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jundlcndwastes · 4 months

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☆ — LIKE THIS POST FOR A STARTER FROM CAPTAIN JUNIPER WOLFHART , A STAR WARS OC. IF YOU’RE A MULTI MUSE PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT MUSE(S) YOU’D LIKE A STARTER FOR. IF YOU’RE A SIDEBLOG PLEASE COMMENT ON WHAT BLOG IT’S FOR.

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vendeavendea · 11 months

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Deltarune Story Dice Set

It's finally ready!

9 dice with 54 Deltarune-themed pictures that you can use for roleplaying, writing fanfiction or whatever you want to!

I originally made this specifically designed for @facultativeactivity with loads of personal messages etc., but later I decided to create a public canon version as well so that anyone can play with it. I made it from scratch with zero coding/web designing experience, and I know it's far from perfect but I'm really proud of the result. Please try it and give me feedback, I'd really appreciate it!

You can find it HERE.

Or if you'd prefer a downloadable version, here you go.

I'll probably update this project once the new chapters are released so keep checking back if you're interested!

#deltarune #story dice #roleplay #solo rp #coding #web design #my art

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angorwhosebabyisthis · 4 months

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hm. thinking about going ahead and putting together and posting that barebones offline version of Mark's RPGSolo system, which is the single best solo/DMless rules-lite i've ever seen or played in my life; i've got a few more things to give a little more loose structure/prompting to people who need it, but it runs perfectly fine as is with what i've got and i think people might enjoy it. the only dice you will ever need for the offline pocket version are a d10 and a d100, if that gives you any idea of how simple it is to pick up and run.

the main reason i made my writeup of the barebones vs the original thing is that the original is online-only, and has percentages that get tweaked on the regular, and i wanted a simple version i could use anywhere and have consistent knowledge of the statistics involved to work from.

that said the original site has a ton of cool extra tools and resources, both on the RP page itself and the forums, and i highly suggest checking it out! the ttrpg scene could use way more assistive tools in the form of programs made to automate crunch, and i really appreciate the creator for setting out to fill that niche for the community and doing the work to make it happen and maintain it. the main site for the actual roleplay can be found here, and the forums can be found here; in particular the documentation index is a great place to get an idea of the basics, and check out the extra tools if you want. i'll post my pocket version here next, and some of the extras on the original site can have a bit of a learning curve, but if you're at all interested in easy, freeform solo/DMless roleplay i 100% recommend giving it a look! (and maybe sending a donation the creator's way, if the spirit takes you.)

go ye forth and have fun!

#RPGSolo #solo rp #solo ttrpgs #whosebaby talks #seriously i'm so excited to share this; i really struggle with solo rules-lite and it's been wonderful so far #especially since it has SO much room to add in as many extra rules/guiding rails/etc as you want; in as much detail as you want #want to add in a mechanic where you have 3 hitpoints to lose and then you die?#want to add one where you get a limited number of rerolls and have to either collect more; rest to recover them; or spend them permanently?#want to build a massive sprawling system on top of it that takes a ton of crunch to roll up every turn for?#by jove! the sky's the limit! whatever works for you!#just aaaaaaaa i love it so much #recs #ttrpg tag #whosebaby makes things #whosebaby does game dev #flaps me hands

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passionsafire · 8 months

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A thumping metal heartbeat sets an unsteady rhythm as a fire-red titan of steel lies trapped between fallen rivets and frayed wire large enough to barely fit in the giant robot's hands. Within its chassis, the buzzing tone of a bugged-out radio wave echoes from the center console of its cockpit. The pilot lies still, spiked-up hair drooped over his forehead, caked in sweat. A dented flying V guitar lies flat in his lap. Both pilot and Valkyrie, both equally battle-worn, were at least not so worse for wear as the environment of the wreckage-strewn corridor around them. Rubble topples from an exposed ceiling panel as a thunderous quake ripples through the devastated station. The unmistakable sound of explosions echo again and again in the distance like the repetitive beat of the drums of war. Faintly, in the undercurrent of the merciless soundscape, a crowd roars. Unintelligibly at first, but as the static loop of the radio circuit begins to drown out all other sounds, he hears it clear;

". . . Ba-

. sa-. .

ra. . ."

The pilot stirs, his numbed-out index finger twitching to life.

"Ba... sa ra..."

It's louder this time. The drums sound more coordinated, and his foot starts tapping along to the beat.

"Ba-sa-ra. Ba-sa-ra. Ba-sa-ra. Ba-sa-ra."

The call of the crowd meets his ears as he steps forward onto the stage. Spotlights beam down on him, bright enough to force his eyes into a squint. But he doesn't take his eyes of his audience for a second. They've all come here to see them play, to hear Fire Bomber! He can't disappoint them now, can he? Not after they've come this far.

"Basara! Basara! Basara!"

"How ya' feeling, EVERYBODY?!" Nekki Basara cries out to them, raising a single fist to the sky. The roar of the crowd erupts into a chorus of voices like rogue waves crashing against a rocky cliff. Boom, boom, boom from behind--Veffidas putting down a drum beat with the ferocity of a brawl. Ray's keytar fills the air with a cool synth rhythm while Mylene's bass fires up a deep, pounding riff.

"Alright, let's get started! FIRE!!"

"Basara?" A voice calls from behind, but he's focused forward, getting fired up with the fans.

"Basara." It calls again. His brow twitches.

"Basara!"

"Oh, come on! What's wrong, we're just about to get starte-" A flash cuts through his vision, throwing him out from his fevered dream and back into reality. As a burst of flame roars into the corridor, Basara's eyes burst open in a fury. He barely has time to get his bearings before another quake rocks his Valkyrie's chassis inside and out.

The radio in his forward console chirps out a scratchy query, "Ba..s...? Ba...sara? Are y.... re.....ng th...s? Wha.... y..... ....atus?"

The rockstar swipes his bangs from his eyes as he sluggishly reaches for his machine's controls.

".....ara? Co..... ..n Basa....a. Ba....sar...a!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on. I heard ya' already," he says, pulling his guitar to his chest. His Valkyrie reaches forward and pries itself free from the cage of wreckage that had collapsed around it before pulling itself to its feet. With a burst from the rear verniers, Basara accelerates into a veritable maze of crooked metal. The fire that burst out before has died, quickly, and judging from the fact that his machine's feet haven't touched ground since he got up must mean that space shouldn't be all that far away. A few more halls of twisted metal pass before he comes face to face with a pitch-black hole filled with a dim glimmer of light reflected off free-floating debris.

There we go. With a burst of speed, Basara and his Valkyrie clear the opening and come to a stop against the surface of an adjacent wall that seemed to have been blown clear from the ship it was probably just inside. He looks up and sure enough, there it is. As busted-up as a wreck could be, the carrier he just left floats past a solemn view of a blue planet awash with distant explosions, still falling apart before his eyes. It's an ugly sight. A sigh passes through his lips--what a waste of life...

"I've got a reading again!" Chimes the voice of a young woman across the radio. "Captain, it's Basara! We've found him again!"

Found him again? He wasn't aware he was lost. Then again, he did only just wake up. Wait... how long was he out for, again? Before he can rake his brain for an answer, the image of a familiar face flashes up on a side screen by his controls. An old man with greying hair and a pair of distinctive black shades worn under a helmet's visor.

"Basara!" Maximilian Jenius exclaims, his voice deep and commanding as ever. "We've been trying to contact you for half an hour! What happened?"

Half an hour? Sheesh. Talk about a power nap...

"I don't know. I just woke up a second ago... ship I was on got blown to smithereens, from the looks of it."

Max frowns and shakes his head. "I was afraid of that..." The stress of battle seems to have taken its toll on old Max. His face has been drawn into a half scowl from the moment he showed up on screen. It seems to soften as he looks back up at Basara, however. He might be trying to force a smile, but if so, he isn't doing a very good job. Not that he can blame him. "It's good to see you're alright."

Basara wipes a bit of sweat from his cheek, putting on a strong face of his own (and doing a considerably better job of it.) "Don't worry so much, old man. Just got the wind knocked out of me is all."

Seeing Basara in such a spirited mood gives Max the energy to chuckle. How about that? If he didn't know any better, he'd say the rockstar's thick-headedness was starting to grow on him. "Glad to hear it. Now, that's enough chatter. I need you back here, ASAP. We're regrouping around Lagrange point L1, but Delta Flight has been cut off. I'm moving in to support, and I want you as backup."

A grin flashes across Basara's lips. "You mean you need me to bring the show to you? Didn't think you were that big of a fan, gramps!"

"Take this seriously, Basara. Walkure has already pulled back. That means we need to rely on your songs for support," Max says.

"Walkure, huh?" The rocker says. "Shame. I'm not great at doing second-fiddle, but I wouldn't mind singing along with them sometime!"

The captain smirks. "I could arrange that. After you start following orders, that is."

"Tch..." Not the most innacurate dig he's ever been given--but in his defense, he works a lot better when he just goes with the flow, anyway.

"Don't worry, Delta Flight and I won't be your only audience for this one. Or did you think I was going alone...?" Max asks, Basara arcing his brow in response. Just then, a few other fresh faces flash across his screen.

"ALRIGHT! A battle between robots just wouldn't be complete without the right music! I'm getting pumped up just thinking about it!" Says a young, silver-haired boy whose eyes almost seem to twinkle like stars at the prospect of a real battle between mechs; Ernesti Echevalier, the boy from another world.

"Indeed. I'm eager to hear your songs as well, Nekki Basara! Charging into the fray with a song at our backs... I couldn't think of a better way for a warrior to enter battle!" Says a blonde pilot with a half-scarred face and an ecstatic grin just about as wide; Major Graham Aker of Solbraves.

"Not the worst motivator I've ever heard of. Shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, though, right? I'll be glad to have you with us too, Basara." Says a man with a scar over one eye and a robotic prosthetic replacing one arm; Kincaid Nau, a space pirate from the Crossbone Vanguard.

"Hah... you're really throwing together a party, huh, gramps?" Basara laughs. "Not a bad bunch we've got here... alright, then! Hope you're all ready..." Basara gives his guitar one quick, preparatory strum. It howls out a pleasant tone in return. "...This one's gonna knock your socks off!"

His signature red Valkyrie rockets off the loose wall, kicking it away into the darkness as his machine shrinks away into the backdrop of Earth against the black, ominous void surrounding it; a single bright, shining light in a starless sky.

"LISTEN TO MY SONG!"

——————————————————————————————————————————————————— Part 1 | Part 2 |

#IC: Basara #IC: Max #IC: Ernie #IC: Graham #IC: Kincaid #Solo RP #Mecha RP #Macross RP #Gundam RP #Crossover RP

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plumpstuck · 1 year

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John: Introduce yourself.

———

==> Your name is JOHN EGBERT. You've always been a bit on the THICKER side, even before your father developed an obsession with baking and the like. Not you nor anyone else would ever describe you as FAT, but you were more than known to be on the PLUMPER side of the scale.

==> However, having grow up in an environment surrounded by baked goods with little to stop you from indulging... needless to say, indulge you did. In addition to your round starting frame, you had put on at least a bit of weight under the coddling care of your dear dad. The consumption of cake to an excess has put its mental toll on you— the moment your taste-buds grew sick of the over-exposure, you had discovered that it wasn't just your taste-buds that changed. As subtly aware as you were to your climbing weight, you didn’t do anything to stop it, and you perhaps did even less so to prevent it from increasing in pace. Your method of coping with this predicament was passive denial and aversion to the subject.

==> Now, you've moved out of the old family house and are on your own. You could have sworn that these stubborn pants fit nice and snug when you'd waved your farewells to your father. He sent you off with plenty of snacks for the road— you tried to decline, but he insisted. You weren't just going to shoot down your teary-eyed father's generous offer, and the pastries did look tantalizingly sweet. It took little more fuss for you to resign your refusing position with his eyes wide with pride and care. Before you knew it, he had your broad arms full of boxes and bags of his latest baked creations.

==> ... but that was months before today. Today, you press your lips into a thin line of frustration, trying— and failing— to hitch the unforgiving denim up to acceptable levels. As you breathe out a hefty sigh, you wince as your soft post-starter-belly inches forwards and buds over the pinching waistband.

John’s breath was caught in his chest as he alternated between wrestling with the garment and taking much-needed moments to just breathe. Those moments were necessary altogether with his growing frustration, tied altogether by his tiredness.

He started off devoting more of his time tugging to hopefully rake the hard material up his thighs with mere moments of recollection littered in-between. By the time he had concluded such winded efforts, he had spent more time heaving and teary-eyed from those efforts than he had actually spent on those minor stubborn attempts to continue. ‘Concluded’ is a word that tactfully avoids the truth of the situation— John hadn’t successfully finished the mundane task of getting dressed at all. His vain attempt to clothe himself was punctuated by the bounce of his tummy as he dropped the two flaps of fabric. Although inanimate, the gentle jiggle of his doughy lower roll of fat as he threw down the fabric in defeat seemed almost smug at his futile attempt to contain it.

A final sigh left those lips of his, now reddened and plump from the anxious fidget of digging his prominent front teeth into the sensitive there flesh of his lower lip. John slumped backwards, exasperated as he kicked the worn and useless pants off of his legs— pudgy and thick enough to be considered, as much as he'd deny it himself, fat.

"God dammit," he heaved through his chest with his face flushed dark, "Those fit last time I tried them on…"

He dabbed at the damp spots cornering his eyes, glimmering with the light caught from an open sliver of his window blinds. As his heavy chest and belly rose and fell with his weighty breathing, John tried his best to focus on anything other than his figure— a responsibility he took on by occupying his eyes with a particular meaningless spot on the popcorn ceiling.

The frames upon the bridge of his nose were slick with sweat of toil, so much that they began to slip. He lazily let his head droop to the side, soft cheek pressed into the plush of the pillow as he fell tired.

...

John woke from his slumber with heavy eyelids and an empty growl gnawing at his hefty middle, his trimmed nails tracing against the flesh as his idle hand kneaded at the angry mass.

==> What are you going to do now?

💙 ==>

#send asks to continue the story and interact with things :3 #john: do the roleplays #<- the john rp tag #(because i do not want this to get mixed in with the standard tags)#muse enters #<- introduction tag #rp with: me #chubstuck rp #chubstuck #fatstuck #homestuffed #wg rp #solo rp

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galacticshq · 1 year

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happy monday everyone ! i’m here to let you all know that some of our current most wanted include: leia organa, ezra bridger, kanan jarrus, reva, seventh sister, eli vanto, qi’ra, qui-gon jinn, bo-katan kryze, satine kryze, bail organa, & the bad batch !

#star wars rpg #the bad batch rp #rebels rp #kenobi rp #solo rp

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insanetreattricker · 2 years

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Going into cryogenic stasis (Solo)

There she was, getting suited up in a special suit that would keep her body safe from the icy temperatures that her body would be going to be subjected to.

Insane had even gone ahead and fasted so as to avoid having food in her stomach going bad as she didn’t want to wake up with a massive stomach ache from food that had gone bad during her time in cryogenic stasis.

Exhaling she laid down in her cryogenic pod, swallowing down a pill that would make it possible to monitor her vitals remotely without any wires intruding her body.

The pod closed up and with a hiss being audible created an air tight seal that made it impossible for Insane to hear any noises coming from outside the pod, exhaling once more as she closed her eyes and placed her hands on top of her chest.

Another hiss was audible as the pumps whirred to life and pumped liquid nitrogen inside the pod, lowering the temperature rapidly as Insane’s heart was coming to a crawl.

The process was quick and painless as the displays registered a temperature of -175 Celsius inside the pod and Insane was confirmed to be in a deep cryogenic induced sleep and a timer was visible as well. One showing the time elapsed since the cryogenic stasis began and one showing how long was left before the stasis would come to an end.

[TIME REMAINING: 5Y 23H 49M 59S BEFORE END OF STASIS]

[TIME ELAPSED: 0Y 0H 10M 0S SINCE STASIS HAS BEGUN]

The displays indicated, suggesting that Insane would be sleeping in cryogenic stasis for 6 years and that 10 minutes had elapsed since cryogenic stasis had begun.

#Solo RP #Just bored out of my mind so have Insane going into cryogenic stasis ^^

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soloroleplaystory · 10 months

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Hello.

My name is Emery Lane.

I am 5'3" tall with hip length black hair, heterochromia with eyes of two different shades of red.

I started college at Some University this year at 21. I sit in the second to last row. I'm not sure exactly how close I am to the guys around me, but the one that sits directly behind me is kind of intimidating. Some of the guys say he's the leader of the schools most notorious gang, but I've never seen any of them doing anything. I can tell they're together because of the arm bands, but Marcus has never really even said anything in class.

Something weird happened yesterday though. I got a paper cut while working on an assignment in class, and of course I jumped and grumbled. Marcus grabbed my hand and had the cut sanitized and bandaged before I could respond. When I smiled at him after, I swear his cheeks turned a bright red. Maybe he's embarrassed to have been caught helping someone?

Oh well. The bandage isn't just a plain one either. It's a cute smiley face. Does he have a younger sibling?

#chapter 1 #Emery and Marcus #Love story #solo rp #solo roleplay #roleplay #enby #nonbinary #creative mind #writer #maybe not a good onw but a writer nonetheless

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galacticsads · 1 year

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IS THERE HOPE LEFT?

galacticshq is an appless, star wars discord roleplay set in 7bby, twelve years after episode iii ! a cataclysm of the force merges the past, present, and future and brings all of our beloved muses into the same time period.

THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE.

#rogue one rp #the mandalorian rp #book of boba fett rp #andor rp #solo rp

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littleblackheart · 1 year

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﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖚𝖓 𝖌𝖔𝖊𝖘 𝖉𝖔𝖜𝖓 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖔𝖓 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖘 𝖚𝖕,

𝕴 𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖔 𝖆 𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖌𝖔𝖔 𝖌𝖔𝖔 𝖒𝖚𝖈𝖐.

#horror rp #rp #wednesday rp #new rp blog #solo rp

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jundlcndwastes · 4 months

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☆ — LIKE THIS POST FOR A STARTER FROM CAPTAIN AUGUST WOLFHART , A STAR WARS OC. IF YOU’RE A MULTI MUSE PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT MUSE(S) YOU’D LIKE A STARTER FOR. IF YOU’RE A SIDEBLOG PLEASE COMMENT ON WHAT BLOG IT’S FOR.

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mashaofthewild · 1 year

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Mariya's diary entry: The Giant Locusts

This takes place around the time of Jurassic World: Dominion.

I have been hearing reports of a new species of locust appearing in the forests. They are said to be very large, and to be very tough. Could even tolerate a of heat too.

I saw one of them while going on a walk in the park. It was eating a lot of plants. There are some reports that they only target plants not created by BioSyn. If that is the case, then that is a greedy move by BioSyn. To crush those who do not buy from it and to force others to do business with them. They should be investigated, as this would be an ecological and an economic disaster if they manage to spread worldwide. There should also be a cure found for these giant locusts, so they do not destroy the environment. Whoever came up with the idea of these locusts is very irresponsible and greedy.

#jurassic park rp #jurassic world dominion #fanfic #solo rp

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peakmars · 3 months

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( 🫧 ) - SPRING DIARY : CONTAINED THEME !

In celebration of PINKFAIRE'S kofi reachin' 143 followers (it went up to 160+ the past month) here's the promised FREE THEME for my lovely followers/supporters! This is also an announcement of my discord server openin' and a massive thank you to those who had been so kind to my resources with all the compliments received. I don't say it as much, but I do appreciate it. I hope you have as much fun usin' this theme as I do while makin' them. Have a nice day.

FEATURES . .

1 Main Photo.

3 Extra Photos.

1 Description.

2 Popups: Rules & Muses.

OTHERS . .

Photo sizes stated once installed.

GUIDES . .

REBLOG the post if you use, honestly. The ONLY request I ask for.

DO NOT share the codes with ANYONE once purchased/received.

DO NOT claim as your own/use as base codes/mix with others.

DO NOT remove the credits.

DO NOT take any of the edited photos I use in the previews.

Find related links: Preview. Code. This is a FREE THEME.

P.S/ If you don't have discord or isn't comfortable to be in a server, feel free to hit me up in DMs for the codes! Make sure to REBLOG this post first, or I won't entertain the DM at all.

#rph #indie rp theme #free rp theme #free theme #rp theme #contained theme #mine : all #mine : themes #( be kind to me ok ; im in my anxious chihuahua state atm )#( i wanted to make one for a solo muse ; but not quite sure #lmk if that's smth you want! )

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passionsafire · 4 months

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It has now been well around half a week since Maximilian Jenius and the various pilots he'd called together were attacked by a force of unidentified attackers in Earth orbit.

It was at once both entirely unexpected and wholly foreseeable... but it wasn't like they had much choice. With the unrest around the Earth Sphere being what it is, it'd be impossible to make any kind of noise without some faction or other picking up on it.

This time was a bit different, however, more coordinated. The Gigasion hadn't seen them until they were right on top of them. Even Exsedol agreed; this wasn't some random attack. This was planned. Which means it's even more imperative that they don't take their next moves lightly.

"Captain on bridge," an artificial voice chimes, signalling Max's presence to the bridge crew as he walks in and into his chair.

"What's the status of our descent?" He asks.

The ships' navigational officer answers, "We've just hit 31,000 kilometers. We'll be entering Earth's atmosphere soon, sir."

"Understood. Tell all hands to be at the ready for entry," Maximilian says back. The officer nods and follows through while Max turns his attention to other matters. Namely, the Gigasion's next stop: Tokyo harbor.

"I already took the opportunity to radio ahead, Max." From an opening in the bridge's floor adjacent to the captain's chair, the macronized head of Exsedol Folmo, the ship's advisor and one of Max's oldest friends, rises into the room. "...That is what you were just thinking of, no, Captain?"

"Ah..." Max would have been surprised, had it been anyone else. But Exsedol has always had the mind for that kind of thing--always one step ahead. The old archivist certainly knows him well. "Thank you, I was just planning to do that."

Max has had a lot on his mind lately... doubtless, Exsedol could tell. But that's all part of the job, isn't it...? Always thinking, rarely resting. Hardly have time to breathe, except for when he's back in the pilot seat... not many feelings can compare to the rush of nostalgia he feels, setting foot behind a Valkyries control stick. Always feels like... well, like "home."

Atmospheric entry is coarse as always, especially with the amount of debris that's swimming in the upper atmosphere. As soon as they meet cloud cover, a message reaches them over the communicator. An old friend of theirs from a previous operation expresses their eagerness at being their welcoming committee this morning.

"Quite the energetic type, that Commander, isn't he...?" Max comments, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Energetic isn't quite the word I would use, captain..." Exsedol says in response. "In fact, I'd say he reminds me of bit of you when you were younger."

". . . Come again?"

A sudden flash of red cuts through Max's incredulity in an instant, a warning siren sounding from the bridge consoles. Max doesn't even have to read the text that flares up in front of them to know what's coming.

"Captain...!" One of his officers says, swiveling around to look at him in a flurry.

"I see it. Raise our combat alert status and prepare to scramble fighters on my command!" Max responds.

"Aye, sir."

The captain pinches the bridge of his nose, heaving out a sigh under his palm. Exsedol barely needs to look at him to know what he's thinking. "Our pursuers are certainly persistent ones," Exsedol states, parroting Max's thoughts near exactly. "They aren't going to let us to descend so easily."

Max nods. "We've known that from the beginning," an explosion above the Gigasion's deck sends a shockwave ripping across the ship. Max, off-balance but mostly unphased, lifts the brim of his hat to view the battle brewing past the bridge's viewport just over their heads.

"The only uncertain factor was how many of our number they'd shoot down before we'd made it," the captain says, his stalwart expression not betraying even for a second the bitter tang of remorse on his tongue.

His Zentradi advisor saw through him easier than most, however—if he was still miclone-sized—he might have rested his hand on his old friend's shoulder as a sign of support. Instead, he'll have to rely on the tone of reassurance in his voice.

"Quite the challenging conundrum," he says, "But not one we haven't surpassed before."

Max falls silent and the hurried chirping of the bridge's instruments count each wavering second between one thought and the next. Just as he's about to speak again, one of the technicians spins around from their monitor; the only color on their face is the red light from the combat alert warning.

"C... Captain!"

"Report," Max says, regaining his composure in an instant. A skill he's down right mastered over the years.

"It's the radar, sir... the enemy—their number just doubled—no, tripled!"

"An error?" Max asks.

"Checking... negative, sir! The system's coming back clean!"

"Perhaps they're jamming us..." Exsedol councils. "Have we established visual contact?"

Another technician from across the bridge turns back and nods. "Affirmative!"

"Put it up on the monitor," Max orders. In a flash, the image of the blue-rimmed skies above the Gigasion appears. For a few fleeting seconds, the scene seems almost clear, until...

"Is that...?"

"Enemy fighters?"

"Doesn't look like any aircraft I've seen..."

Over the chatter of the bridge crew, Max hears Exsedol utter a name under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices the Advisor's brows furl as expression turns grim. He's about to call his name when he notices a figure in the topside camera that he didn't before. His eyes widen as the realization of what they're seeing begins to dawn on the entire bridge.

"Captain..." One of them mutters.

"I see it," he says, curling his fingers around his chair's armrest. "So they've even started to deploy them now..."

From the darkened skies above their heads, a dreaded enemy descends—where they saw one, dozens more begin to appear before their eyes, dotting the horizon like a field of stars.

"The Noise..."

——————————————————————————————————————————————————— To Be Continued . . .

Part 1 | Part 2 |

#solo rp #ic: Max #This has been my drafts for long enough #SRW verse crossover hijinks

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mrandmrssnowbaird · 3 months

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synopsis - Coriolanus convinces himself it doesn't count if he doesn't use his hands

masturbation, orgasm denial, self denial, hands-free orgasm, nipple play (if you squint), lots of begging (even though he's alone yup mhm), shame lots and lots of shame

When he first starts touching himself, Coriolanus convinces himself it doesn't count if he doesn't actually touch himself. This took many forms over the years.

The first few times, he finds actually putting his hands down his pants or pulling them down and wrapping his hand around his erection made him feel bad. Guilty. Oh, he does it, there's no doubt - he can't just stop.

He tries to stop. Only to find himself in situations like the time where he literally almost comes in his pants watching a classmate chew on the end of her pen, shifting in his seat and unable to stop, relieved he's in the back row as his erection gets rubbed in between his thigh and uniform pants. Thank fucking christ for all the layers.

That day in class gives him an idea and when he gets home later, he drops his bag on the floor, locks his bedroom door, and doesn't take a stitch of clothing off.

The way his hard, weeping length had been getting stimulated by his clothes had been fucking incredible, and despite being in a room full of people, the shame had been minimal.

Coriolanus will take whatever he can get at this point.

He blows out a shaking breath as he settles and almost immediately he feels his dick harden fully. His breath starts to quicken almost immediately after that. How long has in been? Months since he's given in?

Too long. Far, far too long if he's practically coming all over himself in class. What would he have done if he had?

He can feel the weight of his uniform on his body, the extra fabric at his waist, and it feels like being lightly touched all over as Coriolanus shifts around a little, trying to recreate the sensation he'd felt in class. Or build upon it.

He feels his face heat up as he shifts his hips. Fuck - if felt so incredibly good.

He whines in relief, breath quickening further. If this felt good enough to make him cum then he could feel this kind of pleasure much more often - maybe not all the time, but enough that Coriolanus doesn't come in fucking class.

The stimulation isn't quite enough and so he shifts to the side and down to acheive the goal of tightening his boxers and pants arount his crotch and yes,yes,yes-!

That was it, right there. It feels a little awkward otherwise but Coriolanus can't bring himself to care right now. Biting his lip, he shakily reaches into his boxers, adjusting his hard cock so it was resting against his stomach instead of his thigh. This is even better and Coriolanus is soon gripping his threadbare blankets in his fingers as he humps up just a little - that's all it takes - in order to stimulate his erection that has been neglected for too long.

"Oh... fuck..." Coriolanus breathes, mouth falling open as his hips jerked up, clumsy, body in no way used to this motion. He whimpers, wanting so badly to press the palm of his hand against the front of his crimson uniform pants, it would be so fucking easy to cum like that, and so quick.

He tries slowing it down and that actually feels better - Coriolanus lets out a low whine with nearly every slow, sensuous thrust of his hips. As his chest begins to heave, he feels the fabric of his shirt brush against his nipples and this causes him to cry out in surprise.

He's past caring if anyone can hear him.

"Damnit - please -" He whines to himself as he draws closer, hips slowly rocking back and forth. His boxers are now wet and a little slick with his precum, which makes Coriolanus whimper to himself, then let out frustrated sobs.

Frustrated for several reasons - one because it feels so fucking good the way his cock is sliding more easily but it also brings him back to the filthy reality of what he's doing - squirming around on his own bed like a desperate little slut -

"Oh god," Coriolanus chokes, hips jerking faster the second he thought the word slut - then he couldn't stop thinking it - slutslutslutyou'resuchawhineydesperatelittleslut

"Please, please -" His hips are moving in fast little jerks, underside of his erection grinding against the inside of his pants, which now has a wet spot at the front. He is so close, so close but it didn't seem to be quite enough pressure, or something, and Coriolanus was starting to panic.

"C'mon, p-please! I can't-" Coriolanus can't give in and touch himself now. He's already gotten this far! But fuck, he's gotten this far, and he needs to cum or else he thinks he might actually go a little crazy.

The tears come before he does, and he can't take it anymore. Whimpering and whining, Coriolanus turns onto his side and bunches his blankets in his hands, then he presses the mess of fabric against him, grinding into it, knee coming up to wrap one leg around it a bit as his dick erupts, cum coating the inside of his boxers.

He sobs, turning his face into his arm. Coriolanus can't stay completely quiet - it's been far too long.

The orgasm seems to mount as he humps into the fabric more, thinking he's riding out his orgasm, his hot release aiding in how fast and how much his cock was sliding in his boxers, and it feels a little different than when he was dry, not better or worse, but different.

He feels just as lewd as if he was using his hand. Just as disgusting and weak and pathetic - animals fucking did this!

But another orgasm is coming. Coriolanus wants it to stop - it was supposed to be done by now! He sucks in a breath, only to release it again in sobs, tears soaking his crumpled jacket.

"Please - god - just one more, please, I won't again, I won't do this again I swear," He mutters to himself.

He wants it harder, wants to fuck something harder, wrap his hand around his dick, touch himself all day because what does it matter now, he's a filthy slut anyway -

Coriolanus cums again with a grunt, hips stuttering, slowing for a moment, then moving even faster, as what feels like a third orgasm of some kind hits him to ride it all out.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckyesyespleasec'monfuck,"

Another grunt and he knows he's spent. His entire body goes limp as he sobs into his arm. How humiliating. Cum was everywhere through out his pants and - christ he had been so eager to get off that he hadn't even taken his shoes off for fucks sake.

He's pathetic, and Coriolanus feels sick with himself. His father would be ashamed - either because of his lack of self control or whatever made him such a pussy that he couldn't just jerk off. Get it over with.

He cries for awhile, feeling sorry for himself, and disgusted.

He tries to comfort himself. He never did really touch himself, not technically, and it isn't entirely his fault. That girl with the pen had to know what she looked like and he knows masturbation is fuckin normal.

Sniffling, Coriolanus pushes himself up to start the process of cleaning up, wondering just how long he's going to be able to last this time before he gives in again...

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galacticshq · 1 year

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happy monday everyone ! just a friendly little note that i’d love to see more of our most wanted like leia organa, kanan jarrus, ezra bridger, captain phasma, rose tico, eli vanto, bodhi rook, reva, fives, echo, & qi’ra !

#star wars rp #kenobi rp #rebels rp #the clone wars rp #solo rp

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