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#other clones
tcwmatchmakingau · 9 months
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Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q
A Match for Mayday: Chapter 1
Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)
Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 
Rating: T
Wordcount: 2.2k
Warnings and tags: fluff
A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹
Read Chapter 2 here!
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Your sister has always had immaculate taste. From her gorgeous flat in a Coruscant high-rise, to the handsome trooper currently staring down at her with adoration in his soft brown eyes as she wraps her arm around his waist, to the selection of high-quality brews in the conservator which you are currently raiding, she has curated a beautiful life for herself. She’s been your best friend since the day she was born, and you couldn’t be happier for her. You didn’t have an easy childhood, and seeing your little sister settled and thriving is everything you had hoped for her during those difficult days. 
Her boyfriend—no, make that fiancé—practically worships her. As you watch them through the sliding glass door, you realize you’ve never seen her look as content as she does in that moment, smiling softly up at Hexx. Unbeknownst to you, an identical smile plays on your own lips as you close the conservator door. Just as you do, a latecomer enters the kitchen, and you turn automatically to greet him, your eyes widening as you take him in. 
He’s a clone, but damn, what a clone. He looks older than Hexx and most of his brothers, though that might be due to his beard and longer hair. He’s tall and solidly built, and even in civilian clothing, he looks imposing. His long sleeves are rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle, with a hint of tattoo ink peeking from the edge of the fabric.
“Hello,” you greet him, that soft smile still in place as you introduce yourself.
“Mayday,” he replies, and his voice is deeper and and more gravelly than you’ve heard from other clones. “Pleasure to meet you.” 
Up close, you can see faint lines around his eyes, and a sprinkle of silver in his hair. Definitely older than Hexx, then. 
“Can I get you a beer?” you offer. “Or are you a whiskey man?”
“A beer sounds great, thanks,” he says, and you hand him the cold bottle you just pulled out of the conservator. His fingers brush against yours, soft and warm, and his eyes follow you as you turn to pull another bottle out of the conservator. “How do you know Hexx and Sunni?”
“Sunni is my sister,” you reply.
“I thought I saw the resemblance,” he says. “Why aren’t you out partying with the others?”
“Just came in for a drink,” you reply. He arches an eyebrow, and you buckle immediately under his unspoken interrogation. “And to hide for a few minutes.”
“Now, why would you want to hide?” he asks, tapping his bottle against yours and taking a long sip.
You shrug. “Not a huge fan of crowds. They make me nervous.”
“You must hate living on Coruscant, then,” he says.
“I would if I lived here,” you reply.
“You’re not local?” he asks, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining the hint of regret in his tone.
“No, I live on Nakadia,” you reply. “I’m only on Corrie for the engagement party.”
“Nakadia?” he asks. “Then you must be the farmer.”
“Yes, I own a flower farm there,” you reply. “How did you know?”
“Hexx told me they were having the wedding at your farm. You’re a brave woman to agree to host that many clones for a party,” he says with a charming smile.
“I’d do anything for Sunni,” you reply. “But I have to admit it’s weird to think that she’s getting married when I still see the adorable little girl with fluffy hair and a face covered in jelly when I look at her.”
“I know the feeling,” Mayday says with an ironic twist of his mouth. “We do what we can for them, but in the end, we have to trust them to know what they’re doing.”
“Hexx seems like a good man,” you say tentatively. “And he makes her happy.”
“Have you known him long?” he asks.
“I’d only spoken to him on holocalls until I got to Corrie three days ago,” you reply. “What about you? Did you serve with him?”
Mayday nods. “I’m his commanding officer, at least for the moment. I can tell you that there’s not a more loyal soldier in the GAR. He’ll take good care of your sister.”
“When you say ‘for the moment,’ what does that mean? Is he being reassigned?” you ask curiously. Sunni hadn’t mentioned it.
“Not to my knowledge,” he replies. “But I am retiring.”
He seems too young to be retiring, but there is a weariness about his eyes that makes you think he’s earned it.
“What will you do then?” you ask, relaxing back against the countertop.
Mayday mimics your laid-back posture, leaning against the wall as he answers. “Haven’t decided yet. I might just spend some time enjoying being the only person in charge of my time.”
“You’re not going to rush down to RTL to find the love of your life?” you ask, a teasing light springing into your eyes.
“Nah, not for me,” he replies. “I’d prefer to meet somebody organically.”
“Understandable,” you reply. “Though it certainly worked out well for Sunni and Hexx.”
“And what about you?” he asks.
“What about me?” You take a sip of beer and enjoy its icy effervescence on your tongue.
“Any plans to visit the matchmaker?”
“I’m not really interested,” you admit.
Mayday nods slightly, his eyes unreadable. “So you’re taken, then?”
The door slides open abruptly, and Sunni bursts in like the force of nature that she truly is, tugging Hexx behind her.
“Are you hiding in here?” she demands with an infectious laugh. 
“Of course not!” you lie with dignity. “I was entertaining your guest.”
“Welcome, Commander,” Hexx says, subtly standing at attention.
“Relax, Hexx. You don’t need to salute me at your own engagement party,” Mayday says with that easy, charming smile.
Hexx and Sunni sweep you back outside to join the rest of the party goers before you get a chance to tell Mayday that you are very single.
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Months pass before you see Mayday again. Sunni is swept up in wedding plans, and you head back to Nakadia to tend to your farm. There’s plenty to do, between your normal responsibilities and the additional work of getting the property ready to host a large wedding. If you think Sunni is a social butterfly, she pales in comparison to Hexx and his multitude of brothers. Sunni is going to have the largest family-in-law in the galaxy, and it seems like half the GAR will be attending the wedding, along with their plus-ones, most of whom had met through Right to Love Matchmaking. Several of the matchmakers are also invited, and you hope they aren’t so dedicated to their work that they will harass you to sign up for their services. 
A few weeks before the wedding, Sunni and Hexx arrive with a large contingent of clones to help with the labor of getting the farm ready for such a large gathering. Veetch is there, of course, along with numerous members of the 77th Heavy Brigade. 
And, of course, Mayday is there. 
It takes an unbelievable amount of work to get the farm ready, but given that Hexx has quite literally brought a small army to help, it goes faster than you expect. The entire first day is spent clearing brush to make space for the large pavilion where the reception will take place. It is dirty, sweaty, backbreaking work, even with the help of the droids. You are exhausted at the end of the day, and after taking a quick shower, you make your way out to the front porch to watch the sunset. It’s your favorite vantage point, and it’s a nightly ritual that you almost never miss.
Tonight, though, someone has already claimed your spot. His tall, broad form leans casually against the pillar as he surveys your lovely farm. In the golden light of early sunset, you pick up the glints of lighter brown and gold in his dark hair, and for an instant, you wonder what it would feel like to twine your fingers through it. On impulse, you stop in the kitchen and pull two bottles of ale out of your conservator. You join him and offer him a bottle wordlessly. He nods his thanks and goes back to staring out at the kaleidoscopic fields of flowers. 
You didn’t see much of him today. He has been busy working on a special project in the barn, and his sleeves are littered with a fine layer of wood shavings. Your knees creak a little as you lower yourself to sit on the porch step, and soon he joins you. 
“Nice place you have here,” he says at last, breaking the evening serenity. “Peaceful.”
“That’s what drew me here,” you reply.
He looks at you curiously. “Trying to avoid crowds?”
You nod, not wanting to spoil the tranquility of the moment by delving into your personal history. “It’s a good place to live a quiet life.”
“That sounds…” he begins, but he trails off. 
His eyes have a faraway expression, and you wonder what horrors he’s seen to make him look so karking tired. He doesn’t continue, and you don’t prod him. Instead, you quietly watch the sun paint the sky in a wash of pastel. As the light fades and the dusk creeps in, you exchange occasional desultory remarks, but mostly you sit in companionable silence, drinking slowly and simply enjoying each other’s nearness.
“It’s a good place for a wedding,” he observes.
“Yes, I always thought if I ever got married, it would be here.” You smile. “I wouldn’t want the big party, though. Just a few people. Sunni and Hexx, a few close friends. A simple ceremony, and then a cozy dinner party under those trees,” you say, gesturing at the nearby copse of acthorn trees.
“You’ve thought it out,” he observes.
You let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. “Kind of hard not to with everything going on.”
“That’s fair,” he says. “I never thought much about weddings. Didn’t think it would be a possibility.”
“Is this the first you’ve been to?” you ask curiously.
He shakes his head. “The matchmakers have been busy. Half of the commanders have paired up, and the other half are just waiting for their turn.”
“But not you?”
He shrugs. “Can’t say I ever thought much about the war ending, until it did. By then, it seemed a little late to start planning a life I never thought I’d have.”
You frown. “It’s not too late. You’ve earned that life, Mayday.”
“Maybe,” he acknowledges. “But I won’t find it on a speed date.”
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He’s waiting for you the next night, too, and the one after. Each evening, you open up more to him, and the two of you spend hours conversing in low voices late into the night.
“How many kinds of flowers do you grow?” he asks as he looks out across the vibrant patchwork of blossoms that stretches to the edge of your farm.
“Hundreds,” you reply. “Not all at once. I stagger the plantings to extend the growing season and keep the income a little more predictable.”
“Which ones are your favorite?”
“Fire lilies,” you reply. “They’re unpopular with buyers, but I still grow a patch of them just for myself.”
“I’ve never seen one,” he says.
“Would you like to?”
“Very much,” he replies.
You stand slowly. You’re accustomed to hard work, but the past few days have been a whole other level of manual labor. A tiny moan of relief escapes you as you stretch your tired muscles. When you turn to Mayday, he is watching you with an indecipherable expression. He’s very good at that, you’ve noticed. Sometimes he is very open and easy to read, and others he is incredibly guarded. He must be an excellent sabbac player, you reflect.
With a small smile at the thought, you lead him through the twilight into the garden. In the fading purple light, the lush perfume of the lilies surrounds you in a sweet, heady cloud.
“May I pick one?” he asks.
“Of course,” you reply. 
Most people don’t bother to ask, and you never realized how much it bothered you until Mayday’s courtesy reminds you that you have a right to say no. He plucks a blossom carefully, reverently, making sure not to damage the rest of the plant. 
“They’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “I can see why they’re your favorite. Why don’t buyers like them?”
“They don’t last long once they’re picked,” you reply. “It makes transporting them tricky.”
“Then I’m sorry I picked this one,” he says.
“Don’t be,” you reply. “There will be more tomorrow.”
The sun has fully set now, and his dark eyes reflect the pale light of the moons. He examines the blossom closely, taking in the graceful curves of the petals, the striations and speckles at the center, the delicate filaments of the stamens. His eyes rise to your face, and his hands follow nearly unconsciously. His knuckles brush subtly against your cheek as he tucks the flower into your hair. Your mouth suddenly feels very dry, and you swallow without meaning to.
“Beautiful,” he repeats.
---
Read Chapter 2 here!
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Clones as muppets
Couldn’t sleep so here’s what I think the clones would be as muppets. I chose clones arbitrarily so if I missed your favorite, oopsie it’s 2AM and I tried my best. Eat up kiddies!
Fox- Miss Piggy (I can’t unsee it. It’s just 👌 perfect casting)
Bly- Camilla the chicken
Rex- Fozzie bear (esp with Cody as Kermit. Dynamic duo right there)
Cody- Kermit (I don’t mean for this to be like Cody/fox like I’m just going off character vibessss but like you do you boo.)
Wolffe- Animal (duh)
Echo and Fives- Stanton and Waldorf (I think it’d be funny)
Hardcase- Pepé the king prawn (come on, I’m right)
Boil- Rizzo the rat
Waxer- Professor honeydew (while a rizzo and gonzo duo would make more sense, Waxer is no Gonzo, while Boil is Very Much Rizzo)
Gregor- Gonzo (I will fight over this. Gregor is Gonzo, Gonzo is Gregor. They are One)
Ponds- Rowlf
Dogma- Sam Eagle (duhhhhh)
Wrecker- Sweetums
Thorn- Janice
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rejectsoftherejects · 2 years
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WOOOOO NEW CLONE JUST DROPPED!!!!
(cw eyestrain/bright colours)
Name: RGB
Gender: Boy (he/they/it)
Age: Adult
Size: Normal (5”6)
Clone DNA: Edd
Abnormalities: Personality, Appearance, Vocabulary (?)
Appearance: attached below (splred for bright colours)
Background: Brandless energy drink got in it’s brain and fried it oops :P
Extra: never takes headphones off, can barely hear as result, pika tail is optional, bad spelling galore
Relationships: none
Insp: a butt ton of S3RL songs (Pika Girl specifically), Häschenparty, 2016-2018 roblox avatars, scene kid stuff in general
they was forced to eat cement when he was four
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Made by @squism
New clone for u thirsty askers
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pantakichi · 2 years
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MY BOI TATTLE
THEY ARE OPEN FOR ASKS ON MY BLOG AND WHEN OPEN @ask-the-64-rejects BLOG AS WELL
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that-dumb-dinosaur · 8 months
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look me in the eye and tell me this isn't one of the coolest shots in any star wars tv episode. and don't even get me started on when his voice overlapped with Vader's-
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bluerosefox · 5 months
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Uncle Damian Mode ACTIVATE
Twins Danny and Damian but! They both know where the other is (Damian going to Bruce and Danny being sent to the Fentons on a mission at a young age), has kept in touch and all that.
They just...never got around to telling anyone about the other.
That is until Danny comes interrupting Damian on patrol one night in a panic, pushes a bundle into his arms and hurriedly says "Read our texts! It'll explain! I gotta go, got a fruitloop on my tail! Be back when I can!"
And rushes off. When Damian looks down at the bundle in his arm, ignoring the yelling on comms and Nightwing rushing over, he is stunned to see a almost identical face to that of his brother staring back at him, only he can tell its female from the more delicate features.
When he later reads the texts his brother sent during his patrol... well he's tempted to go fruitloop hunting but he has a niece to take of... and inform his father of his granddaughter he's currently holding.
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ominouspuff · 2 months
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Fwoom (intimidatingly)
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red-raven-reading · 2 months
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What is it about Obi-Wan Kenobi that makes everyone think: 'I've got to choke this b*tch.' ???
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sanshinexx · 4 months
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In a world where Fives survived
[More incorrect quotes and fanart here]
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tcwmatchmakingau · 9 months
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Commander Mayday illustration by @nika6q
A Match for Mayday: Chapter 3
Editor's note: This fic is a collaboration between @nika6q (artwork) and @dystopicjumpsuit (story)
Pairing: Mayday x Flower Farmer Reader 
Rating: M (18+ Minors DNI)
Wordcount: 2.4k
Warnings and tags: fluff; mild angst; sensuality; smut; fingering; it is not actually impossible for DJ to write a SFW story, but it does cause hives
A/N: dedicated to @nika6q ❤️‍🩹
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4
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“Gorgeous,” Sunni declares with a flourish as she steers you toward her mirror.
“I’m not sure why you’re going to this much effort on me when you’re supposed to be the center of attention,” you point out as you turn obediently.
“Because you deserve a little pampering, and you never have an excuse to get dressed up on Nakadia,” Sunni replies. “What do you think?”
You examine your reflection, taking in the artfully arranged hair, the perfect makeup, and the dress that displays a tasteful amount of skin while concealing all the things you prefer to keep to yourself.
“You’re a magician,” you reply frankly. “I can’t remember the last time I took so long to get ready.”
One of the bridesmaids, Tarsi, flops down on the bed and takes a sip of sparkling wine as she declares, “Nothing wrong with a little self-indulgence every now and then. Everything in moderation, including moderation, am I right, ladies?”
The other two bridesmaids chorus their agreement from the adjoining room, and you smile. Unsurprisingly, Sunni has a delightful group of friends, and they’ve made the week leading up to the wedding far more fun and  relaxed than you expected. Tarsi does have a bad habit of trying to talk you into signing up for RTL, though; she’s so proud of her success with Hexx and Sunni that she’s determined to find a match for every one of her friends.
“You’re beautiful, kind, successful, and you live on the most idyllic planet in the galaxy,” she declares. “Troopers will be lining up around the block to meet you. How do you feel about children?”
“I’ll pass,” you say firmly.
“On the children or the troopers?”
“Both,” you reply.
Tarsi pouts but lets it go. Meanwhile, the other two bridesmaids, Brax and Mione, burst into the room carrying a round of raava shots.
“Pregame!” Brax announces. “Everybody grab a shot.”
“Oh, no!” you laugh. “I’m the designated drunk-herder tonight. It is my responsibility to make sure you all make it onto the charter shuttle to Nakadia at the end of the night so this wedding can actually happen. I need to keep a clear head.”
“One shot isn’t going to do anything,” Sunni declares. “As bride, I hereby absolve you of all responsibility if I’m late to my own wedding. Now take the shot.”
You roll your eyes in good-humored exasperation, and you all toss back the raava, reactions ranging from Tarsi’s delicate cringe to Brax’s exaggerated sputter.
“Well, that was awful,” Sunni coughs. “Shall we get this party started?”
The group makes its way through several bars and dance clubs in Coruscant’s mid-levels, each successively louder and more crowded, before heading to a place that is apparently well-known to Sunni and her friends. As the five of you pile out of the air-taxi onto the landing platform, a gigantic sign reading 79’s bathes you all in a neon haze. There are an unusually high number of clones milling about outside the club, but Sunni and the others head straight for the entrance, throwing open the doors dramatically.
“Gentlemen, I have arrived!” Sunni announces with a confident swagger born partly of inebriation and partly of her own innate love of a spectacular entrance.
From inside the club, a cacophony of male voices lets out a deafening cheer interspersed with a few whistles and catcalls. Not for the first time of the night, you wish that you were getting as lit up as the rest of the group, because from the sound of things, you are about to head into exactly the kind of crowded, chaotic environment that seems perfectly designed to trigger your panic response. Right about now, you would kill for some liquid courage, but none is forthcoming, so you square your shoulders and walk into the club.
It’s crowded, smoky, and dark, and the music is loud enough to buzz across your skin and throb in your chest. It is also packed with clones, all of whom look absolutely delighted to see your group.
“What is this place?” you call to Tarsi over the roar of the crowd.
“Clone bar!” she yells back. “Isn’t it great?”
“Great,” you parrot back with false enthusiasm.
Unsurprisingly, the bartender has already poured a round of shots for your group by the time you reach the bar, courtesy of some unknown patron. You know you shouldn’t drink yours, but it’s been hours since you had the raava shot, and you have a feeling you’re going to need it if you’re going to make it out of 79’s without going ballistic, so you toss it back quickly. Within seconds, all five of you are pulled onto the dancefloor, and at least two clones begin to grind on each of you. There are so many people, and your heart starts to race as the crowd presses against you. The lights flash disorientingly. It’s hot and sweaty and loud, and your cheeks are starting to cramp from the overly bright smile you’re trying to keep in place. 
You look over to Sunni and are surprised to see her dancing with Hexx. Veetch is plastered against Tarsi, along with a clone you don’t recognize. You can’t see Brax or Mione, because there are three farking clones grinding their dicks against you, and if you have to put up with this for another minute you are going to kriffing lose your shit!
Abruptly, a hand closes around your wrist and pulls you gently but firmly away from the sausage fest. A little space opens up around you, and you finally feel like you can breathe again. You turn to thank your rescuer, and your heart gives a hard, involuntary lurch when you recognize Mayday’s long, dark curls. He asks a question that you can’t hear over the music. You shake your head and point to your ears. He nods in understanding, and his eyes are so damned kind that you want to weep with relief.
Another strange clone starts to move toward you, but Mayday fixes him with a stare that has him putting up his hands and backing away. You don’t want to leave the dancefloor and abandon Sunni and the others, but you’re not sure how you’re going to be able to stay, either. Mayday moves closer and rests his hands on your hips. You glance up at him, startled. He gives you a reassuring smile and starts to move your body to the rhythm of the music.
“I thought you didn’t dance!” you try to say over the music, but he shakes his head to indicate he can’t hear you, either. 
Instead, he pulls you closer to himself and oh, Maker. He does dance. He’s a really kriffing good dancer. He moves with a sinuous grace that has your mind racing with the possibilities of what else he can do with moves like that. And while his hands stay well within respectful boundaries, they leave a trail of blazing heat as they move across your body. 
You war with yourself. Mayday has you dizzy and off-balance. One moment he’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the galaxy, and the next he’s telling you not to touch him. But now he’s caressing your waist and hips like he never wants to stop, and he’s shielding you with his body, and he’s keeping you safe in the midst of the crowd. It’s a heady experience, to be at the center of that intense focus. Eventually, you stop thinking and simply let go and exist in the moment.
You lose track of time, of place, of people—it all fades into the background, and all you can see is Mayday. The way he touches you, moves you, guides you through the dance. He turns you so your back is to him, and you lean against his strong body, your hips swaying against his. You raise one hand over your shoulder to tangle in his hair, and you feel the heat of his breath against your wrist. His fingers trail over your arm, lighting up the nerves and sending tingles racing through you. And then his mouth descends onto your bare shoulder, his beard teasing your sensitive skin as he works his way up the side of your neck. Your knees nearly buckle at the sensation, but somehow you hold onto both your balance and your dignity.
You are shocked when the bartender announces the last call. How has the time passed so quickly? You’ve been so wrapped up in Mayday that you didn’t even notice as the crowd began to thin, and now it is time to round up the rest of the wedding party and head to the spaceport, where the luxurious private shuttle Sunni has chartered awaited your arrival. You and Mayday are the only reasonably sober members of the group, and so you coordinate with him to hustle everyone into two air taxis.
It’s a loud and raucous trip to the spaceport, but eventually, you bundle Sunni and the others onto the shuttle and perform one last headcount before Mayday signals the pilot to depart. It takes a significant amount of time and effort, but eventually, everyone aboard makes it to their assigned quarters, and you retreat to the shuttle’s opulent lounge to decompress and have a well-deserved drink. 
You stop short when you enter the room and find Mayday already inside. You flirt with the idea of fleeing, of going straight to your quarters and trying to get some sleep on the long jump to Nakadia, but it’s too late. He’s already spotted you, and you can’t avoid him without being openly rude. 
“I’d forgotten how exhausting it is to wrangle drunk people,” you say as you enter the room. 
“Mmm,” Mayday agrees with a rumble. “Makes fighting the war look easy.”
“No, it doesn’t,” you reply.
He smiles. “You’re right. Want a glass?”
“I think we’ve earned it,” you reply, settling into an armchair as he pours two tumblers of liquor out of a mysterious decanter.
The tawny liquid catches the light as he hands you a glass, reminding you of his eyes. You sniff it curiously and are greeted with a sweet, smoky aroma.
“I knew you were a whiskey man,” you say as you clink your glass quietly against his and take a sip. 
“I don’t usually turn down a free drink,” Mayday replies. “That doesn’t mean I don’t know the good stuff when I see it.”
You regard him steadily before you ask, “Is that so?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, his eyes guarded.
“I can’t figure you out, Mayday,” you say. 
At least he doesn’t insult you by pretending to misunderstand. He watches you for a moment, and when you don’t flinch under his scrutiny, he takes another drink of his whiskey.
“I told you I don’t play games,” he says.
“You could have fooled me,” you retort.
“You’re with someone else,” he says in a low voice. He sets his jaw firmly, but his eyes flicker over your body, and for an instant, you see a flash of naked hunger in them. “I’m not going to chase after someone who’s unavailable.”
What the kark? Your eyebrows snap together. “Is that why you couldn’t keep your hands off me tonight? Why every time we’re in the same room, you look at me like—like that?”
“Why the kriff do you think I was avoiding you?” he growls. “When I’m with you, I can’t think straight. I am trying to respect your relationship, but fuck, you drive me wild.”
You let out a short, angry laugh and drain your glass. “You think I would dance with you like that when I was with someone else? I didn’t realize you had such a poor opinion of me.”
“You said you were taken. You—” he pauses as though the words choke him with their bitterness. “You planned your wedding.”
“That was hypothetical!” You set your glass down with a snap as you rise abruptly. “I’m going to bed. Alone. Like I do every night. Which you should have realized when you spent a week in my house.”
“We’re not finished,” Mayday says, rising to block your exit.
“There’s nothing else to say,” you snap.
“What the kark did you expect me to do?” he demands. “I met the girl of my dreams, and two seconds later she told me she wasn’t interested.”
“I said I wasn’t interested in RTL!” you exclaim. “A matchmaker sounds like my worst nightmare. Although at least it would have prevented this level of absolute banthashit.” 
“Then—” he begins.
“For kark’s sake, how much clearer can I possibly be?” you cut him off. “Do I need to hang up a neon sign that says OPEN FOR BUSINESS? Do you want me to send you a handwritten letter? ‘Dear Mayday, please tear off all my clothes and have your way with me on the nearest available surf—mmph!’”
Mayday’s mouth cuts off your tirade. His lips crash against yours, his tongue sweeps into your mouth, his hands pull you close against him. He tastes like whiskey, and he smells like woodsmoke and spices, overwhelming your senses. You clutch his shoulders for balance, and then immediately slide your hands up his neck to twine your fingers through his hair. You tug on it gently, and he groans into your mouth in response. His arms tighten around you, pinning you to him as he grips your ass and grinds his hips against you. You let out a strangled moan as you feel the hardness of his cock press against your abdomen.
“This karking dress,” he rasps, breaking away from your kiss for a moment as his fingers find your hemline and snake up the inside of your bare thigh. “Did you wear it just to torture me?”
You open your mouth to respond, but he preempts your response with another breathtaking kiss. He slips past the lace of your panties—thank the Force I wore pretty ones—and glides his fingertips over your heated skin. His hands are as clever and talented as you knew they would be, and a fresh wave of irritation hits you. You tug his hair lightly as you pull away from his kiss.
“I’m still mad at you!” you exclaim. “We could have been doing this for weeks, oooh—”
He slides one of those thick, skilled fingers into you as he drops his mouth to your throat.
“I’m planning on doing it a lot longer than that, mesh’la.”
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pbnmj · 1 year
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it’s important to me that peter and co always have their bank accounts in the negatives . like it is fundamental that spider-man is broke
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rejectsoftherejects · 2 years
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NEW CLONE WOOOOOOOO
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Name: Printer
Gender: Nonbinary (they/it)
Age: Child
Size: Normal (for pony size, 54 inches)
Clone DNA: Matt
Abnormalities: Appearance, heterochromia
Appearance: attached below
Background: a thirfted dvd got into the machine
Extra: cant talk, cause ponies cant talk
Relationships: none
Insp: tbh autism creature
Made by @squism
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pantakichi · 2 years
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Blett
Matt clone inspired by @lynxthecrazy
Matt clone that goes blep that's it lmao
The name is a combo of matt bat and blep xd
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cobaltbeam · 2 months
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u got something on your face there buddy-
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hayden-christensen · 1 month
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Will I ever see you again?
STAR WARS: EPISODE I - THE PHANTOM MENACE (1999) STAR WARS: EPISODE II - ATTACK OF THE CLONES (2002)
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bluerosefox · 1 month
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Family Resemblance
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I
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I had another 11pm brain worm.
Enjoy
-x-x-
Daniel Wayne, the younger toddler brother of Bruce Wayne and the son of Martha and Thomas Wayne had been kidnapped the night their parents were murdered.
Daniel had been snagged the moment their killer heard people headed to the alley and Bruce in his state of shock didn't realize it until it was far to late and could only scream in horror (from everything) as his baby brother is crying his name. (If you wanna make it even more heart wrenching, make it Danny's first time being able to say Bruce's name right and/or Bruce had said some mean things to Danny earlier after he accidentally broke something of Bruce's, something like 'I wish youd go away' or 'I never wanted a brother, you're such a bother!')
Bruce is being held by Alfred as some police officers are chasing down the Wayne's parents killer while some stay behind to see if they could do something.
Minutes turn to hours and as they wait, praying the police at least found Danny, Bruce is ridden with guilt. From his parents death to allowing his brother to be kidnapped.
Eventually the police return to give Alfred and Bruce the news. And it's not good.
The killer escaped and Danny was nowhere to be found.
And it would take many years before he would be found.
-x-x-
Bruce gets a call from Damian during school hours one day. When he answers he is greeted with Damian demanding him to get to the school and explain himself.
Confused Bruce asks what does he mean and Damian responds with
"The two new students in class today are the spitting images of you and I father! Either they are poorly created clones or you have more hidden blood children!"
-x-x-
Meanwhile the very students being discussed are calling up someone too
"Ellie? Dan? What's wrong? You better not have made too much chaos already, I just paid for the uniforms for that place."
"DAD! I THINK ANOTHER ONE OF THE FRUITLOOPS FAILED CLONES SOMEHOW SURVIVED!"
"What?"
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