew off in one swift motion and joined your dress somewhere across your tiny apartment. With a smirk, you leaned back a little to get access to the waistband of his pants. Kix lifted his hips and helped to slide his pants down, underwear coming off with them. His fully-erect cock sprang free, smacking gently against the happy trail below his naval. 

“Fuck, Kix.” You gawked at him. “Are all you clones like this? I can’t believe I spent all that time shooing away your brothers when I could’ve had th-” You yelped as you were cut off when Kix jolted up, taking you with him. Your legs wrapped around his hips tightly, arms snug around his neck in fear of falling. 

Kix laughed, walking you over to your bedroom. He sat you down at the foot of your bed. “Lay back.”

Butterflies flew around in your stomach because you could only imagine what was going to happen next. You lay back with your legs hanging off the foot of the bed, waiting anxiously for his next move.

“You know...” he started, his fingertips ghosting around the band of your underwear, “I have quite the extensive knowledge when it comes to the human body - being medically trained, and all.” He took his time sliding your underwear down; you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his movements. He was crouched down in between your dangling legs with a huge smirk on his face.

The butterflies flew away, and the fireworks returned. Your entire lower half was on fire. 

You watched Kix closely as his lips ghosted along your inner thigh, starting at your knee and slowly making his way up to where you absolutely needed him most. His eyes flickered up to meet your gaze, letting out a quiet chuckle as he nipped the thin skin of your inner thigh. His hands trailed up your thighs and then to your waist, blatantly going around your exposed heat. 

His mouth went to your other thigh, kissing his way up, starting at your knee. “I know all the pressure points in the human body...” *kiss* “I know where all the sensitive spots are on a woman...” *kiss* He was finally getting to where you needed him. It was too much to keep yourself propped on your elbows, so you laid back down as he chuckled against your sensitive and flushed skin. His kisses were slow and agonizing, but he was making progress. He was going up and up, closer and closer -

“I know that I can get you to scream.” That was it. His hot breath was right there. You needed him now. 

“Kix -” He cut you off for the second time tonight with his tongue, slowly licking a long stripe up your glistening lips to your clit. You yelped at the warm and wet muscle making contact at last, earning a low chuckle from the man who’s mouth was buried in your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves up your body.

“Holy f- fuck.” Your hand was gripping tightly at the sheets by your side, while you brought your other hand up to your mouth, shoving a knuckle inside in an attempt to muffle your moans. Kix kept up his brutal attack with his tongue, making out with your pussy the same way he made out with you on the couch - slow and passionate. 

You were unable to control the way your back arched up off the sheets. Kix’s hands moved from your thighs to your hips, long and dark fingers splayed over your stomach, pinning you down to keep you flat against the bed. His grip was bruising and you were for sure going to have marks there in the morning - that thought alone created a deep moan in your chest the escaped out your mouth before you could muffle it.

It was coming - you felt it, and you were sure he could sense it, too. You were completely unable to suppress your moans now; both your hands were occupied with clinging to the sheets for dear life. Your entire body was on fire when it hit you like a speeder. Thighs shaking on either side of him, your orgasm hit hard. You clamped your eyes shut and let it come over you, the white light bright behind your eyelids. Kix didn’t stop. He lapped you up through the entire thing, now adding in a single digit as he pumped it in and out of your clenching pussy, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud.

“Stars,” you managed to breathe out. It was impossible to come off from your high at this point as he added in a second digit, curing them up and hitting that sweet spot inside you. 

“What did I tell you?” He sounded all too cocky, but he was right. This soldier - this medic - knew what the fuck he was doing, and it was wrecking you. 

‘You taste so kriffin’ good and make the prettiest noises when you cum.” His tongue left your sensitive clit; his head left its place buried in your pussy so he could get a better look at your reactions. “I wanna see you...” He pumped his fingers faster, “Give me another.” The way his voice sounded sent you over the edge once again, your second orgasm hitting before you even came down all the way from your first. Your whimpers and groans were echoing in your small apartment, but you didn’t care. 

He removed his fingers and lifted them up to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. Fuck. You were trembling beneath him, watching him lick his fingers clean - that image alone made you moan. 

He was standing now, his cock in hand, locking eyes with yours. Your body was tired - oversensitive and shaky - but you knew the night wasn’t over, and you did not mind in the slightest. 

You watched him through hooded eyes, biting your lower lip as he stood at the edge of the bed slowly stroking himself. It almost looked like he was pondering what to do next - thinking about what exactly he wanted to do to you.

Seconds later, he grabbed your ankles and brought them back to meet the back on your thighs. You were nearly folded like a lawn chair when he met the edge of the bed as far as his legs could go, and teased your oversensitive cunt with the bulbous head of his cock. You let your head fall back and eyes close, waiting for him to push in, but he pauses. You yank your head back up and see him with his head tilted slightly to the side and a smile on his face.

“What is it?” You breathed out, wiggling your hips a little to the best of your ability, promoting him to proceed.

“Nothing. You’re just beautiful, that’s all.” You blushed and leaned your head back down to the bed. Not even a second later you were filled to the brim with one swift motion. Kix stilled again; this time when you shot your head back to look at him, his own was tilted back with his eyes clamped shut. Your heavy breaths were the only sound in the quiet room for the moment; he was letting you get adjusted to him while he relished in the way you felt around his cock.

Your ankles were still sat against the backs of your thighs; his hands came up to press into your shins as he slowly began to thrust. 

Slow, gentle thrusts quickly turned to hard and deep ones, his grip on your shins  transferred to bruising grips on your hips as he pounded you into the bed. The position he had you in gave his cock the ability to hit further inside you than you ever thought possible. You were a whimpering mess - completely at his mercy. Between grunts coming from Kix you were able to make out words like “tight” and “warm”. You couldn't focus on anything other than how he was pretty much splitting you open. 

You didn’t think you could cum as many times as you already had, but your third orgasm came out of nowhere, white hot and burning in your gut. To add liquid tibanna to the fire, Kix worked your clit with expert fingers as he coaxed you to give him “just one more.” 

Well, one more is what you gave him, because your fourth orgasm hit you just seconds after your third. You didn’t even know that was possible, yet here you were, completely wrecked by this soldier hammering in and out of you while working your oversensitive bundle of nerves with his fingers. 

The squelching sounds coming from his cock moving in and out of your very well-lubricated cunt made your face burn. Kix was close; his thrusts were becoming sloppy and losing their rhythm while his grunts were getting louder as your walls clenched unforgivingly around him.

He quickly pulled out, working himself with a shaky hand as he shot out his release. His sticky cum spurted in warm ropes, splattering on your lower stomach and the apex of your thighs. You couldn't help but smile up at him as his finished - not minding the mess he made all over you - noticing that the signature sparkle in his eyes returned as worked the last of his release from his spent, softening cock. Kix flopped down on the bed next to you; you both panted in unison, trying to catch your breaths. He turned his head to you and you turned your head to him, watching him as his chest movements became slower, returning to the steady rise and fall of normal breathing. He let out a long sigh followed by a smirk, his arms folded above his head.

“Stars. That was... was - ”

“Amazing,” you finished for him. He nodded in agreement, raising his hand to wipe a bead of sweat of your brow. “Some medical training you had there, Kix.”

It felt like an hour went by as you both came down from your highs, laying in silence. You sat up, nearly forgetting you were coated in his sticky release. You looked over your shoulder at him with a sheepish smile. Kix instantly shot up and stepped into the ‘fresher, coming back with a damp towel, “Allow me.” What a gentleman. You blushed at the sweet gesture - which, to be totally honest, seemed silly since he had just spit you open and completely wrecked you. 

After he had cleaned you up, you flopped back down on the bed, not putting the energy in to get dressed. Kix had his bottoms back on when he sat down on the bed next to you, his hand coming up to tuck loose hair behind your ears. You were completely lost in his kind eyes; you felt a ridiculous smile plastered on your face as you started into them.

“I’m a regular at 79′s y’know,” you informed him, your smile turning into a mischievous grin.

His one brow raised, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like I know where to find you, beautiful.”

***

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