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if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.

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you guys know that the reblog function is the main feature of this site right ? its that little recycle looking symbol at the bottom next to the like button, you can add a comment if you want you can write something in the tags that your followers and the op will see. its like the main feature of this site

im not trying to sound rude in saying this but i have had 5 people with completely empty blogs follow me in the last hour or so and like im sure that makes sense on instagram or something but here it just makes you look like a bot account here and people will block you under that assumption. go reblog a post you like. go reblog an image of a snail

I NEED A PART TWO!!! PLEASE!!!!!!

Same Heart, Same Blood

Character(s): Fives, Rex, Kix, Hevy's ghost

Summary: Fives' near-death experience after getting shot.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Character death, near-death experience, talking to dead people, coma, organ transplantation mention. (Lmk if I missed anything)

Word Count: 2k

Ao3 link

A/N: This goes along with my work Set to Stun, so if you haven't read that, I highly recommend you do!! This is all based on a late-night headcanon discussion, my being sick, and very little editing, so I hope it's not too rough. I also apologize for any medical inaccuracies. But hey, Star Wars medicine! Special thank you to @rexxdjarin for talking me through the organ transplant HC, and to @writingbylee for letting me use her bacta HCs!! You're both awesome!!

Same Heart, Same Blood

He was floating, oddly disconnected from his body but still trapped within its confines. His hearing was irritatingly muffled, and he could not tell up from down or left from right anymore. He was simply there.

Through the cottony filter, he could hear what sounded like Rex, but he could not tell what he was saying. The brash voice of General Skywalker was there, too, but it was quickly fading, replaced by another brother’s voice.

“Six… minu… nee… mo… him… ow…” said the distorted voice. “ves… kno…in…ther… Fi… ang… on.”

He barely felt a pinch in his neck before an ethereal coolness enveloped him, taking him deeper into the welcoming darkness. He let himself drift, unable to do anything to stop it, and was content that he had done all he could.

***

Fives opened his eyes but saw nothing. The inky blackness was all-consuming, but it did not cause him any alarm. There was no need for panic. The deep dark space was calm, tranquil, and welcoming in an odd way. He was no longer in any pain, and there was no danger, no war, and nothing left to fight for. Peace at last.

Was this where death had brought him?

Before he was done registering the question, he saw a wisp of the most beautiful blue glide in a ribbony trail past his vision. Another quickly followed on his other side, splitting through the dark like hyperspace trails. More and more streaked across his line of sight from all around him, and he tracked their movement until he realized they were leading him away from wherever he was.

Fives took an automatic step, not realizing he had been standing on anything at all, and joined the swirling colors in their dance to wherever they were headed. He could not tell how long he walked, for there seemed to be no concept of time at all, but the wisps soon blended and faded into a warm, misty glow. He had no name for the color of the space, but he could see movement in the distance beyond—a figure drawing closer.

“Hello?” he asked. His voice sounded like his own, but it was also more like an echo in his head.

The figure took shape and became more solid the closer it got, and Fives wondered why his heart was not beating through his chest. He knew them—the tattoo on his jaw was unmistakable.

“Hello, Vod.”

“Hevy!” Fives breathed, reaching out for his long-dead brother.

Hevy’s semi-corporeal form reached back, locking a hand around Fives’ neck and bringing their foreheads together. “You did good, Vod, but it’s not your time yet.”

“What?” Fives asked, feeling like he should have been shedding enough tears to fill Kamino’s oceans. The wisps around them started moving faster, becoming brighter, until they were whiter than Fives’ could bear to look at directly. “You’re dead. So, am… am I?”

Hevy released him and gave him a gentle, familiar smile. “There are many things you still need to do.”

“Hevy, I-I don’t u-understand,” Fives stuttered, but the hand on the back of his neck gripped him more firmly.

“You will. Just listen for the echo.” Hevy removed his hand and suddenly began to fade into the bright wisps around them.

“Echo?” It was only then that Fives felt a surge of panic. Echo was dead. But why had Hevy come to him instead? “Hevy, wait! Where’s Echo?!”

Fives felt a hard tug behind his navel, pulling him into the bright light. “Where’s Echo?!” he kept calling. “Hevy!”

***

Beep… beep… beep…

Beep… beep… beep…

Beep… beep… beep…

It was a sharp, repetitive sound ringing in his ears every few moments. It was downright annoying. It was too bright now, pain shooting through his head.

Pain.

Once part of him had registered it, he became aware of it all at once. Every muscle, every limb, every inch of him down to his toes ached. He felt like he had been hit head-on by the Resolute jumping to lightspeed. His throat was dry, his lips hurt, his bones ached, and his lungs felt raw. He squeezed his eyes shut harder against the bright light, and even that hurt.

“…aking up,” said an urgent voice somewhere in the distance. “Contac… Rex…”

Fives groaned, realizing there was some kind of obstruction in his throat. He coughed against it, and it was quickly, albeit painfully, removed. As he slowly came around, blinking his crusty eyes furiously, he realized it was Kix hovering over him.

“Welcome back, brother,” Kix nearly laughed, smiling down at him. “Hang on, this will make you feel better.” He picked up a line and injected a generous amount of myobacta into it. “Thought we lost you there for a while, Vod.”

Fives tried to form the words he wanted to say, but he ended up in a hoarse coughing fit instead. Even as the bacta spread through his body, everything still ached.

“Easy, easy,” Kix soothed, elevating him into a reclined sitting position and adjusting the overhead light so it was not directly in Fives’ eyes. “You’ve been out for a few weeks, and you’ve got a new heart. It’s gonna take some time for you to fully recover. Just try to relax for me. I promise you’ll be all right.”

A new heart? Fives wondered. He lifted a weak hand to move the medical gown aside and looked down at his chest. There was a long, new scar over his sternum and a blotchy burn scar that was still sealed under a bacta patch on his left pec. No wonder everything hurts.

His thoughts were still disconnected and sluggish, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had known since he was a shiny that the bodies of fallen brothers were often recovered after battles, and their organs were harvested and put into stasis in case another clone needed a replacement organ. It had always made him feel like the Kaminoans had done that purposefully, just to reinforce how expendable they were. He had tried to own it all the same, recalling telling the cadets on Kamino they all had the “same heart, same blood.” It was one of his more poetically symbolic moments, and he remembered Echo saying it would make a good tattoo.

Even though the dark truth was hard to admit, and it made him angry that such a thing as harvesting organs from fallen clones would be necessary, he also knew it had probably saved hundreds, maybe thousands, of other clones’ lives over the years—now including his own.

“Hey, you listening to me?” Kix asked.

Fives nodded weakly, thankful that Kix had moved the unforgivingly bright light. He had to wonder what had happened to him, though, to warrant receiving another brother’s heart. Kix’s bedside manner was also never this good unless someone had really been through hell, but he did not have long to dwell on the thought before the door burst open.

Rex came surging through the door as if he had sprinted the length of the Military Complex parade deck at full speed without stopping. He looked a little worse for wear, sporting an expression that was somewhere between elation and relief, and a new pale scar on the side of his head.

“Fives!” he all but laughed. “You’re awake!”

Fives nodded again. Why did everyone keep saying that? He had never fallen asleep that he could remember. He was with Hevy, and before that…

It all came flooding back in a rush. He remembered the plot, warning Rex and the general, picking up his pistol and screaming in a panic, aiming it at the red-clad Corries sent to take him away. He had been shot. Commander Fox had shot him directly in the heart. He remembered the searing, burning pain as his heart had ceased to exist in his chest, reduced to carbon and ash from the plasma.

“Fives? Hey, talk to me,” Rex said, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder.

“He needs to rest up a bit. Here, drink a little of this if you can,” Kix said, bringing a straw to Fives’ chapped lips. When Fives did as he was told and made a scrunchy, disgusted face at the bitter taste, Kix chuckled. “Yeah, that’s the reaction I expected. He’ll be fine, Captain.”

***

Hours later, Rex had still not left Fives’ side, explaining at length what had happened. They had figured it out after all.

“You made me and Kix dig further into your warning, and we found out the truth about the chips in our heads,” Rex explained, pointing to the healing scar just past his right temple. “We uncovered a whole plot by the chancellor to destroy the Jedi Order, and we would’ve been his tools if you hadn’t tipped us off. The Jedi managed to remove him from power, and he was promptly executed.”

Fives had slowly regained his voice, but he still sounded like he had been screaming over blaster fire on the battlefield for too long. “Still can’t believe I got shot,” he snickered hoarsely. “Can’t say I blame Fox for doing his job, though.”

Rex’s lips pressed into a tight line and twitched at the corners into a tense smile. “It wasn’t his fault, Fives. He doesn't remember doing it.”

“What do you mean?”

“That was Palpatine, too. He’d been manipulating Fox’s chip like a test dummy for years. It caused him to have memory blackouts. Cody found records of it in a journal Palpatine kept while they were sorting through the intel after he was executed,” Rex explained.

Fives grimaced. Even fresh out of a coma, his blood boiled because of all the injustices and inhumanities every clone had endured, all for Palpatine's war. They were human, and they deserved to be treated like humans from the beginning, given rights and choices—not manipulated like programmed droids. “That’s fucked up.”

The captain nodded, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin on his clasped hands. “Actually, Fox said he wants to come visit you—as long as it’s all right with you. Says he wants to apologize and hopes you can forgive him. He’s been pretty beaten up over it.”

“Nothing to forgive. He can come anytime and I’ll tell him myself,” Fives said with a genuine smile. He could not help the wave of grief that swept over him, though. None of this should have happened to any of them. “I just wanted to do my duty, what was right.” Fives’ said sorrowfully. His already hoarse voice cracked. “For Tup, too. He didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”

Rex nodded solemnly in agreement. “But you saved us all, and Tup’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain. With Palpatine dead, peace talks have started all over the galaxy with fracturing Seppie worlds. The CIS is falling apart, but there are a few holdouts that keep fighting. I’m headed to Anaxes with Cody tomorrow. They are proving difficult to counter. It’s like they know our moves before we make them.”

Fives gave a cheeky smile, one that still showed all of the inner fire he still possessed. “I wish I could be there with you, sir.”

Rex squeezed Fives’ atrophied bicep reassuringly. “Don’t worry, there will be plenty of fights left for you once you’re better. Kix might actually skin me alive if I try to sneak you out.” He stood and gathered his bucket, chuckling with his vod before making for the door.

Tell him. Fives thought. He should know. “Rex?” he asked, causing the captain to pause. “I… I know this sounds crazy, but while I was out, I saw Hevy.”

“Your batchmate? The one who died on Rishi Station?”

“Yeah, him. He told me that it wasn’t my time yet, and… he told me to listen for the echo. That’s when I realized… wherever I was, wherever Hevy came from, Echo wasn’t there.”

Rex looked skeptical, furrowing his brow and eyeing Fives curiously. He had his suspicions about an afterlife, but after spending enough time around the Jedi, he had long decided nothing was too farfetched. “You think Echo may still be alive?”

“I don’t expect you to believe me. I’m not sure I entirely believe it myself,” Fives sighed, shaking his head. “But I just have a gut feeling, you know? Just do me a favor and… listen for him, I guess.”

The captain offered him a confident smirk and a nod. “I’ll keep my ears open.”

Reblog to drop jk rowling into an active volcano

I never thought I would be into pegging ...

I thought WRONG

DELICIOUS SCRUMPTIOUS GNAWING MY TEETH AMAZING

cw dubcon / puppy play / feminization / overstim

notes: fem reader, references Soap's ass with words like 'pussy' and 'cunt'

Kinktober Day 1: Pegging

Soap is the guy who doesn't claim to be a macho man outright, but his mouth can sometimes get carried away. Especially when he's drinking. You'd only been with him a few months but you knew his patterns- one scotch too much and he had you eye rolling every other sentence.

You don't remember how he got onto the topic, in a bar with your friends, but he does and fucking runs with it. "Ahm just saying, ahm no the kinda guy ta take it up the bum. Jes no natural."

You smack his ribs. "What!? ...Aw feck, I didnae mean that in a homophobic way, jes that it isnae me. No way ahd like it, guess ahm jes made for breedin that's all." His hand claps your ass, making you yelp. "No like ye, yer jes made fer takin it."

Your friends looked away, obviously uncomfortable. Your growl was lost to the bar music and you were left to seethe as your friends found a new topic to latch onto. Though it was a short moment for almost everyone involved, it remained fresh in your mind.

.

Weeks passed. Your birthday arrived. You’re in your pajamas still when Soap comes home from his morning run, the door shutting alerting you to his arrival. 

"Baaaaaaby?" You purr from the hallway outside your bedroom. Soap immediately came at your call, hands finding their place at your waist and pulling you close.

"Yes birthday girl?" His voice is warm as he nuzzled into your neck, making you giggle.

"You know how you said you'd do anything for me for my birthday?" He nods, not fully listening yet, mouthing at your sensitive skin below your ear. "...Did ya mean it sweetheart? Anything I want?"

"Mhmmmmm?"

You pulled yourself back, the playfully mean glint in your eye bringing Soap to attention. "...What are ye thinking?"

Tugging him by his forearms, you fight the urge to laugh as he takes a sharp inhale at the feeling of something hard beneath your skirt pressing against his thigh. His eyes dart between yours and your crotch area, his eyebrows knitting together.

"What are ye playing at?" He huffs an impatient breath when you grind against him purposefully, walking him back until he's pressed against a wall.

"You said it wasn't you. I disagree. I think you want it so bad it hurts, but you're too scared of seeming unmanly to ask for it." You stand on your tip toes to nibble at his ear, your voice growing huskier as you paw at his chest. "For my birthday, you're going to ask for my cock in your arse really prettylike, just for me. And then you’ll be a good boy and take it all."

For a split second, you think you've gone too far. The fears wilt when you notice the splotchy redness on his cheeks, the way you can feel his cock swelling in his jeans pressed up against you. He shook his head, but you knew better by then.

“No, no, no, puppy. You said whatever I wanted. You should be thanking me, wasting my birthday wish on something that’s going to only benefit you.” Hooking your fingers in the collar of his shirt, he made a startled noise as you twisted your hand and wrenched it forward, tugging him into your bedroom. 

The bed was made flawlessly, upon it was a towel and some lube laid out parallel on it like a surgical table. You’d been working out for weeks- core muscles stronger than ever. A flicker of annoyance crossed your mind, that Soap would think to say no considering how much time and effort you’d put into this. No matter, you were there to teach him a lesson. 

Wordlessly, you tug his clothes off. When he tried to get yours off too, you only swatted his hands away and gestured to the bed. His face was fully pink now, but he remained dutifully silent, his posture straight as if he were standing at attention just for you. Guided by your gentle hand, he laid himself on his back on your bed right on top of the towel, eyes rapt upon you looking for either feedback or further direction. Dragging your fingers down his chest to brush over a hard nipple, you relished in watching him shiver and flutter his lashes closed. 

“So pretty. My pretty puppy.”

Your fingers continued their path, Soap’s abs flexing as they tickled his stomach. Dragging a slow circle towards his crotch, fingers deliberately avoiding his cock. It took a lot of willpower on your part, especially when it was hard and drooling, clear slick pooling out of the red tip onto his lower belly. Without needing a cue, Soap’s legs fell open to allow you access, his hips adjusting upwards to see his hole. 

He was clenching, the muscle looking impenetrably tight- poor thing was embarrassed, shy, but you knew he needn’t be shy around you. You cooed exactly that to him as you reached your hand back up to his mouth, offering several fingers for him to suck. His big puppy eyes fixed on yours as he tongued at your fingers, carefully coating them in his spit. You nodded and smiled at him, the little nonverbal reassurance apparently giving him comfort. 

Despite how warm the spit felt on your fingers, Soap still whined about the chilly feeling of your fingers pressing on his hole. You ignored his complaining in favor of circling his hole, coating it in the supplied drool. Soap’s expression immediately became dazed, lost in the unfamiliar sensation. Starting with almost no pressure, you gently increased how much you pressed your fingers as you continued to make invisible little circles on the muscle. It was almost a minute before you felt him relax, Soap’s eyes shut and little surprised grunts escaping his parted lips. You didn’t press in further than dipping your fingertip in, waiting for Soap to get restless.

And get restless he did. Once he had grown accustomed to the feeling of your finger massaging the muscle in slow, predictable strokes, his heels dug into the bed and he tried pressing his hips down onto your fingers. 

“Ah, ah, ask, puppy. You aren’t so lost that you can’t use human words, are you?”

A whine, a keen, another pathetic attempt to push your finger in with a movement of his hips. 

“If you can’t use human words, you probably aren’t in the right headspace for this… I guess I’ll do another night…” You pulled your finger away, which had Soap’s eyes flying open. 

“Fuck, lass, do I really have to say it?” 

You leveled him with a stern look. 

He suddenly focused on a far corner of the room, avoiding your gaze while he mumbled something. You grasped him by his chin, forcing him to make eye contact. 

His bottom lip wobbled a little bit, and he had several false starts to his sentence before he apparently worked up the courage. “Please, can I have a finger inside me?” 

“What was that puppy? I didn’t hear that. Go on, speak.”

Praise would never be enough to describe the flood of warmth and pride and desire to tear this poor puppy to shreds that filled your chest. Words escaped you, so you opted to kiss him silly instead. 

“Good boy. That’s my good boy! Of course you can have a finger inside that pretty hole.”

You flicked open the bottle of lube and squirted a good dollop on your finger. By this point you were certain this was his first time, and you were determined for it to go without any issue. When you first poked your finger into him, you both moaned. Him at the foreign intrusion stretching him, you at the feeling of how warm he was. You had to tense your arm muscles to keep from plunging in all the way. Slowly, you pulled yourself back out about halfway, before pushing in slightly further. Slight pull out, push in further. Two steps forward, one step back. When you’re finally up to your knuckle, Soap has his head thrown back and he’s barely stifling how needy his noises had become.  

“Another one?”

He’s desperately agreeing, nodding his head frantically and stretching his legs apart further. You work in the next finger, and once that one is settled in next to the other you start feeling about inside him. Somehow, his blush is capable of deepening even further, which it did. When you found his prostate, you had the pleasure of watching Soap’s back arch in a way you’d never seen before. He cried out, the noise echoing in the room, and his hands fisted at the bedsheets. 

“Sweet Jesus, what the fuck was tha’?” He panted, looking at you with bleary eyes. 

You cocked your head to the side innocently. “What, this?” 

You rubbed at the spot again, gleefully watching one of Soap’s knees involuntarily jerk upward as he moaned like a common whore. This time you didn’t stop though, just kept applying pressure as Soap fought to keep still for you. His muscles all over were twitching, like you were triggering his fight or flight response. Of course like the obedient puppy he was, he stayed and took it all. 

“Silly puppy, didn’t you take basic anatomy? It’s your prostate. Could just milk you dry like this. I’ve seen it online before, they just stimulate the prostate over and over until your cock is just uselessly leaking cum- could make you addicted to feeling this, maybe never let you fuck my pussy again and just make you dependent on my touch for release. What do you think puppy?”

There were tears in his eyes, staring but not really seeing at the ceiling. Each breath was haggard, strained. 

“Wha’e’er ye want, I ken ye’ll take care o’ me. Please, fuck, just, please…” He trailed off. Blinking rapidly, he bent his neck to wipe his tears on the pillowcase beneath his head.

“Words, puppy,” You warn gently. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, but you let him. “Please, please, fuck me wi’ wha’e’er ye got under tha skirt, tha pretty skirt, fuck, please.”

You half hummed, half laughed at the desperation in his voice. All it did was make him whine again, new pretty tears collecting in his eyes and making his lashes clump together in pretty, dewy spikes. He makes a sad little questioning noise when you drag your finger out, his eyes on you again.

You don’t dignify him with an answer, figuring the reward would be sufficient. You finally climb up on the bed in front of Soap, his warm, hairy thighs bracketing you. Lifting your skirt, Soap strained his neck to look down at your now exposed toy, strapped to you by a leather contraption you had custom made by a local artist just for this. The toy was brand new too, a pretty powder blue thing that was just a slight bit thicker than Soap’s actual piece. It had subtle curves on it that gave it a handsome shape with a mushroom tip that you spread your lube on before jacking it down the length of the shaft. 

“I ought to make you suck this first, have you get it all nice and wet. I bet if you like things up your arse, you’d like to get face fucked too.” You make a show of it as you slick the toy down, slowly rocking your hips to fuck into your fist, the wet noises filling your ears. “I’d love to see you choking on it, gagging on it as you force yourself to take it all in your mouth- ahh, your throat- just for me. You’d look so pretty on your knees where you belong, don’t you think?” 

It’s like you commanded him to agree, the way he immediately nodded and whimpered in response. You adjusted your position and lined yourself up to Soap, pressing the tip against his hole. 

You don't even have to remind him this time. “Please, please, please, put it in me, fuck my arse now or I think I might die, fuck, I’ll- I’ll do anythin’-”

He’s shut up when the tip finally breaches his hole, the muscle stretching around the toy. Soap is left gasping, head thrown back once more. You lean forward to use a hand to pet at Soap’s hair, softly shushing him and reassuring him. Raining praise down on him like you never had before, watching him tighten down on the toy in response. You were patient as you worked your cock inside, again moving in little by little. Soap was the one trying to push further, faster, his needy hips bucking downwards.

“Look at that needy fuckin’ hole, sucking me in.” You took the high road and choose to wait to gloat about being right. “Such a pretty pussy for a pretty boy like you.”

The word alone had Soap wailing. You had intended for it to embarrass him, not have him arching his back again and desperately pulling at your shirt to get you in deeper. It was like that was the breaking point for the both of you, and your hands found the back of Soap’s knees just as your hips flicked backwards and then forward, driving the toy inside Soap right up to the hilt. 

You can barely see Soap’s cock spurting cum all over his stomach, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he writhed, impaled on your cock. You let him have it all, leaning back to watch his hole convulse around the toy as the aftershocks tore through Soap’s very being. 

When he settled, that was when you started thrusting. The first one was slow, experimental, had Soap crying out about how over sensitive he is. His dick growing soft, shrinking slowly, and the dumb puppy thought it was over just because he finished. Again, you ignored his wants and took. This was your birthday gift, you were going to savor it. Stretch it out as long as you could. 

“I cannae take it, please-”

“What did we learn today, puppy? That I’m always right, isn’t that right? That I know best, that I know better than you what you want and what you need?” Humbly, he nods with a little watery, regretful smile. “That’s right. And right now, I think your cunt needs a good pounding to remind her who she belongs to.” 

I don’t know why this never occurred to me until now. But Lucio’s real name, Montag, means Monday.

The man’s name is Monday.

No wonder everyone hates him.

When your cat is your one emotional crutch in the world and is keeping you from yeeting your soul off this plane of existence.

😼

😼

I lost it at the canned bread