#justsimplymeagain

[aziraphales-library]

Hi Everyone! Thank you all for all your work with this blog. I've been looking for some nsfw fics where Crowley learns that sex doesn't have to hurt!

Any recommendations?

Hello! Here are some fics where Crowley has had painful/bad sexual experiences and Aziraphale shows him how much better it can be. Mind the warnings on a lot of these, though!...

held and healing by blackeyedblonde (E)

“Do you need anything?” Aziraphale asks softly, only for the second time today. This is their dance, their routine, their tried and true merry-go-round of give and take. “Yeah,” Crowley grits out this time, sounding terribly raw when he does. “You.” (Crowley hurts, sometimes; Aziraphale wants to fix it, always.)

Unhidden by justsimplymeagain (NR)

There’s something to be said about letting barriers drop and be seen by someone you love and desire most.

A New Breadth of Things by artenon (E)

“Just part of the job description,” Crowley said, aiming for casual. “Never sought it out for pleasure.” Hadn’t thought he could find pleasure in it, not with all his other experiences with it. “I know it can be good,” he said. “I want to try and make it good, and you’re the only one I want to do it with.” -- Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley have ever had sex that they've wanted and enjoyed. But they know that it can be good, and they want very much to make it good for one another.

May I Hold Your Hand? by Davechicken (E)

Crowley does not like watching the lovey dovey bits of movies. Aziraphale finds out why. Aziraphale is not happy. Crowley is pleasantly surprised by how his angel responds.

What Is Owed, and What Is Given by KitCat_Italica (E)

Aziraphale looked at Crowley. Really looked at him. He was asking Aziraphale to help him try something new, something that might scare him no matter how much he wanted it. But even with that vulnerability, he was trusting Aziraphale with this. Trusting Aziraphale to catch him if he fell.

what i call life (what would you do?) by Vagabond (E)

Crowley lives a life of indentured servitude to Lucifer, a man who runs an escort and companion service. His life is one client after another, until a man named Aziraphale Fell hires him to be a companion at a sibling's wedding. Crowley had no idea that this chance encounter would put him on a path to freedom, and, just maybe, to finding love.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #adult omens #major archive warning #non con #mod d

[my-dessert]

I think this person deserves a shout out for two reasons. Being a huge good omens fan, and liking almost every single one of my posts.

@justsimplymeagain

Thank you for creeping me out.

#good omens #everytime i open my new notes your user is always there #i dont know if this is a threat or a compliment #but thank you for liking my dumbass ideas #please dont kill me or find my house adress #love you in a 'trying to make friends with you so i dont find you in my closet #kind of way

[thegreenfairy13]

How about 3 for the whump prompt 😊 although characters are up to you.

Prompt: ‘Give me one good reason I shouldn’t splatter your brains on the floor.’ Well...as I’ve been Birds of Prey lately, I fell down the Zsaszmask (Victor Zsasz x Roman Sionis) hole and wrote a fic about their first encounter.  I just love those two bastards! I hope you like it :)

Gotham’s Truths

Victor Zsasz always thought a first meeting says a lot about how a relationship is supposed to develop in the future. That firm belief turned out to be quite untrue when it comes to one Roman Sionis. 

But then what does was Victor know? Most people would argue their first and last meeting with the infamous killer coincides. 

That’s not to say those people wouldn’t leave a lasting impression - quite the contrary. But to leave an impression that isn’t quite as obvious, well, that honor had been up to Gotham’s newest candidate for the crown of the underbelly. 

But we’ll start at the beginning, kay? 

Motherfuckin fuckwit of a peacock, Victor thinks when first laying his eyes on the man currently dangling from the ceiling in some very private basement. 

He spits on the floor, visibly disappointed by today’s task, and cracks his knuckles. This will be over embarrassingly soon. One good look at Sionis, the Black Mask, as he loves to call himself, has told him everything he needs to know. 

The wanker is just pathetic! Who the fuck wears fuckin pastels? To a shoot-out of all things? An attempt to take down Sofia Gigante is not the fuckin Oscars. And if it were, Sionis would have earned himself a Razzy. 

But then Zsasz didn’t expect much from him in the first place. The pathetic lil shit will break down within seconds, of that he’s certain. Stupid, boarding-school wimp, that one is. He’s probably lost the moment he enters a room without a drink to hold onto. 

He spits out again, this time in disgust, and goes to work. Gigante wants Sionis to get sliced into tiny pieces and fed to her genetically modified koi-carps. No problemo! 

Victor starts setting out his tools one by one. The hammer comes first. It’s decorated with one or two dried blood-stains. 

He hates the blood, though. Personally, he prefers a clean, hygienic approach to work, yet his boss insists on some crude intimidation-techniques. Oh well, employee-protection isn’t something anyone gives much thought to in Gotham. The pincers are next, followed by a shiny, new set of scalpels. 

The other man is meanwhile still dangling from the ceiling, looking at Victor’s devices. At this point, the assassin expects something like a horrified gasp, maybe an occasional cry of ‘you don’t have to do this’, or - at least - a sob. 

What he gets, though, is a high-pitched whine. “Boooooooring”, Roman cries out, sounding like an annoyed little bitch about to find out her favorite lipstick is outta stock. 

Now, that’s not an unheard-of approach, however, definitely a more unique one. 

Turning around, Victor gives Roman a seemingly uninterested once-over. The other man rolls his eyes, and wiggling his upper body, he starts swinging as if he was on a playground. 

The bastard even has the audacity to yawn. 

Grinning ferociously, Victor decides he wants the smugness gone from the other one’s face. He raises his hammer, aims for the face, and finally elicits the cry he hoped for - unless in a decidedly different context. 

Roman swings swiftly outta the way, furiously screaming, ‘not my face, not my face’ like that one hysterical chick who walked in on Victor while delivering a message to her now late husband. 

“That face is worth more than all your ugly-ass teeth combined,” the man screeches, sounding every bit like an enraged banshee. “If I’m about to get murdered with a fuckin household-appliance, at least make sure that fuckin thing from the dollar store doesn’t come near my face.”

Roman glares down at Victor from below, which is in itself an achievement, not showing the slightest bit of fear, and yelling out orders. It’s so absurd the killer has to laugh. And not just that bemused bark he sometimes coughs out, no, an honest to God, pure, heartfelt roar that whips through his entire body. 

Tilting his head to the side, he decides he’ll indulge his victim and see what else it has to offer. Tossing the hammer aside, he picks up the scalpel. Roman only rolls his eyes at him. 

“What you gonna do?” he challenges. “Carve some patterns into my skin? Ask me some questions? Wait for me to cry and beg? Pah!” 

“Well, that’s how those things usually work,” Victor confirms sensibly. He bends down until he’s at eye level with his prey, checking for those sweet, sweet signs of distress. Inhaling, he expects to smell that sour, musky scent of sweat that always indicates the beginning of his fun. 

He smells nothing but a hint of chrysanthemum and vervain. Not that Victor knows that very moment what exactly he smells. He only knows it smells good. 

He takes a better look at that skin the other man is so obviously very fond of, takes in the line of a strong jaw-line, pliant lips, fine lines from smiling too often around his eyes, and decides that, yes, that face is indeed a wonderful canvas. Too bad there won’t be much left of it once he’s done. 

Under different circumstances, he’d probably fuck the guy first and kill him later - but this is about business, not his personal pleasure. 

Roman, stop calling him Roman, Victor chides, tries suppressing a wheeze. Ah yes, he almost forgot, his ribs are already broken. The other man bares his teeth, pulls a grimace that somewhat resembles a grin, yet Victor knows the signs - he’s merely trying to mask his pain. 

Grabbing his chin, he turns the man, forces him to study him as well. Roman scoffs. “Pathetic,” is his verdict. “Look what you’ve become,” he grumbles.

“And that would be?” Victor snaps back before he can stop himself. 

“You used to be an artist!” Roman exclaims so violently the chains holding him up, start to rattle precariously. “The Da Vinci of murder you used to be! A Salvador Dali with a knife, and now? All you come up with is dangling me from the ceiling and showing me this crap.”

Victor snarls, gives him a good shove in return, and turns back to his tools. 

“Hey, how does it feel to live your life like a chained pit bull?” Roman howls instead. “Every day you get up, torture a bit, but where’s the passion? The spark? The creativity?” Victor is sure if he could, he’d gesticulate wildly. 

“Trust me, creativity will be the last thing on your mind once I’m done with you,” he snaps back.

Roman clicks his tongue, yet refuses to acknowledge that statement. “When was the last time you truly had fun?” he asks instead, managing to look smug even in his predicament. “When was the last time someone really let you loose, mm?”

Arching an eyebrow at his captive, Victor licks his lips. What a shame, truly, he thinks. He should have been given a chance to bang that vocal, little slut before cutting his throat. 

Roman smirks knowingly, and for a moment, Victor is baffled. 

“You said that out loud,” he sing-songs, as a strand of his hair loosens, elegantly framing his face. “Look,” he continues, still grinning knowingly. “I have an offer for you - you can either work for me, or kill me off and file for unemployment in about….” Roman wiggles his head from side to side, seemingly counting, when a loud bang jolts through the basement. 

“Well, I guess now,” he finishes, unfazed. 

Tilting his head, Victor considers the offer. It sounds suspiciously like Gigante is no more, and besides, he has never been especially good all on his own, without anyone to point him in the right direction. On the other hand, it’s been a long time since he enjoyed true freedom. 

But then he hasn’t met anyone who has the ability to humor him in an even longer time. 

Nodding to himself, Victor makes a decision. 

Yet before he can touch the chain, Roman stops him. “One thing though,” he declares sternly. “I demand absolute loyalty.” 

Victor sighs and pushes a button, releasing him. If there’s even one thing he’s better at than killing people, it’s serving people. 

Roman jumps to his feet almost immediately. “Eww,” he says. Wrinkling his nose in disgust as he wipes some grime from his suit before slapping Victor’s face with his palm outstretched, like a little girl. It stings viciously, though. 

Surprised, Victor looks up. 

“No more ruining my suits,” Romans orders angrily. “And now,” he continues, putting his arm around Victor’s shoulders as if they’d been friends forever. “Do you know how to make shrinking heads?” 

Baffled, the assassin follows his new boss out of the basement, slowly realizing this had been the first and last time he had the upper hand in his relationship with Roman Sionis. 

Nobody in Gotham dares to tell him that is untrue, though. 

But then it’s Gotham - and she has her own truths. 

#zsaszmask #justsimplymeagain

[ocegion]

Marvel or DC?

I actually am completely unfamiliar with DC. I have read a bit of Sandman the last couple days, but other than that, nothing. And I like MCU a lot, plus I’ve had a few looks at some comics. So really, Marvel wins by defaut

ask me if you’re curious about something!

#Asks #justsimplymeagain #thanks for the interest! <3

[pennyrice]

Your art is stunning!

thank you 💕

#moo ask #justsimplymeagain

[commanderbengiskywalker]

Once you get this you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly, then send this to ten of your favourite followers SPREAD THE LOVE 🤍

Thank you. Sorry I didn’t get the notification for this. My sincere apologies for making this late.

1. I am brave.

2. I like my glasses.

3. I love that I am good at history? Does that count?

4. I love my curiosity...? This hard.

5. Talking to people.

I’ll tag, if they wish to.

@penguinkiwi, @crcgeneralwandsmith, @crc-shea-the-jedi, @crc-the11tailedlovesclones, @crc-commandalore-cody, @mandofury, @movietimegirl, @justsimplymeagain, @johnnyclash87 and @crc-commander-saoirse9 .

[saricess]

Six Sentence Sunday

here we go!! three WIPS’s for maulsoka!

inspired from @justsimplymeagain post about pretend married couples.

Maul hums, it’s tone obviously amused. “I see. If I had known such missions would make you need me this way then I would have done them sooner.”

That little - “You know, ever since you’ve become comfortable with flirting with me it’s gotten a bit annoying.”

“You only say that because it affects you.”

“In your dreams.”

“I think you’ll like my dreams.”

“Shut up,” Ahsoka hisses, and not just because he’s getting on her nerves. “We’re here.”

Alive Chapter 4

“Ok, now that Ahsoka is alive and well,” Sabine turned to Maul with a hard glare. “You need to be dealt with.”

“Oh?” Maul smirked. “And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’ll fight you myself if I have too!”

Maul chuckled. “You can try Mandalorian, but I have defeated many of your kind in combat, including Pre Vizsla. You do not hold even to half of them.”

Sabine sneered but that only increased Maul's amusement, Ahsoka didn’t expect anything different if she was honest, it was Maul’s second nature to belittle for his own amusement.

 “Enough.” Hera’s voice was strong with the command, Sabine reluctantly leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest with a look of annoyance. “But Sabine does have a point, what happens with Maul now?”

“I say we launch him out when we’re out of the atmosphere.” Zeb suggested. “No gravity and no oxygen, he’ll be dead in minutes.

a little something @octobertown gave the idea of ahsoka finding a meal themed bear (from build-a-bear)

How long did I sleep for? She turned to see the Maul themed bear and picked it up and looked at it once more. I can’t believe I slept with a stuffed animal like a child. She still didn’t understand how someone would make such a thing.

It was cute, unlike Maul, and so soft. Ahsoka couldn’t help but hug it again, strangely being comforted by it.

“Lady Tano I -”

Her eyes snapped open and her head whipped at the intruding figure in the doorway, the Zabrak looked at her with the same amount of shock. His eyes trailing to the stuffed bear in her arms that his eyes moved onto, and back to her face.

Out of all the people to catch her, it had to be Maul.

In the bed, cuddling the stuffed bear that looked like him.

#mine #my writing #star wars #the clone wars #star wars rebels #ahsoka tano #darth maul #maulsoka #six sentence sunday

[aziraphales-library]

Hello!!! I'm looking for fics that are coffee shop AUs, florist AUs, and tropes along the lines of that; except, instead of them being humans, they're still beings from heaven / hell

If there aren't any like that, that's fine. Thank you very much!! <3

Hi. Here are some non-human au coffee shop and florist fics...

heraldry, and other omens by starklystar (G)

Two days ago, the shop was called SLICE OF HEAVEN, in bold, yellow neon letters above the window’s tartan awning. Yesterday morning, the letters had read out ARSE OF HEAVEN, but by evening, residents reported it had changed to a more subdued BAKED BADS. It shouldn’t be possible to change neon signs so quickly, but today, upon entry, the bakery had been called DEVIL’S ADVOCAKES. ---------------- Or, there’s a new bakery in the South Downs area, that’s also maybe a flowershop, a coffeeshop, and an animal clinic. There's a chocolate scone that costs six thousand pounds. For orders, kindly contact [email protected].

Safety in Falsehood by enjolras_lexa (T)

The florist!Crowley AU no one asked for and everybody probably already wrote. Aziraphale’s bookshop burned down and now he needs a new cover job, ends up being hired by Crowley. Neither of them knows the other isn’t human. Cue romance.

Blue Roses by NotEvenCloseToStraight (G)

Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the most successful flower shop in all of London and in no way could that success be attributed to excellent customer service or the owner being the sort of chap who was friends with everyone. In fact, Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the most successful flower shop in all of London DESPITE having the worst customer service imaginable and an owner that obviously enjoyed making every moment in his shop as unpleasant as possible. Anthony J Crowley was surly and ill mannered, impatient with potential customers and downright aggravating with repeat customers, and underwent transactions as if it irked him to his very soul to sell the plants he raised. Hell’s Bells Botanicals was the best, its owner quite literally the worst, and seeing as how Crowley had been around since the dawn of time and had seen any and everything the world had to offer, he didn’t see anything about his attitude changing anytime soon. But then the empty bookshop across the way was purchased by a blonde man in an old fashioned sort of suit jacket, and life as Crowley knew it changed quite a bit.

What the mind forgets the heart remembers by IggysBunny (T)

The apocalypse did NOT happen. It was not supposed to NOT happen, as far as Gabriel and Beelzebub were concerned. Since their first attempt to punish their respective Earthly representatives (read: get revenge) didn’t work out, they decided to go bigger. Obviously, the best way to do that was to split the two. Aziraphale and Crowley would not remember who they are, lose their powers, become human. A patisserie and a flower shop would be involved. Of course, the plan was rather big, they needed the approval of God herself. Well, The Almighty agreed to it, under one important condition- in case the (now both) former angels fell for each other, everything would be back to normal. Naturally a demon in nature would never love an angel, and vice versa. Right? 

I'll Be Seeing You by Magnolia822 (E)

Mr. Zachariah Fell, purveyor of fine candies and ice cream, lives a comfortable life in spite of his hazy memories and troubling dreams. When a red-haired, handsome, and oddly familiar stranger takes over the shop across the street, Zachariah is forced to confront the possibility that he might not be the man he thought he was. In fact, he might not even be human at all.

Big Cup of Espresso by justsimplymeagain (M)

It turns out - when you lose your memories you can find yourself in a job position unlike anything before. Too bad it didn't stay simple as old faces got involved.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #coffee shop au #florist au #florist crowley #memory loss #mistaken for human #mod d

[not-a-princess-but-a-queen]

I was tagged by @justsimplymeagain to post gifs of your 10 OTPs!

1) Wayhaught

2) Leversge OT3!

3) Hannigram

4) Queliot

Ok they weren’t the only thing I liked in the show, like there was so much going for it! But their relationship was so amazing and felt like the realest thing in the show. After all that I just... found it hard to care about the rest even though I liked other parts of it. Anyway they’re on my forever bitter list

5) Rumbelle

6) Vanessa x Ethan

Also bitter!!! Bitter af

7) Nygmobblepot

8) Maxanne

9) Rick x Evelynn O’Connel

10) Malec!

This was fun!! Ships I love but couldn’t put on here are Jonmartin cuz TMA is a podcast lol. Also Westallen Cuz im behind and Deckerstar and Malex too. Tagging

@lynne-monstr @jackabelle73 @stardust-22 @ladysibyl @urcadelimabean and anyone else!

#tagged #this was fun!

[thegreenfairy13]

8. In a rowboat... you know me, I love your Gobblepot. So Gobblepot please.

I hope you like it! 

The afterlife is nothing like Oswald imagined it to be. But then it’s exactly like he imagined it to be, too. 

He comes back to his senses ever so slowly, opens his eyes carefully against the onslaught of light and heat, tries sitting up only to drop back again, more tired than he has ever been. Debris and fire are raining down, Gotham’s skyline, practically engulfed in flames, stands proudly in the distance, unreachable to his touch. 

He wants to sob. 

A steady stream is taking him away from the lost city, and it’s not the fire burning his skin that pains him but the loss of what has been a part of his being, what has been etched into his veins, and flesh, and heart like nothing else. 

It’s a pain worse than back then when they had smashed his leg into pieces so small no one could ever piece them back together. 

He’s in a boat, that he notes, as it gently rocks him to a sleep he knows will never come again. 

Slowly raising his head, he finally opens his eyes fully, and sees a man he never would have expected to be here. 

Jim Gordon, Gotham’s likewise loathed and loved hero, rows their boat. Jaw set tight and sporting an expression full of unwavering determination, he fights the tide’s stream, forces a tiny nutshell cutting through the very waters of hell to obey his command. 

It’s fitting, in a way. In life he bent everything to his will as well - just like him. 

“Finally awake?” he grumbles, taking in Oswald’s surprised expression. 

He merely gawks in response, pushes a hand through his sticky hair, stalling for time. 

“Wh..What?” he stutters. And isn’t it funny? The former King of the City Now Burning is being reduced to a teenager again. 

“The city went to hell, literally this time,” Jim offers as only explanation, continuing to row against the stream, like he always does. Why Oswald ever thought his stubbornness would change in death is a riddle even to him. Jim would never take the easy way, would never simply float or drift. 

It’s not right, though. Despite all his flaws, Jim is a good man, tried, at least, to be good. Unlike him. He always strived for being anything but, put money and power above anything else. He had always been greedy, even and especially in love. It brought him nothing but pain, though. 

As if sensing his thoughts, Jim raises his head. “I jumped after you. When the bridge collapsed. Again.”

Oswald vaguely remembers: the fear, the rush of adrenaline, Jim stepping between him and the city’s enemy of the week. Except, this time, nothing went according to plan. 

“Something pulled you under,” Jim elaborates, undeterred. “It wasn’t easy, diving so deep,” he muses and Oswald’s breath hitches. He has a pretty good understanding just how hard it must have been sinking into the darkness when he could have just swum towards the light.  

He says it though as if he was talking about the weather. 

It’s too late now, Oswald thinks bitterly, how he only now understands who Jim really is, that all his gruffness hides kindness, compassion, and that a good chunk of it had always solely been reserved for him. Cause it means something, doesn’t it, following someone into limbo? 

He scrambles forward, practically throws himself into Jim’s arms, clings to him as if he was his anchor, and he probably is. There had been a time, long ago, when he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could be someone else, for this man. It was a shortlived fantasy. 

“Why did you follow me?” he has to know though, cause, despite the tangible evidence beneath his hands, he still has doubts.

Jim merely shrugs in response. “I never wanted you dead. Stripped from power, maybe. Harmless, not wreaking havoc, for once,” he tells him with a half-smile, sweating profusely as he navigates their little boat towards the harbor, back to where they started. He tells him all these things as if they had been clear for everyone to see. 

Oswald focused too much on his betrayals those past few years. He wishes he could come up with a suitable apology. 

The corner of Jim’s mouth twitches as he’s unsuccessfully trying to hide a bemused smirk, despite their dire situation. 

And finally, Oswald snaps. Leaning forward, he catches Jim’s lower lip between his teeth, climbs fully into his lap, and kisses him until he has no other chance but to reciprocate, until he’s breathless not only from the exertion but Oswald’s onslaught. It’s an awkward kiss, messy, and probably inappropriate. Someone in hell probably adds ‘lust’ just now to the endless list of his sins.  

Jim pulls free, looking younger and happier than the mobster has ever seen him before, gestures at the paddle, “I can’t continue with you kissing me,” he says and carries on, takes them somehow back to the shore. 

“How do we ever get out of here?” Oswald wonders out loud when Jim takes his hand, pulls him from the boat, and starts walking toward the city.

Jim shrugs, as if the answer meant nothing to him, and throws his line back at him. “I don’t know. But I guess it’s better walking with a friend through the fire than walking alone through the pits of hell.” 

#gobblepot #justsimplymeagain #drabble #fanfiction

[ocegion]

First of all, let me apologize for not reading the last two chapters of “Down a Different Path.” I will. Secondly, given the world that you created there. How do you think Morales would react to Rick and Rick's general situation there?

first of all, don’t worry! at your own pace, whenever you want

Second, I’m not too sure? I guess that Morales’ hostility towards Rick was due to the hostility between Rick and Negan. Without that, I’m assuming they’d just be pleasantly surprised to see one another again, is all.

#justsimplymeagain #thanks for the ask! real nice to see interest for my fic #<3

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

A Feast of Ashes

by justsimplymeagain

Aziraphale has fallen, he falls before Armageddon – Falls because he chose to love Crowley. So he does the next best thing, he flees and it would be years later when Crowley manages to track him down at a dinner party.

A Dinner party hosted by none other than Hannibal Lecter.

Words: 904, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Hannibal (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens), Hannibal Lecter

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Fallen Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dinner Parties, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, OOC Characters more than likely

source http://archiveofourown.org/works/20412355

#ao3feed ineffablehusbandz #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #anthonyjcrowl

[kiwikipedia]

A Price Given (Shouldn’t Be This Exasperating)

[ID: Plo Koon buys the equivalent of space pizza for the Wolffepack… however because he doesn’t make money per se Wolffe was mildly suspicious but mostly concerned because Plo is notorious for selling his tusk…

When it’s confirmed - then Wolffe has the daunting task of trying to ground his Jedi for being reckless without coming across as ungrateful…

Plo kind of finds it kind of amusing and is touched by the concern. All the while planning on how to get them something in a few months if things go well.]

Reposted from my writing blog’s reblogs, original post by: @justsimplymeagain

The stipend that the Jedi Masters get from the Senate is just enough for them to live within their means— mostly. Wolffe knows. He also knows that Masters Windu, Yoda, Tiin, Fisto, and Ti collectively chip in to make sure that General Buir— er, General Koon gets a bit more each month, simply because he needs it to karking survive. Because he keeps doing the same from his own credits for Knight Sha and Master (Knight? Wolffe was never sure, because the eldest of the Koons disliked being called a Master for some reason) Fey because apparently the Council Masters got paid more than the Masters and Knights.

And Anti-Ox mask filters were expensive. And food that the Kel Dor could eat without needing to medicate was expensive.

Being a Kel Dor off-world was tough and expensive, Wolffe reasoned.

So with all that in mind, how the ever loving Sith Hells did Plo Koon manage to get not just savory flatcakes, but savory flatcakes for the entire 104th Battalion. General Monn included.

He had chanced asking the Shistavanen Jedi Master as he sat with Comet and Warthog on the floor (what was it with the 104th’s Jedi and sitting on the floor? Plo kept doing it and Wolffe had tripped over General Swan and Commander Tano when they were visiting once) but the canine Jedi had no idea where the head of the 104th had gotten the means to acquire so much food. But General Monn had offered up some vital information. Apparently that fish-brained idiot General Fisto had been in the Barracks, seemingly out of sorts before leaving again.

Now, Wolffe knew that Fisto was pretty level headed for being so laid back, it was rare for him to actually be “out of sorts”… except for when it came down to a handful of figures.

One being the 104th’s own general. And one of the last times that the nautolan had been “out of sorts” had been after Wolffe had gotten his eye.

The Commander of the 104th groaned internally as he came to the conclusion of how Plo Koon had gotten the credits to spend on all of them. Of course he would. As if they hadn’t just grown back to size a week ago.

Kel Dor tusks were the Galaxy-wide equivalent to what a planet called Terra had once called “Ivory”— meaning that they were ridiculously expensive when whole, tons of credits per ounce, and even just silvers or shavings could go for more than Wolffe would ever see in his life on the Black Markets. Hell, according to General Monn, who had told them this with disgust, some high-end royals used to grind Kel Dor tusks into fine powder for “medicinal uses” back in the ancient days. Plo Koon had laughed that off, stating that everyone on Dorin always found that part odd because tusks were just bone, really.

So yeah, Wolffe had an idea of how Plo Koon had come across so much money.

He knocked once, twice, three times on the door to Plo’s office before the door slid open and he only had the energy to raise a brow at the sight before him. Kit Fitso was on the floor, reading through reports though his tresses were twitching quite unhappily. Monnk was in there for some reason, also sitting on the floor with a look of ‘I Dont know how I got here but here I am’ on his face, but the object of Wolffe’s ire was calmly sitting on the floor as well, back against his pefectly useable desk for kark’s sake and a datapad balanced on his knees.

“Commander,” Plo greeted, more than cheerful for someone who was missing one of his tusks. “How can we help you?”

Monnk gave him a ‘please help me’ look but Wolffe ignored it. “Sir,” he greeted, “I…”

Shit. How was he supposed to word this without sounding ungrateful?

He cleared his throat. “While the vod and I are quite… ecstatic over the gift you’ve given us and General Monn,” he started, tone slow and careful. “There are some… concerns…”

Fisto buried his face in his hands, groaning a bit as Plo tilted his head.

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow, Wolffe,” the Kel Dor hummed and Wolffe sighed rubbing his eyes before running a hand down his face.

“Sir, you’re missing a tusk,” he said flatly. “With all due respect, it’s concerning.”

Plo just hummed, as if he couldn’t see what the problem was. “Is that so?” he questioned and Fisto let out another groan.

“I can assure you that there’s no reason to be concerned, Wolffe,” Plo said, though his remaining tusk quivered in amusement at his riduur’s predicament. “I’m quite alright. In fact, I do have a question in regards to the 104th—”

“No,” Wolffe cut in quickly. “Whatever it is, no.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t even asked anything.”

“Sir,” he said dryly. “You’re grounded as of today. No going out on the Black Market, no going out and buying anything en masse for the 104th.”

There was a pause and both Jedi and Monnk were staring at him. Plo raised a brow. “Wolffe, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I do,” he said back, tone still dry before he glanced over to Fisto. “Hey, General Fisto, I’m pretty sure Monnk and I can handle your paperwork. General Monn can file General Koon’s for the week. You’re on General-sitting duty.”

Fisto just snorted but got to his feet and gave him a mock salute as Plo made an indigent noise. “Wolffe—”

“Sorry, sir, but as the Commander of the 104th battalion, it’s important to not let our Commanding officers do anything stupid,” he told him with a salute. “And we had to ground General Monn earlier this month. Just be glad I’m letting Fisto be on General-sitting duty. Data wouldn’t let you have as much fun.”

This sorta ties in with my stickerverse chapter where Voolvif joins the 104th because yes? Also theres no star wars canon equivalent but pancakes are flatcakes and uh. you can sorta see where i went from where? Savory ones are more like pizza while sweet ones are more like pancakes? Also like i fixed the plot hole of ivory. Terra is earth and no one wants to go there because its stupid and also a dead planet

#Penguin Writes: Gift Fics #Penguin Writes: Star Wars #Penguin Writes: Wolf and Wolfpack #Penguinkiwi Writes #Star Wars #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #Star Wars: The Expanded Universe #Star Wars The Prequel Trilogy #Plo Koon #Voolvif Monn #Commander Wolffe #104th Battalion #Kit Fisto #PloKit #Penguin Writes: Oneshots

[sewerparty]

I can't get over your art, it's stunning. I hope that I could one day draw characters with the same skill. And sorry you're dealing with people disrespecting you and your work by reposting your art.

Art is a never ending journey for all of us :) Just keep swimming my dear And thank you for your kind words!

#justsimplymeagain