#I have a thousand ideas and I want them all

[bunnipuffs]

୨୧ cw. cnc, mean! ellie, toxic relationship, degrading language, choking, strap use, no prep

match my freak !

it started out with those stupid little arguments you'd always have with ellie, petty behavior that you never grew out of. ellie was a busy woman—being a leader of an infamous mafia group, she usually had business to attend to everyday, some activities ending late into the night. you were spoiled, and ellie only has herself to blame. she spent thousands of dollars on you and gave her undivided attention when you first married, working from home and forced her subordinates to complete her dirty work. things were different now. ellie's patience wears thinner, and you're only getting snappier.

"i just don't understand why you can't get home early for once. your little minions can do shit for you, can't they?" you're following ellie as she shrugs off her bloodied jacket, something you're used to seeing by now, watching as she tosses it onto your bedroom floor. you're huffing out a frustrated breath before picking it up and throwing it into your laundry basket. "and you can't even fuckin' pick up after yourself, seriously, ellie?" you're walking towards her with a scowl on your face, your hand coming to meet ellie's cheek, a loud plap! at the impact. "look at me when i talk to you!"

you can see ellie swallow before she speaks, eyes completely dark with anger. "you're a fuckin' brat, you know that?" you're walking backwards, ellie walking towards you now the same way you approached her—but she was scarier, much more menacing, and you knew what she was capable of. "you have the nerve to slap me?" ellie laughs, your bottom lip trembles slightly at her expression, but you harden your stare as your back presses up against the wall. was your room always this small? "i pay for our food, paid for this house, paid for that fancy fucking lingerie you're wearing, and you still bitch and whine about shit out of my control?" you're gulping, saliva thick in your throat, almost messing up your next words. "yeah and? you chose to."

ellie scoffs, a mean smile on her face. "i guess i did," she's looking you up and down, her gaze heavy on your skin. the way she's staring at you makes you want to hide somewhere, anywhere. "but you like it huh? letting me dress you up like a slut?" you flinch at her words, suddenly too aware that you're dressed like this while ellie is dressed normally, her usual t-shirt and jeans. you weakly push at her chest, "fuck you, ellie, you're the one who bought it for me!" ellie lets out a cruel laugh, the sound of it pissing you off even more, a sweet sounding hum from her throat after. "since it was my idea or whatever bullshit you think, i can do this right?"

ellie's aggressively lifting up your lacy bra, a startled noise spilling from your lips. "what the fuck ellie?—" you can't get another word out before she's toying with your nipples, harshly tugging at them before rubbing at it with the pads of her fingertips. you're biting at your lips, so hard you're almost breaking skin, desperately trying to keep your moans inside of you—you didn't want ellie to know she was making you feel good, she didn't deserve it, but your self control dissolves when you feel her lips wrap around your bud, warm and wet, her tongue circling around your nipple. she's grazing her teeth over them, sensitive from her fingers, a whimper dragged out of you. "ellie..."

“what? gonna complain about somethin’ else now?” her voice is muffled from how close she is to your body, her eyes never leaving yours. she pulls always from your tits, “this is mine. this,” she takes a finger, lifting up the strap of your bra before letting go, the strap snapping against your skin—you wince at the impact, harsh and merciless, eyes glossy from the pain. “and this,” her hand is trailing down to your cunt, slender fingers grazing over the fabric. “all mine, got it?” you’re moaning at the stimulation, a sadistic chuckle from ellie, “you’re soaked, babe. does arguing with daddy make you all wet?” you’re shaking your head no, but ellie knows your body better than you do. she can feel it. the way you’re ruining your panties, the way she can feel you grinding down on her hands, you don’t even notice. “fuck you.” you spit, legs shaky from her teasing. “aw, fuck me?”

ellie leans in next to your ear, the hot puff of her breath against your skin, it makes you shiver. “go lay down and take off your panties.” you challenge her gaze, unrelenting and stubborn. maybe that was why ellie loved you so much, you kept things so interesting. she thrived in chaos. “and if i don’t?” her hands come up to wrap around your neck almost instantly, not tight, but a grip that has you stuttering. a reminder of what your wife was capable of. “you wanna find out?”

you bite back a rebuttal, something that was second nature to you, to fight back even when the battle was lost. but you decide to be gracious to yourself, shoving ellie away before walking over to your shared bed, pulling off your panties. you feel embarrassed when you see the wet patch—your underwear basically translucent at ellie’s toying. you toss them onto your floor the same way ellie had earlier, sitting on the edge of your bed like you were told. your thighs are tightly pressed together. the weight of ellie’s stare is impossible to ignore, you can feel the stickiness sitting down, and she isn’t helping at all. “actin’ all shy now?” she’s walking over to your closet, picking up her strap. the one she always used when you got bratty, long and thick. it got you to shut up real fast. ellie smiles when she sees you staring at it, like it was a gun. “scared?”

“i’m not.” you huff, stubborn as always. watching as ellie walks over to you. she’s sitting right next to you, picking you up with ease—you’re hovering right above her strap, the tip poking at your pussy, it already feels huge against you. you’re gulping, eyebrows furrowing at the feeling. ellie’s grinning at the worried look on your face before you can even register it, “you should be.”

you don’t have time to breathe before she’s slamming you down onto her strap, in one thrust, the painful stretch sending shivers down your spine. it’s big, and you’re completely filled in a matter of seconds. you’re screaming out a strangled, “ellie!” voice shaky and unstable, clenching around the toy—ellie can barely move, the tightness of your cunt gripping onto the strap like you needed it. “hm? what is it, huh?” ellie groans when she looks down where you’re both connected, your slick glistening on the silicone. “thought i should teach you a lesson,” she’s holding your hips, both hands keeping you together, sliding you up and down. “since you think i choose to come home late..” you’re moaning too loud, the sweet noise echoing in your bedroom. your insides hurt, but it hurts so good—and ellie knows just the way you like it. “you should work for it. you should know how hard it is to fuckin’ work, provide for some bitchy wife who doesn’t appreciate it.”

ellie’s hands stay on your hips, squeezing at the plush skin. you hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed the whole time until you open them, fluttering, locking gazes with ellie. she’s not moving you anymore. you’re cock warming her, her strap buried all the way to the hilt. the adjustment is easier now that you can breathe properly. you twitch around her, your cunt pulsing. “what?” ellie rolls her eyes, adjusting her hips—the tip rubs against your sweet spot for a second, a whimper slipping out of you. “fuck yourself, work for it for once, since i always do. i always have.” you almost tell her to fuck off, again, but you don’t. ellie wants to see you beg, see you weak and pathetic. so you slowly drag yourself up her strap, slick dripping out of you and down your toy. you can see the mess you’ve made on it when you look down.

you’re building a steady pace, moans of ellie’s name and blabbering, a mean smile on your wife’s lips. the slide is easier now, her strap thrusting in and out of you so effortless without prep. ellie can feel her heart swell a little bit, the fact that you take it—taking it until you’re sore and swollen, eyes teary and a dumb look on your face afterwards. she loves you, and this was her way of showing it. “yeah c’mon, it’s hard right? having to work for something?” you’re shaking your head, fucking yourself faster and rougher at her words. she smiles, a genuine one, “tryin’ to prove me wrong, babe?” you’re whimpering when her tip hits that spot again, an electrifying feeling rushing through your body, your cunt feels so warm and wet. “you’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna c—“

you’re wrapping your hands around ellie’s throat, your chest filled with annoyance. it wasn’t how she held you, you tightened your grip—fingers digging into the sides of her neck, you’re leaning in close to her face. you hold back a grin when you see her eyes widen. “shut the f-fuck up, ellie.” you’re grinding down on her now, moving your hips in small circles. you’re close, abusing that spot inside of you. you can feel slick dribble out of your cunt at your own movement. “you told me to work for it, so i’m working. shut up and let me use you.” ellie laughs, strangled, her throat restricted. your eyes aren’t shut anymore, staring right back at her while you move up and down her strap. “think you can just.. hah, f-fuck, do whatever you want?” you’re bouncing on it now, the tip of her strap slamming against you—your thighs are shaking from how roughly you’re fucking yourself, your bottom half almost numb. “fuck you, ellie. you’re mine.”

plap! plap! plap! you’re whimpering uncontrollably now, your grip on ellie’s throat loosening. you slide down one more time before you’re cumming violently, pussy tightening around her, hard to slide back up with how you’re clenched around her strap. your entire body is shaking. you rock yourself back and forth, fucking yourself through your high. your breath is so shaky, coming out in fast pants, chest thrumming with how hard your heart is beating against your chest. ellie doesn’t say anything, a pink flush to her cheeks, her mouth slightly open with quiet moans falling out. your head falls into the crook of ellie’s neck, biting at her skin. “i think you complain a lot more than i do, els.”

tag list ♡

@whisperingcherub @hyperbabes

[captain-huggy-bear]

“your tie is all crooked” x Clayton Keller plsssss

1000 Followers Celly Finished Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 Writing Masterlist

"How'd I look? You think this suit is okay?" He's fussing, stepping out of the bedroom and smoothing down the white button up. Nervous. Not that you blame him, you can't imagine being nominated for the Hart trophy, not knowing if you'll actually win it, all while thousands perhaps millions of eyes watch on.

You're probably not the best person to ask...you're starting to realise that you think Clayton looks good in everything. He could be wearing a chicken costume and he'd still be handsome. The suit is...yeah, the suit looks good. Crisp white button up, black tie, black suit that fits perfectly, the cufflinks you got him last Christmas glinting in the light. He looks delicious, and you know it'll only get better by the end of the night when he's handsomely dishevelled, jacket off, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, tie off, top button undone...

"You look..."

"I look?" The smile he sends your way is teasing, more of a smirk than a smile, teeth peeking out from beneath his top lip.

“...Your tie is all crooked,” You close the space between the two of you, fingers reaching out to adjust his tie, pulling it straight and tightening it just a little more. Your fingers smooth down the black silk, eyes glistening up at him even as he looks down at you like you've given him the entire world, not simply straightened his tie.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" You avoid his eye, face heating from the intensity of his stare. Clay's fingers reach up to tuck your hair behind your ear, trailing to your chin to tilt it until you look at him again.

"Just grateful...you always look after me, baby..."

"I'm just straightening your tie." The way you roll your eyes at him just makes Clay smile wider, that dimple in his right cheek more and more prominent, eyes crinkling. You're the sort of person who never accepts a compliment from him, never knows how to react to it and he takes a great deal of joy in complimenting you anyway.

"Right now, sure, but you always look after me...do little things for me..." You make sure he has his beanie and can find it even though you complain that he needs to show his hair more. You always pack snacks into his bag before he goes on a roadie. You set alarms so you can remind him of things he usually forgets to do in the busy season...straightening his tie is just the tip of the iceberg.

"So do you..." you're mumbling as Clay tugs you closer, hands falling to your waist, sliding over your dress like he can't help himself. Which is probably pretty accurate.

"Mm because I love you."

"I love you too, Clay." Your nose scrunches up, smiling up at him as his hands rub across your back. Your own wrap around his waist under the suit jacket feeling each twitch of his back.

"I know, don't worry, I know..." and he does, Clay knows you love him. Sure, sometimes you get embarrassed saying it like the words are foreign, like they're scary. But you show it in everything you do for him, in every considerate action. You're his biggest cheerleader. "Thank you...for agreeing to come along, I know you don't like the cameras..." God, he hates them himself, but you try your best to avoid the publicity, the press, as much as possible. In a way he's jealous of you because he doesn't get to have that same level of anonymity.

"If you think I would let you win a Hart trophy without me there then you're insane, you don't have to thank me for wanting to be there for you."

You'd do anything to support Clay, to be there for him. If that meant you had pictures taken of you every day of your life or were constantly the subject of gossip blogs then you were willing to deal with that for him. The idea of not being there for him tonight had simply not crossed your mind, it was unfathomable.

"I...I forget sometimes..." He's bashful, hand reaching for the back of his neck, eyes shifting to the side as pink crawls up his cheeks.

"That people actually love you and want to support you?"

He just shrugs, no words because the truth is Clayton Keller is the guy that puts others first. He's the guy that's humble, that doesn't realise he matters quite as much as he does. The guy who's quiet and calm and doesn't shout his feelings out. He's the guy that needs reminding that he's loved, he's wanted, he's everything.

"Clayton Keller, you could be going to buy groceries and I'd want to be there with you."

[amnayel]

actually, malleus um stops the time in a certain area and puts every living being there into a deep sleep

it’s possible that people’s body would atrophy bc of the amount of time they would stay in one position, but this is only a theory ortho thought and it wasn’t confirmed, what we know for sure is that the time was stoped

and if time has stopped in itself, no one would grow old or get weak, that was the entire point of malleus plan: everyone would live happily every after for a thousand years

at the end the consequences are: a damaged building and a couple of scratches

the biggest damages were: lilia’s death, silver and sebek with major injuries

lilia, silver and sebek getting hurt was a punishment in itself, the people he tried to protect the most were the ones he hurted. the building was reconstructed and the majority of people barely noticed what happened bc in the end all they actually experienced was… a good night of sleep

that’s why they forgave him too: they didn’t really suffer anything, and it was in their culture to forgive someone who is genuinely apologetic about their acts

then i go back to my original point: seeing his father die + losing his magic + being mutilated = IS ACTUALLY A REAL PUNISHMENT

malleus actually is the one that payed the most what is insane considering he is the only one who genuinely thought he was doing something good lol, people forget that malleus is >not human< and he can’t relate to people the way others characters could

add this to 2 centuries of trauma and loneliness and you have a teenager that dont know SHIT about what to do, especially in a moment he is feeling utterly powerless after being told his whole that (1) he is almost a god and (2) he is responsible for the happiness and safety of everyone around him

malleus is a character that wants to do good when everyone around him expects him to do evil, people expect that malleus will make thunder fall down the sky, that he should say and other should obey and no one dared to give him another option other than being fearsome, so everything he knows about being good he learned from lilia or from his own experiences, and he didn’t have either enough time with lilia nor enough experiences

idk why people want so much to make a villain out of these character when it’s obvious this game is about traumatized teenagers with too much power in their hands, it’s way past time some people here realize that NO these character ARE NOT evil, they are normal people that have good and bad inside of them

malleus actions are understandable AND not justifiable, that doesn’t make him a bad person bc he did something bad

if you do something bad you have to pay for it, and he did, i don’t get why some are só against the idea of forgiveness

the very own ob boys being against he coming back to the school as if they haven’t done WORSE. is actually laughable

he doesn’t deserve worse, he is a teenager that has suffered enough: before and after this story

nah if you think that:

• being MUTILATED

• losing his magic

• seeing HIS FATHER DIE BY HIS OWN HANDS

isnt enough punishment, then please think again

its really valid to complain about the ob boys not paying for what they did - bc this is a REAL problem with twst writing - but malleus did???

literally NO ONE ELSE had to pay like he did, and most of them caused more damage

and he also genuinely apologized, what if i’m not mistaken only riddle and vil also did

nah yall cant look at his hornless face and say he deserves worse

[immortaledd]

Me when I mix Golden Cheese Cookie & Lord Eclipse (TSAMS)

I DIDN’T TOALLY MIX UP THE NAMES AND EDIT THIS POST NOOOOO

If he survived to see the death of his universe.

The fight is over. My enemies are no more.

But so is my kingdom.

My temples, my gold, my treasures, and my subjects. All of them.

I lost everything.

All that was gleaming, all that was mine.

My water carriers, my servants, my status and power.

all those little kids who played on my streets.

Moon. Whose failed assassinations always made me laugh.

Lunar. We had our differences. But none cared for the upcoming of my kingdom as much as you.

My Servant Sun, who died protecting my land.

They all were my possessions. My finest, most sentimental possessions.

Ramble to give some context!

You don’t gotta read this if you see ✨THE VISION!✨

Context of the image

I had a dream. A dream SO CRAZY, it brought Lord Eclipse from the DEAD. It genuinely sounds like a mix of an Alter Forming story and a Religious story. [I DO NOT HAVE D.I.D.]

One night I was getting ready to go to bed - and out of nowhere I just started heavily fixating on Lord Eclipse. I didn’t know why, but I was just extremely fascinated with his lore, details, and the possibilities of new context. That night, I went to sleep. I dreamt I was an Eclipse variation. My own Redeemed Eclipse AU [TWE], actually. I had gone dimensional hopping for the first time after being my tech allowed back.

I was at the bottom of a chasm that resembled a desert. Like I was at the bottom of the grand canyon. I walked forward, turning an awkward wall that revealed Lord Eclipse splattered on a giant rock. His back was completely destroyed and he seemed very much dead. I had froze in place for a hot second processing what I was seeing, staring at his open eyes.

Until he looked at me.

I was TERRIFIED at first, but brushed it up when I realized “THEY’RE ALIVE.” I pulled Lord off the rock and brought him back to the portal I came from. Then, I woke up.

->

After that, it felt like he was LOOMING over my shoulder at all times like any fictional character does when you’re delusional and tired enough. That day I drew my official Eclipse design (as you see in the first image) with the morse code “I’m Alive”. After that, he was gone. Like the message was delivered and I’ve been left like a weird ass spiritual medium.

WEIRD? yes. NOT REAL? absolutely. STILL POSITIVELY CRAZY AND LOWKEY REALLY FUN TO MAKE INTO LORE?? YEAAAAHHH?????

Yeah so since then I’ve been imagining him as alive and recovering off somewhere in a distant universe. This image is the idea of “What if he came back to see the aftermath?”

He’s devastated.

LOOSE QUOTE MONOLOGUE BREAKDOWN

This is where I’ll go over why I edited certain parts of the monologue

“The fight is over. My enemies are no more.”

Sun, Moon, Lunar, anyone who has ever had the chance of reviving or becoming to attack him no longer has that chance.

“My water carriers, my servants, my status and power.”

Originally ending with “my builders and architect”, this quote was altered due to the fact Eclipse built everything himself. He transformed the world to what he wanted. He also cared about his status and power WAY more with his philosophy, “it’s better to be feared than loved”.

“Moon, whose failed assassinations made me laugh.”

Moon wasn’t revived much, but whenever he did, it was only to amuse Eclipse and give him a sense of action. Eclipse does enjoy the revolutions that spawn over the centuries, but when it gets quiet for too long, his conscious starts to set in and he tries to distract himself with violence. Thus, he revives Moon, lets him roam, and waits for Moon to attempt to kill him. The sense of thrill rekindles Eclipse’s passion to live and the society’s passion to throw Eclipse off his throne. It never works, but it’s the only thing that makes Eclipse happy anymore.

Which, by the way, Eclipse’s world isn’t completely desolate like Lord Lunar’s world is. Eclipse has thousands of cities and generations of people who still roam. He’s much like a Greek God but is physically interactable. Everyone is under his direct watch. He is often fought back against for tyranny and violence. But the other half of the world praises him like the God he is. He can’t live without both aspects.

“Lunar, we had our differences. But nobody cared for the upcoming of my kingdom as much as you.”

Lunar was the reason he achieved getting the Star, despite betraying him. Lunar was one of the first he killed when it came to family, but he never shook off the sudden regret that came with it. He hates remembering the excitement in Lunar’s eyes when Eclipse finally made his world…and then the terror when Lunar realized he would not be a part of it.

“My servant Sun, who died protecting my land.”

Sun was killed by Dark Sun canonically to “put him out of his misery”.

“They were all my possessions. My finest, most sentimental possessions.”

Originally “treasures, my finest, most precious treasures”. He doesn’t treasure them, they’re still something he “owns” (in a sense). He doesn’t believe they’re precious, but they were something he didn’t realize how important they all were until he realized he couldn’t just bring them back to play with again. Suddenly, objects became people.

[skay-ali]

Wild Girl

It's a prologue, based on a series that won't leave my head. Why the heck did they have to cancel it? Well, it's an idea, with which I come back or show that I'm still alive. Ahggg, college is killing me. I hope you enjoy it.

Okay, I love all the careless reader stories.

Now I can't get the idea of ​​a reader shipwrecked on a remote island with a bunch of strangers out of my head.

"Your last action was very strong," your father spoke coldly.

"Well, you shouldn't have done that," you protested angrily, still hurt by what you knew.

"I'm an adult, and your father, you can't dictate what I can or can't do."

"Please, seriously, are you going to say that?"

"You were a very disrespectful girl."

"And what are you? I don't think I'm at least what you are."

"___, stop responding to your father."

"Seriously, Mom, after what he did to you."

The woman remained silent and, with a serious face, didn't speak again.

"Pack your bags, I don't want to see you at home for a while." With those words, your fate was sealed.

"Ahhhh, you don't know how much I hate you," you screamed.

You went to your room, destroying many things, your eyes red and your throat burning from screaming.

On your trip, you didn't say goodbye to anyone.

It's not like any of your family had shown up when you drove to the airport. It was your punishment.

But what was supposed to be a retreat for troubled ladies turned into hell after the plane crashed and you were stranded on an island.

You spent horrible years. They weren't days, weeks, or months... they were years.

Years filled with pain, intense struggle, disappearance, and suffering.

Many of the girls you developed bonds with perished... each one falling.

It was funny how their families sent them to save them from their problems or correct them, only to end up exposing them to great danger and even harming them further.

Your skin was wasted, your pale color was now red from the burns, your hair was a mess, so much so that you had to braid it so it wouldn't get damaged too much, you even cut it, your lips were cracked, your clothes became so worn out that you and your companions had to make your own clothes.

You had to learn to hunt animals, gather food, and create shelters from time to time.

You had to make sacrifices and survive.

It was a miracle that when you lost hope, when you saw one of your last companions leave, her baby being carried by you, when you were so broken, desperate from the loneliness, the loneliness that increasingly surrounded each of the island's inhabitants.

Someone, a mysterious person, managed to spot them in the vast sea. They were saved... you, two traumatized girls, a baby without its mother, more than five corpses of innocent women with a life ahead of them that was snatched away from them.

It was an interview where you returned.

Everyone in the league was watching, interested in the story. Well, in part, it was because one of its members was very interested in the story, which closely resembled his past.

You were the only survivor who spoke. You and a baby by your side. You couldn't separate yourself from him. The psychologists and psychiatrists who examined you called him your attachment person.

All the anxiety, what you experienced, was controlled by your interaction with the little boy. You went crazy when they took him away, thinking about the thousands of dangers he could be plunged into.

You couldn't break your promise to the only person who ever truly loved you, the person who gave you comfort during your time on the island, who listened to you and tried to understand you. Your best friend, your sister.

"___ Welcome, it's a pleasure to have you on our show."

"Well, I'm glad to be here, especially so you'll stop being a nuisance with all your invitations," you joked.

The audience's laughter filled the room.

"You're one of the few survivors of the retreat trip, finding your light. Tell me how that whole journey felt."

You weren't planning on talking when you returned to the world.

Especially since no one cared when you were missing; they just left you for dead.

But you had to go against your story and take down the guitres who wanted to exploit your story and pain to the fullest to line their pockets.

"It was very hard, being a teenager with no experience surviving, in a place without internet, without adults, without food, a roof, or clothes."

"The girls, my classmates, had to do terrible things to survive," you looked emotionlessly at the camera.

They were difficult memories.

The questions continued; you were reserved about some, very open about others.

You were giving people what they wanted.

"Tell me, do you think there's someone to blame?"

"What?"

"Yes, the plane failed, right? Surely someone was to blame."

"The truth is, I don't know." "It was something that happened quickly. I was on autopilot for a long time, trying to believe it was all a dream, that I wasn't on an island."

"But I'm sure of one thing: my father, my own father, was the one who sent me to this nightmare."

"He'll probably defend himself by claiming it was punishment, but it was his pride."

"It was my mother's fault. She accepted that my father would punish me just because I tried to defend his pride."

"It was easier for her than having to deal with her daughter, as she had done before."

"It was my brothers' fault. They never cared about what was wrong with our father. To them, I was the one who was wrong."

"While my fellow islanders are now with their families, overcoming their trauma, I am alone."

"I left society alone and am returning to society alone."

"Your family still hasn't contacted you?" You just denied it.

It was done.

It was only a matter of time before the internet discovered your true identity.

You didn't care anymore.

The press would have someone else to harass.

You needed to heal, find a new life, find a place, and keep your promise.

Take care of the only memory of your friend.

If looks could burn, Batman, the famous millionaire Bruce Wayne, would be burning from the fire in his companions' eyes.

It turns out someone did recognize you, or rather, your new fan, the other millionaire with plenty of resources to investigate your identity within the group, who decided to look for you out of self-interest, more compassion for your story, a need to help you that arose within Green Arrow.

To him, you were just a girl who went through the same horrors as him. He knew you needed help.

That harsh image on television wasn't the real thing. You were burying your feelings, and that would end you at some point.

But Oliver didn't stay silent when he found out about you. It was a huge outrage, because you could have avoided everything if only your family hadn't interfered in your life.

You could have spent a mini-vacation on an island if only your father, who had a lot of resources, had noticed and desperately searched for you.

He exploded in anger at his crime-fighting partner.

The truth was revealed to all his other companions, who also didn't react well.

Then reality hit Bruce. You, the girl who thought you escaped because of your last fight, in an instinct of rebellion.

In reality, you didn't. You ended up in a dangerous place, defenseless, waiting for someone to save you.

He was a hero, but more than that, your father. Even so, he left you to rot on an island, without knowing it.

"Hey, do you think we'll ever get off this island?" a redheaded girl asked.

"I wish I could say yes, but that possibility is becoming more and more impossible."

You looked at your friend. It was her last piece of clothing in good condition; she was the only one still wearing it, an explicit agreement to protect her and her baby.

"That's so sad. A group of girls arrive on an island and die, leaving only their corpses." Autumn lowered her voice sadly.

"Don't say that. You're supposed to be the positive one." You took your friend's hand and squeezed it.

You felt like everything was ending, the world was collapsing around you.

"But it's true, what awaits us, what awaits my baby." You didn't say anything; you shed tears of pain, sadness, and hopelessness.

So did your friend. You approached the woman, carefully placing your face against her chest, trying to comfort yourself, to comfort your friend.

She did the same, wrapping her arms around you.

"I think... I think... when your little person is born, she'll have a great mother, a great island paradise, and many aunts who will give her love."

"I don't think I'm going to see her grow up."

"What are you talking about, Autunm? Of course you'll see her grow up."

"I don't know. I feel like it won't be like that."

"Well, it will be. Just trust me."

"___"

"Autunm, no, please don't continue."

"No, ___, you have to listen to me."

"You were one of the few most likely to continue living."

"You have her too, so stop."

"We don't believe in fake dreams."

"They're not fake."

"I need you to take care of it." He pointed at his stomach.

"No."

"No?"

"No, because you'll do it. Don't leave me with a big burden," you protested angrily.

"Yes, I think I will." "But only if..."

"I'll take care of it, only if..."

[acourtofthought]

Just saw a TikTok claiming that Lucien/Elain will end up being like Lyria/Rowan, making Azriel the Aelin in this situation.

I can’t even begin to fathom the insanity of that theory, so I defer to you — the fountain of ACOTAR theory to pick it apart 😂

Other than being massively insulting to both Elain & Lucien, who stands to gain from it? Rhys? And what would he gain? It’s another part of the Rhys-is-evil-like-Maeve theory which will never happen because SJM LOVES RHYS. I actually can’t with this fandom 😭

I get that some people really love Az but I have to wonder why they think Sarah likes Az more than Lucien?

Lucien who Sarah wrote about in book 1.

Lucien who Sarah then changed his heritage with a very clear path to being a High Lord.

Lucien who Sarah wrote as leaving Spring and joining Feyre in the NC, becoming someone the NC relies on for information, being the person who could command Cassian with a single word and someone who Cassian feels sadness for (not Az) over his situation with Elain.

It's actually pretty hysterical that they think Sarah is going to write Az as getting Lucien's mate, that Az would even DESERVE Lucien's mate over Lucien himself. "Such misogyny, blah blah, girls choice!" Seriously get out of here with that nonsense (not you anon, them). Sarah loves her male characters just as much as the female ones. It was Dorian who she said would accompany her to the theater and Rhys who she said she'd take to a deserted island (not any of the girls). Sarah said Lucien (not Az) has always been one of her favorite characters. She said there was someone special for Lucien (not Elain) at some point in the future and a mate is pretty damn special especially when it's Elain Archeron. She loves Outlander and Jamie Fraser and based Lucien off of him. But sure, her Jamie Fraser is going to lose his mate to AZ???? All because Elain thought she wanted to kiss the guy? 😂😂😂 When said guy couldn't even give her credit for killing the king, didn't think she could handle the darkness of the trove, and didn't bother to ask her how she was after her arguments with Nesta? Why in the hell would Sarah write Az as the one getting the girl over Lucien in this scenario? Az looks like the Walmart version of Tamlin at the moment, at least in terms of Elain and there is little chance Sarah is rewarding him with another guys mate.

As far as the theory, Az is irrelevant to the equation as it relates to Lyria / Rowan / Aelin and Lucien / Elain.

Rowan believed Lyria to be his real mate.

Lucien believed Jesminda was his real mate.

Lyria was murdered.

Jesminda was murdered.

Rowan was shocked to discover Aelin was actually his mate.

Lucien was shocked to discover Elain was actually his mate.

Az is literally just an interloper to all of this, he always was and he still is. He was just the placeholder to create angst with Graysen now being out of the picture, a stepping stone for Elain to go from not wanting any male or mate to starting to come around to the idea of a male (but without any real strings) which takes us to her book where she'll fully accept her mating bond once she fully accepts her faeness. And Sarah is not going to recycle the same storyline, where someone was "manipulating" Lucien's bond the way they were manipulating Rowan's. She might reuse phrases but she doesn't copy exact plots.

That they truly believe Sarah would treat Lucien to the same narrative as she did Lyria, that he'd just be the "fake" mate, proves how little they pay attention to the series as a whole. Lucien is MMC material a thousand times over, Lyria was not given main character energy. He had buildup for his story long before Az ever did. So yeah, I don't know where anyone is getting the idea that Sarah planned on giving Az Lucien's Happily Ever After.

Edit: Also, thank you for referring to me as the fountain of ACOTAR Theory, I'm still smiling over that ❤️

[starsreminisce]

Rejecting the Bond in the book itself.

Wouldn't it end up being about how Lucien feels and how things are going for him?

They talk about rejecting the Bond as if it were just Elain saying "I want to marry the Bat," as if all the drama of the Bond would go away.

Sarah says the Woman can choose, but she also says it's forever, and whenever she talks about examples, she says that the Man has a harder time with rejection and feels it more deeply.

Bottom line: Lucien shouldn't be allowed to be in the same room as Elain at the beginning of the rejection, and every time he shows up, Elain still has to deal with the Bond.

And the book doesn't show her being on good terms with Lucien or even being able to be in the same room.

Having an example book would have to focus on Lucien first or be a two-parter, and it would still have to have romance on only one side. And maybe I'm wrong, but it would still be a Lucien and Elain book.

As of now, I do not see a strong foundation for Elain and Lucien tackling a rejected bond storyline, for a few reasons:

A. They have not even had a real conversation about their bond. B. Elain and Azriel already seemed to close that door. She returned the necklace, and Azriel had no real internal reaction to that moment. Instead, his thoughts shifted immediately to Gwyn when he decided to regift it. C. Rejected bonds in the series tend to carry delayed consequences rather than being clean breaks. D. Elain will always feel some kind of pull toward Lucien, and Lucien toward her. The “His name is Lucien” line directly echoes Feyre saying “Then you don’t know Rhysand very well at all” at her engagement party. That doesn’t feel like a coincidence.

You’re right that the books have not shown Elain and Lucien on good terms or even able to spend much time together, but that fits how SJM writes mates. Feyre was afraid of Rhys when they first met and kept waiting (in fear) for him to call in their bargain. Nesta didn’t want to be near Cassian because she knew he saw through her. That discomfort is part of the early stages of these dynamics, not a sign they are not mates.

We’ve seen Elain trying to hold things together, but also clearly struggling. That’s a familiar arc in the Maasverse. Aelin, Bryce, Feyre, Nesta, Elide, and Yrene all went through similar phases until their mate and comparable counterparts came along who helped them finally reach a turning point. And SJM often gives her male characters the dramatic line about waiting “a thousand years” for their mate. If Lucien is going to make that speech, it’ll carry extra weight considering he already lost Jesminda, who he thought was his mate, and now has to live with that history. Cassian even hinted that Beron could become a threat to Elain, setting up more potential for Lucien to take a stand.

If the bond were going to be rejected, I think we would have seen more direct movement in that direction, especially during ACOSF or in one of the bonus chapters.

So far, the bond has shown it does not care about timing, distance, or even death. Feyre and Rhys were pulled together before they knew why.

If Elain and Lucien were going to have separate and fulfilling stories, Vassa would need much more development to stand beside Lucien. And Azriel’s attraction to Elain still reads as surface-level. The only charged moment was one look, and everything else can be explained another way.

Right now, neither alternative feels fully developed enough to justify rejecting the bond.

Even then, SJM consistently writes her couples as belonging to one another completely in mind, body, and soul. Azriel would always have to live with the fact that Elain is not his mate. He already hides parts of himself from her, and his shadows skitter from her presence.

Elain, in turn, would have to deal with the pull she feels toward Lucien and the lingering idea that Azriel’s true mate is still out there. Elain and Lucien’s bond scent wafts through just from being in the same room. Lucien has not been pushed out of the picture. He still returns to the Night Court for things like Starfall, even over Nynsar.

Of course, SJM can write the story however she chooses. But as a reader, it is hard to imagine her turning her back on the concept of the mating bond when she has emphasized its depth and endurance so strongly, especially in HOFAS. That book showed how powerful the bond is, even in death.

She can choose to retcon Elain and Lucien in favor of Elain and Azriel, but it becomes harder to buy into that shift when the most recent book she released had Azriel correcting Bryce about the Cauldron with a sense of reverence. He still seems salty that he has neither a mate nor a partner nor a spouse.

If a rejected bond is meant to be explored, it is more likely to come from a pair like Helion and LoA, who already have the history, reasons, heartbreak and distance that kind of storyline requires.

So like you said, you really cannot tell Elain or Lucien’s story without addressing the mating bond. No matter what path they take, they are still tied to each other’s journey. And considering that SJM has said before she was excited to explore Elain’s and Azriel’s stories (plural), just as she was excited for Nesta’s story (with no mention of Cassian prior to the announcement of ACOSF), it makes me think she doesn’t intend for Elain to reject Lucien.

Sorry it got wordy lol. Thanks for sharing!

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

I would like to explain that the reason I didn’t like that last shot of Andor is because I don’t like the way Bix left in the last arc.

(Putting this under a cut so you can skip for spoilers or skip if you just don’t want to hear anymore about it. Perfectly understandable.)

Let me make this clear first: Bix leaving in itself is not the problem. I’m so glad that after everything they put her through, they didn’t just kill her or make her fight and keep fighting when she doesn’t want to. I’m glad that the last we see of her, she’s finally looking healthy and at peace. How often do we get such a quiet, fulfilling ending for a character (especially in Star Wars, and especially in the Everyone Dies Show?)

We all knew going into this show—and this season in particular—that Bix had to make an exit somehow because we don’t see her in Rogue One. The first option I think occurred to everyone (myself included) was: she gets killed. And the next thought I had was: that’s terrible and it would be the laziest option. As this season progressed and we saw her struggling so much, the more I hated the idea of them killing her off because I hate when they decide to just kill off a traumatized character like that’s the only mercy they can contrive for them.

Having Bix choose to leave is so much better.

But here’s the crux of the matter (for me, at least): it’s the way they had her leave.

I’ll admit: I didn’t mind the Force healer. Initially. The scene with her does resemble some of that overly cryptic, poetic, ominous prose that I usually associate with Doctor Who—you know? Someone standing there with a haunted look, gazing at the main character like they’ve just watched them die in front of them a thousand times, and then they go on to allude to it in the vaguest, least helpful way possible? But later when you, the viewer, see the finale and see the dots connect, you’ll know what it means? (And it makes for some really cool edits later)

Yeah, the Force healer’s speech was terribly on the nose but I enjoyed it. I liked that they slipped a little bit of Jedi stuff into the No Jedi Allowed Show. And the concept of a Force healer on Yavin just sparks so many ideas and stories for me.

But I didn’t like that, because of that one single ominous and vague interaction, suddenly, Bix reveals she’s had all these feelings and dreams for so long that Cassian is meant to do something in particular, like he’s so special and destined for it and she’s not supposed to be a part of it.

What?

I don’t blame Cassian for freaking out a bit at that because where is all this coming from? Bix earlier does express belief and faith in him, she does feel he’s an asset to the Rebellion and she does want him to fight, okay, but now she’s been sensing destiny? I thought the point was supposed to be that Cassian wasn’t a Chosen OneTM.

Then Vel comes and tries to convince Bix to convince Cassian to give more to the Rebellion, stay in line a bit more so they can actually use him. Okay. That’s fine. I don’t have a major problem with that. What I do have the problem with is that, somehow, Bix takes this and connects it to the Ominous and Vague Interaction and decides Cassian is a Chosen OneTM… in the There Is No Chosen OneTM Show.

So then, after Ghorman, Cassian returns and expresses a desire to leave. He wants a quiet, normal life. Bix takes away his choice, tells him she’s choosing for him.

When I first saw that message, I suspected the writers made her pregnant, but I really thought they wouldn’t go there.

It’s not the tragedy that Cassian has a child that he’ll never know that gets me; it’s that his choice for how to live his life is taken away and someone who claims she loves him did the taking away based on some vague notion that he’s a Chosen One.

Having Bix choose to leave because she doesn’t want to fight anymore is fine. Letting her return to somewhere she made connections in the community and found meaningful work is fine. Having her go on to have a family of her own is also perfectly fine.

Making that baby Cassian’s is not fine.

A part of me wouldn’t have minded if Bix had told Cassian and they had an actual mature discussion and decided she needed to leave and have the baby somewhere safe. Logically, Cassian would want to go with her—we want Cassian to go with her—but they could have had it that he agrees to follow and find her after he’s done with this mission he’s already committed to (this would work really well if the Bix leaving stuff was pulled forward to this arc. They could have done it; their hands weren’t that tied). Then you can still have Rogue One happen all the same but with some different context as they hammered home in the advertisement of this season (but why doesn’t Cassian mention Bix? Because he’s keeping her safe and it just doesn’t come up. Not a lot of time for casual conversation when the Death Star looms, you know?)

It’s just too obvious they wanted extra layers of tragedy and having Bix choose to leave because she fears she’s getting in the way of Cassian’s contribution to the rebellion is a cheap shot already, adding in a child he will never know (but made a sunrise for, yeah, okay, we get it “poetry; it rhymes”) is an even cheaper shot that I did not expect from a story that provided so much deep, complex writing in the first season.

And the thing is: this isn’t a tragedy for Cassian. Alright? He doesn’t know. The tragedy for him is Bix leaving and making the choice for him to stay in the fight. The baby is just supposed to be a tragedy for the viewers.

But had it been Bix choosing to leave, choosing to start a new life, choosing to have a family somewhere peaceful, then I would just enjoy it (and that’s how I’m gonna headcanon-fix-it for myself)

[idillycrose]

"You two are inseparable. I still don't understand how you aren't lovers already!"

Genre and info: Fluff-Drabble || FEM!Phaidei/Myphai (Mydeimos/Mydei x Phainon) || some headcanons of mine in Third POV (in a storytelling style sort of) || there will be a female version for this!

You have been friends with these two for years! Ever since you were taken in by Tribios and taught with them under him, you had gotten along with them, though you've noticed something between them...these two, outside of fighting and training, acted differently, even the other Chrysos heirs noticed! You'd watch them, third wheeling them as if they were a couple, just standing there awkwardly while they bickered or so.

Phainon, being the tease she is, likes to pester Mydeimos, who responds with a shrug, a huff, or a sharp comment, which may seem offensive to others, but to them, it was normal between them, these two understood eachother more than themselves. Mydeimos, despite being rough around the edges, didn't actually try and hurt Phainon in any way, whenever Phainon teased her over something, she'd just go along with it, if Phainon feels hurt by something she said, she'd apologize a thousand times, even if it wasn't her strongest suit, cheering up Phainon in some way, surprising you and the other Chrysos heirs

"You can write..?" Phainon would inquire, surprised by Mydeimos' words, to which Mydeimos could only respond to with a flabbergasted stare before she huffed

"yes, I can, deliverer.."

"I had thought that they picked you as the Kremnoan archaic language tutor because they feared you" Phainon would reply, pondering the small situation, her white hair bouncing gently, showing her thoughtfulness

"I had let my people decide, even if I were their princess, if I'm not befitting for something, they can throw me from it"

"who knew the fearsome Mydei had a gentle side?"

"HKS"

You'd watch, as shocked as Phainon, though, Phainon caught Mydeimos' attention more (no offense). This was merely the beginning.

You'd sit on a rooftop after a few days, looking at the two, hiding in the shadows. The Chrysos heirs, after what you told them of this interaction, had you spy on the two, and you were sure you were dreaming. The two sat, Phainon's head on Mydeimos' lap, a Chimera held by the princess, the two conversing. Seriously, did Phainon not have something called 'personal space' when she came close to Mydeimos? What shocked you more into something of the overstimulation of your brain was that Mydeimos was okay with it, even demonstrating some of that affection, reciprocating it to Phainon. You almost fell, letting out a quiet squeal, which almost. Almost. Caught the attention of the duo. These two acted too much like a couple, even more than couples

When you had decided to ask the two about their relationship, Mydeimos denied it firmly while Phainon just called it a mere friendship, confusing you even more. What is going on with these two????? You wanted to coax it out of them, harshly or not, it just melted you from the inside, both sweetly, awkwardly, and painfully

Another time, you were sent to spy yet again, staring at the two as they sat on a boulder, a troubled look on the white-haired Chrysos heir's face, body taut, voice slightly brittle. The blonde princess sat, holding Phainon's hand firmly, his words as comforting as truthful they were. Mydeimos comforted the distressed flame-chaser, even cradling her awkwardly and mumbling some insults jokingly, which had Phainon elbow her while laughing, lightening the mood. You were finally certain that these two were lovers, they just denied it, the situationship couldn't get even more obvious

Phainon was Mydeimos' Sun, hope, light, guide... Mydeimos' was oxygen to Phainon, essential for her to live. If no one will defend Phainon, Mydeimos will do it, if people will doubt Mydeimos, Phainon will prove them wrong

©Idillycrose.writes / all rights reserved...˖⑅

"Cheri cheri lady" —×

All credits to @sugary03 for the Idea! •Idillycrose leaves•

A silly drawing for @aratribow for the lesbians (I failed u girl, Phainon looks bad D: imma try and draw him more to get used to him)

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Ashes to Ashes

Chapter WC: 15,440

Chapter Tags/Warnings: angst, unnamed/minor character death, this is a battle chapter, a heavy one

A/N: sorry sorry sorry (thank you for 850 followers!) sorry sorry sorry

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Duro, 20 BBY

Sweat drips down your face, stinging your eyes, but you don't dare lift a hand to wipe it away. You keep your focus on the droid in front of you, the buzzing in your ears drowning out the battle raging on all sides. Everything is a blur, a flurry of blasterfire and smoke. You can barely tell friend from foe, ally from enemy. You just keep moving, dodging and ducking, weaving your lightsabers through the chaos.

You’ve lost track of time, your body reacting purely on the training instilled in you from childhood. There's no time to think or plan, no room for error. Just action. It's instinct, pure and simple, a fight for survival, and every fiber of your being is focused on staying alive. Keeping the soldiers around you alive. Killing as many of the droids as possible.

You've been at this for hours. 

Hours since the first wave of droids marched out of the wastelands and up to the city. Since you and Rex had split up and led the men to their positions along the perimeter. Since the first shot was fired. Since the fighting began.

Hours since you saw Rex.

Your vision fades in and out as you move, your mind drifting between past and present. Droids are everywhere, advancing and retreating in waves. Blasters firing and deflected. Men falling and getting back up. Until all you can see around you is dust and smoke and debris.

And through it all, you feel it. An itch under your skin, a pressure behind your eyes. The familiar presence, the cold, unrelenting pull, the darkness that hangs over the battlefield, drawing closer with each passing minute. 

You're not sure what's worse. The knowledge that it's coming, or the fear that it's already here.

But there's nothing you can do. You can't think about it now. You have a job to do. So you keep fighting, and the hours pass.

As taxing the battle has been, it's nothing less than routine. There's a certain comfort in that. In knowing that the enemy is predictable and the strategy is the same. Your men have the advantage of higher ground and better weapons and more experience. The droids don't stand a chance. Not really.

So why can't you shake the feeling that something is wrong?

The wind picks up as you slice through another set of droids, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You duck behind a piece of rubble and peer out into the distance, searching the horizon, but find nothing. The wind has picked up some, the dead grass jutting from the cracks in the ground and debris swirling around your feet. There's something familiar about it, something that sends a chill racing down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“How're you doing, sir?" Snap's voice asks through the comm on your wrist, and you glance down at it before returning your attention to the landscape before you.

"Could be better," you admit. A droid attempts to dart around your cover before being shot down, and you shake your head. "But we're holding our own."

"Any idea how many are left?"

"Not really," you sigh with a grimace. "Couple thousand, give or take.”

“Right," Snap says, and the line crackles, his voice cutting out before coming back. "Keep...alive."

"I'll do my best," you mutter as you duck out from behind the rock and start toward the nearest group of droids. You slash through them easily, blades cutting through the metal like butter, and you advance, heading further outside the city walls. The wind is getting stronger, and the clouds are beginning to thicken, a storm brewing in the distance. You grit your teeth and push on. "How are things at your end?"

"I don't want to jinx it, but..."

"Then don't," Dash's voice cuts in sharply.

"We're holding steady," Snap finishes, a hint of irritation in his tone. "A little bored, to be honest."

"I said don't," Dash groans, and you smirk at the exchange.

"Relax, Dash'ika," Screwball snorts. "We've got this."

The banter continues, the troopers trading quips and insults, and the knot in your chest loosens a bit, the pressure behind your eyes easing. It's a welcome distraction, the casual, easy conversation grounding you, and you find yourself laughing to yourself at the antics of your men. It's not much, but it's enough. For now.

"General, how's it going out there?" Dash asks in an attempt to distract the others from their argument.

"Oh, you know, the usual," you answer dryly as you slice through a pair of B1 droids, their circuits sparking and smoking as they hit the ground. "Nothing too exciting."

"Yeah?" Snap snorts. "That's not what it looks like on the feed."

"Yeah," Screwball chimes in. "You're practically swimming in clankers."

"Jealous?" you ask, and a round of laughs and jeers come through the comm.

"What do you think?" Snap asks. "You gonna let us have a turn?"

"Nope," you reply with a grin as you deflect another shot. It ricochets off a tank and hits a droid in the chest, sending it flying backwards. "Any word from outside?"

"Not yet," he replies, sighing. "Long range is still down."

"Well, hopefully they're not all having too much fun without us," you mutter, and there's a murmur of agreement through the line. "Stay alert. I'll check in soon."

The comm crackles and dies, and you return your attention to the droids swarming around you. A series of explosions in the distance signal the arrival of another wave, and you brace yourself as the ground begins to rumble beneath your feet. The wind is picking up again, whipping the dust and smoke into a frenzy, and you duck down, shielding your eyes with one hand. You can't see a thing, but you can sense them, their mechanical bodies looming like specters in the darkness.

"Sir!" a voice shouts.

You turn just in time to see a blur of white and brown flying toward you. A clone launches himself in the air and tackles a droid that was about to shoot you in the back, sending the pair of them tumbling to the ground. He manages to land on top of the droid and draws his vibroblade, sinking the weapon into the metal chassis with a grunt. There's a loud crack, and the droid falls still.

Another droid turns and begins firing, and without thinking, you yank the trooper towards you with the Force. The droid's blast sails harmlessly over his shoulder and hits another in the chest, the force of the shot sending it careening into a wall. 

The trooper lands at your feet, and he quickly rolls and fires his blaster, dropping another pair of droids before he scrambles back to his feet. You're already moving forward again, clearing a path, and he follows hot on your heels.

"Sir!" the clone shouts over the noise. "Sir, it's me, Lieutenant Price!"

"I remember," you call back, deflecting another round of shots and sending them into the ground in front of the droids' feet, kicking up a spray of dust and dirt. "Good form, by the way. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Oh, uh, thanks, sir!" Price says, and you can practically hear the blush creeping across his face. You shake your head and keep moving.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing good," he replies with a grunt as he takes down another pair of droids. "We're losing men."

You grimace and duck behind a chunk of concrete to avoid a hail of blaster fire. The lieutenant presses against the side of the wall, his chest heaving, his helmet askew, his hands gripping the blaster tightly. He looks like he's been through hell and back, and you have a sinking suspicion that's exactly what he's been through.

"What happened?"

"We lost the north tower," Price answers, and the news hits you like a punch to the gut. You had sent a team up there earlier, and now they're gone. Just like that. Your throat tightens.

"The south tower?"

"Still holding."

"Alright," you breathe, trying to keep your composure. You peek over the edge of the rubble and scan the battlefield. A series of explosions rips through the droid ranks, sending plumes of dust and smoke high into the air, and Price takes the opportunity to pop off a couple shots and duck back down. "We need to keep moving."

"All due respect, sir," he pants, "that's easier said than done. We—shit, look out!"

He grabs your arm and pulls you back as a tank rounds the corner of the building. The two of you tumble to the ground, and you scramble back behind the cover of the debris, narrowly missing the tank's laser cannon. The blast obliterates the stone wall, showering the both of you in pieces of duracrete.

"We have to get back," Price shouts over the noise. "Sir!"

"We can't," you reply, peering over the rubble at the tank. "I need to find their tactical droid. I have a feeling that—"

A blaster bolt ricochets off the stone inches from your head, and you duck back down, gritting your teeth. The lieutenant swears under his breath and fumbles for his blaster, firing a couple rounds over the top of the barrier before ducking back down.

"You have a feeling, sir?" he asks incredulously. "That's it? You have a feeling?"

"Yes," you growl, watching as a group of droids advances on the position where you and Price are hiding. A squad of your men run to intercept them, and you wince when you watch two of them fall in a hail of blaster fire. "A feeling!"

Price lets out a nervous laugh. "A feeling. Great. I love feelings."

You can't stop the chuckle that escapes your lips, and you shake your head, glancing up at him. He looks exhausted and frustrated and scared, and you can't blame him. This is a fight that none of you were expecting. And while you may have experienced this level of opposition before, he certainly hasn't.

You reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and trying to import some semblance of reassurance through the touch.

"Hey," you say quietly, offering him a small smile. "I know this is scary, but we've got this. Okay? You're doing great."

Price's shoulders slump a little, and he lets out a shaky breath. His grip tightens on his blaster, and he nods. "Thanks, sir. I...I needed to hear that."

"First time?"

"What gave it away?" he asks, his voice heavy with sarcasm, and you snort and pat his shoulder before pulling away.

"A feeling," you quip. He laughs, a short, startled noise, and you take a deep breath and look out at the battlefield again. "So, what's the plan, Lieutenant?"

"Plan? Well, uh..." he trails off. "I'm not really...sure, sir. I mean, I'm not exactly the planning type. That's not really my—"

"No time like the present to learn," you cut him off, and he swallows hard. You can see him wracking his brain for a strategy, his helmet darting left and right as he tries to make sense of the chaos.

"Okay," he mutters, peering over the edge of the cover. "There's a tank coming our way."

"And?"

"And we should get back to the wall," Price says, turning back to you, "and we can lay down explosives to cover our retreat."

"Good," you nod and gesture to him. "Lead the way."

"Really?"

"Yep," you reply, popping the last syllable. You shoo him forward. "Go. Go now. I'll follow."

"Right," he nods and glances over his shoulder, stiffening as he takes in the droids closing in. "Oh, okay. Okay. Let's go."

He gives himself a little shake and jumps up, and you follow close behind, deflecting the blasts aimed in his direction. The two of you sprint across the battlefield, dodging and weaving through the carnage and debris. There's a group of clones huddled behind a stack of crates, and Price motions for them to follow, the squad falling in behind the two of you as you make a break for the wall. They empty their pockets of explosives, laying a trail as they move.

"Keep going," Price yells over the din, and you nod, pushing the clones forward as they scramble through the rubble.

The air is getting thicker as the storm looms overhead, and the wind is blowing in all directions, whipping your robes around your legs and obscuring your vision. The droids are relentless, a steady stream of fire coming from their blasters as they chase after you and the clones, and it's all you can do to keep them at bay.

"General, what's your status?" Rex's voice crackles through the commlink on your wrist, and you let out a relieved sigh at the sound of his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," you pant, deflecting another shot. "We're fine."

"Where are you?"

"We're on our way back," you reply, gesturing for the squad of clones to keep moving. A shot whistles by your ear, and you duck, a small yelp escaping your lips. "Don't worry."

"Worried isn't the right word, General," he grumbles, his tone laced with concern. "I just...you're taking longer than expected."

"It's a big battlefield," you snap, a little harsher than intended, and you grimace. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean that. It's been a rough day."

"You're telling me," he grunts. There's a burst of static, and he curses under his breath. "I'm losing your signal. Where are you?"

"Almost back," you answer as the wall comes into view, a beacon of hope in the sea of chaos. You gesture to the men. "Run! Now!"

The clones sprint for the gate, and you run with them, keeping an eye on the droids behind you. The ramparts rise ahead, 501st troopers manning cannons and laying down cover fire. Soldiers’ shouts and the roar of Separatist tanks rumbling into position fill the air with deafening clamor, and you sprint harder, desperate to escape.

A thunderous crash shudders beneath your feet as smoke and dust billow from the breach a tank blasted through the wall. Two clones are hurled through the air, landing with sickening thuds meters away. You bite back a scream and press on, the wind howling around you.

Then the first explosion erupts where the wall once stood. A fireball flares outward, flinging debris, battle droids, and troopers in every direction. A clone beside you is knocked off his feet, and you seize his arm and haul him upright. He stumbles, helmet spinning, and you grasp his shoulder and shove him toward the city gate.

Within the walls, the mines you’d planted detonate in rapid succession. Brilliant bursts tear gaps in the droid ranks, sending chunks of durasteel and limbs flying. The droids scatter, their formation broken, and the clones waste no time in regrouping and surging forward to cut down those remaining.

"Go!" you yell, shoving the clones in front of you toward the safety of the gate. "Keep going! Come on, get inside!"

You sprint toward the opening in the wall, the ground shaking beneath your feet. Your ears are ringing, and your lungs burn, but you don't dare slow down. You're so close. Just a little farther.

"Look out!" a voice cries.

A final blast rattles the earth, and you stumble, your lightsabers skidding from your grasp as you fall onto your knees, palms scraping raw dirt. The ground trembles again as a massive chunk of wall collapses, its jagged debris hurtling straight for you. Instinctively, you extend a hand, and the Force arrests the fragment, leaving it suspended above your head. 

For a moment, you're stunned, the sight of the giant slab of stone hovering inches from your face leaving you breathless. You barely notice the figure sliding across the dirt towards you, snatching up your lightsabers as he goes, until you're grabbed around the waist and thrown through the gate, the rock slamming into the ground in front of you.

"Sir!" Rex shouts, his arms shielding you from the worst of the debris as the wall continues to collapse around you. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm here," you gasp, and the ground shakes again, sending another wave of dust and rubble into the air. "Rex, I'm okay."

Another explosion tears through the wall, and a section of the stonework topples over. You reach out with the Force and push it aside, gritting your teeth against the strain, and the stone hits the ground a couple meters away.

"Come on," Rex says, tugging you back up and pulling you against him, one hand pressing against the back of your head. "Get to cover. We have to close the gate!"

"But—"

"Now!" he barks. "Before they regroup!"

You falter, knowing that if you close the gate now, the men still outside will be trapped, cut off from the safety of the city and left to fend for themselves. Your heart twists at the thought of leaving them behind, and you look to Rex, your eyes pleading. His expression is unreadable behind the tinted visor, but his posture tells you everything you need to know. He's already made up his mind.

"Rex," you say weakly, the word little more than a plea, but he just shakes his head.

"You can't save them," he says softly. He grabs your shoulders, giving you a firm shake. "The droids are already inside the city. We have to seal the gate. It's the only way."

He's right, you know he is, and the fact that he's able to see the bigger picture while you're paralyzed by guilt and fear sends a fresh wave of shame coursing through your veins. You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, and you look down at the dirt and debris beneath your feet, swallowing hard.

"General," he says, his voice cracking, "please. There's no other option."

The pain in his voice breaks your heart, and you close your eyes and nod. The moment you do, Rex turns and pulls a lever, and the gate begins to slide shut, a low rumble filling the air as the metal scrapes against the concrete. You watch the gap narrow, your mind racing and your lungs struggling to take in air. There's still time. If you hurry, maybe you can—

"General," Rex barks. "Close it."

You grit your teeth and push out with the Force, willing the gate to shut faster. It slams shut with a resounding clang, and you're left staring at the blank metal face. A heavy blast strikes the barrier, followed by another, and another, and another, but the gate holds, the steel absorbing the impact of the blasts. Still, you stand there, watching the blows strike the metal, counting each one.

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to see Rex, his eyes wide, his helmet discarded. You can see the pain in his eyes, the guilt, and you realize he's holding himself together by a thread, just like you are. But unlike you, he's strong. He knows what he has to do, and he's willing to do it. You've always admired that about him, and in this instance, it's the one thing that keeps you from breaking down.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he holds your lightsabers out to you, the metal gleaming dully in the flickering light. You take them numbly and clip them back to your belt.

"We did what we had to do,” you say quietly.

"That doesn't make it any easier."

"No," you sigh. "No, it doesn't."

Rex nods, his fingers tracing along your jaw before his hand falls away. His eyes are distant and haunted, and he seems lost, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. You know he's replaying the same scenario in his mind as you are, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. Anything either of you could have done. But it's pointless. The past is the past, and nothing can change what happened. All you can do now is move forward.

A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, and the rumble of thunder reverberates through the city. The clouds above are dark and foreboding, the wind howling and lashing at the walls around you. Rex looks up at the ominous sky with a grim expression, his brow furrowed in thought.

"We need to fall back," he says, and you nod, following him as he turns and begins walking quickly. "I've ordered a retreat into the city. It's the only safe place now."

"What about the wounded?" you ask, looking over at him as the two of you begin to run, weaving through the crowds of men heading deeper into the city, weapons in hand. "There are men on the outskirts."

"They're being taken care of," he answers. "As best we can."

You can't hide the shock that must be written all over your face, and Rex's eyes narrow.

"I'm not heartless," he snaps, stopping and turning to face you, his expression dark. You wince. "I know what's happening. What's being left behind. But right now, we don't have a choice."

"We never do," you mutter, and Rex sighs, his gaze falling to the ground. He tugs his helmet back on and adjusts the seals, the white plastoid reflecting the red of the sunset. "So what's the plan?”

"We can't hold the outer wall. Not against a full assault,” he says, and his shoulders slump. "We need to move onto phase two."

"Right," you murmur, thinking back to the plans the two of you had drawn up hours ago. A backup plan in case the initial assault didn't work. Guerrilla tactics in the streets of Duro. It hadn't seemed likely at the time. "Phase two. I'll contact the others and tell them to set up shop in the east quadrant. That's where the heaviest fighting will be."

Rex nods and leads you through a narrow alley between two buildings, the darkness swallowing you. You can hear the faint echoes of the battle in the distance, the rumble of blasterfire, the clatter of droid feet on stone, the crackle of the flames that are burning throughout the city. 

It’s quieter here, though, muffled by the stone, and you find yourself leaning closer to Rex, seeking his warmth. He glances down at you, but doesn't pull away. But he doesn’t do more than that. Price isn’t far behind you, and a squad of 501st troopers brings up the rear. There are no private conversations for either of you, not anymore. It still hurts, try as you might to push it out of your mind, your heart still sore from the sting of his earlier rejection.

The shadows around you deepen as the storm rolls in, a rumble of thunder echoing in the air. The sky opens up, and the rain begins to fall, cold and harsh and heavy. Somewhere behind you, Price lets out a sigh of relief, and you glance back to see him removing his helmet and running a hand through his damp hair.

"Oh, thank the Force," he mutters, tilting his head back and letting the water wash over his face. "That's much better."

"Don't get too comfortable, Lieutenant," Rex grumbles. "We've got a lot of work to do."

Price sighs, but nods and slips his helmet back on.

You exit onto the main thoroughfare, where a group of clones in gold armor are huddled together, and Rex pulls you to a stop underneath the battered awning of a nearby building. His hand is warm against your back as he takes a step closer to you, his gaze focused on the men ahead of you.

You watch them with a strange sense of detachment, their words sounding muffled and distant, like you're underwater. Like everything is underwater. The rain is falling in sheets now, a thick curtain that obscures the view and the noise and the chaos. A strange sort of numbness settles over you, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to focus on the steady presence of Rex next to you.

"It's bad," one of them says, and his voice cuts through the haze, his words finally registering in your mind. You shake your head, trying to focus, and the others continue.

"The droids are everywhere," another adds. "We've lost the north tower. There's no way we can hold them off."

Your stomach churns, and you open your mouth to say something, but the words won't come. Your tongue is dry and heavy in your mouth, and all you can manage is a soft whimper. The clone who'd spoken first looks at you and stiffens, and he bows his head in apology.

"Sorry, General," he murmurs. "I didn't mean—"

"No," Rex interrupts, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. You blink and turn to him, taking a shaky breath. "She knows. She's been fighting all day, just like the rest of us. Give her a minute."

He gives your arm a gentle squeeze and lets go, and you watch as he steps toward the clones. You're barely able to keep up as he begins speaking, your thoughts swimming, the voices blending together into a dull roar. All you can think about is the tower, and the men you left behind, and the ones that are still fighting out there, somewhere. Men who are going to die, who are dying right now, and there's nothing you can do about it.

In the year since the war began, you’ve suffered losses. You’ve watched ships explode in the sky and crash to the ground, you've watched your brothers-in-arms fall at your side. And each time, it hurts. But you’ve come to accept the weight of their lives and bear the burden of their sacrifice. Because you have to. Because they deserve no less. But this, today, here, it's different. These were your men. Yours.

You’ve enjoyed the luxury of minimal casualties so far, thanks to the nature of your command and the skill of your troops. You've never lost so many, not in one battle, not like this. It's not right, not fair, and it's more than you can handle. It's too much. Too soon. And you have no idea how to deal with it.

You feel like you're drowning.

Rex is talking, but his words are lost on you, and all you can hear is the roar of blood in your ears. The rain is pounding down harder now, and the wind is whipping around the corner, sending the droplets cascading across the road. You're shivering, your robes soaked and clinging to your body, and your legs are trembling. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, and you lean heavily against the building behind you, struggling to remain upright.

There’s a sudden sharp pinch in your neck, and the world lurches back into focus with a jolt.

You hadn’t even noticed Wise was among the group surrounding Rex, and it seems he took advantage of your distraction to inject you with a stimulant. Immediately, you're struck by a surge of energy, the fatigue and confusion banished from your mind, and the numbness begins to fade.

You're not sure if that's a good thing.

“Ow,” you complain, slapping a hand over the injection site. You scowl and rub your neck, turning to face the medic. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes," Wise retorts dryly as he tucks the spent stim into his pocket. "Because you weren't paying attention. Sir."

"I'm fine," you mutter, brushing him off. You ignore the dubious look he shoots your direction and turn back to the others. Rex is gesturing to a holomap projected above his gauntlet, his lips moving quickly as he lays out the plan. You watch him, a dull ache forming in your chest, and you reach up to rub your eyes.

"The droids are coming from all directions," he explains, his finger tracing a path along the glowing blue map. Several spots ping red, and the area beyond the gate is still glowing a violent crimson, the enemy forces spreading out across the field. "They've pushed past our defenses and are already inside the city. The shield is holding, but if they manage to reach the control center, it won't be for much longer."

"If we lose the shield..." another clone begins, trailing off, the rest of the statement hanging in the air between the five of you. If the shield fails, the entire planet will be exposed, and the droids will have free reign to do as they please. There's no telling how many ships are in orbit, fighting against your naval forces. If they make it to the surface, it's over.

"We can't let that happen," Rex says firmly, and the clones nod, their expressions grim. He points at a spot on the map, and a series of blue dots appear. "We'll divide into three groups and hold the perimeter. If we can keep the droids contained and out of the inner city, we'll have a chance."

"Yes, sir," one of the clones nods, his tone somber. You can tell they're all thinking the same thing. The odds aren't exactly in your favor. But none of them hesitate.

"How are you doing?" you murmur to Wise as the conversation continues around you. He grunts and shrugs his shoulders.

"Been better," he admits. "This damn storm is messing with my joints."

"Yeah," you reply with a weak chuckle, "I know the feeling."

Wise grunts again and lays his hand gently on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the fabric in a slow, soothing pattern. You lean into it, grateful for the comfort, and close your eyes. A flash of lightning lights up the street, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The rain is coming down harder now, and you can feel the ground shaking beneath your feet.

"How are you holding up, cabur'ika?" he asks, his voice dropping so that only you can hear him underneath the rain. You give a half-hearted shrug, your eyes still closed. He sighs. "You did the best you could."

"Did I?" you ask, your voice hoarse, and he hums quietly, a low, comforting noise.

"Yes," he replies simply. You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you, and lean into him. "You did.”

"I don't think it was enough."

"It's never enough," Wise murmurs, his tone resigned, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. "Not in this war. Not for any of us."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you?" you snort, and he chuckles, the warm rumble vibrating through his chest and into yours.

"You're no picnic yourself, kid," he shoots back, his voice light, teasing. You crack a weak smile. "But I've seen a lot worse. You did good today."

"Thanks," you mutter, opening your eyes to glance at him. He gives you a tired smile and pats your arm.

"Anytime," he says as he pulls away. "Don't die out there, okay?"

"I'll do my best." 

You straighten, the cold air stinging your skin where his arm had been. Rex is waiting for you, his expression unreadable behind his helmet, but you can feel his concern through the Force. He nods at Wise, who returns the gesture before turning and marching off.

"Give Kix a hug for me," you call after him, and he throws a hand up in acknowledgement. The two of you watch him walk away, the rain streaming down his armor in rivulets, and you let out a soft sigh. "Any word from the fleet?"

"Not yet," he answers. "Long range is still down."

"That's not good," you mutter, and he nods in agreement. "Ahsoka should have found the signal jammer by now. Something's wrong."

"She'll be fine," he assures you, though the words ring hollow. "I'm sure she'll check in soon, but for now, we have to assume we're on our own. We have to make do."

"Make do," you echo, and the words taste bitter on your tongue. You swallow hard and shake your head, trying to clear the worry and frustration from your mind. "Right. We can do that."

"We have to," he reminds you, his voice heavy with resignation

You fall into silence, watching the men around you as they prepare for the fight ahead. The rain continues to pour down, and you can see flashes of lightning in the distance, hear the thunder rolling overhead. You close your eyes and try to relax, centering yourself and focusing on the here and now.

The rain is soothing, the steady drumming of the droplets against the pavement and rooftops a calming white noise that helps you think. You breathe in the damp air, letting the chill seep into your bones, and you let the Force flow through you, your senses reaching out across the city.

There's no denying the darkness here, a shadow looming over the battle, but it's different somehow. Sharper. Colder. Like ice, slicing through the air, leaving a trail of death and destruction in its wake. A chill runs down your spine. Something's not right.

You let out a strangled gasp as a burst of pain lances through your chest, a sudden, searing agony that feels like a vibroblade being driven between your ribs. Your hand instinctively clutches at your chest, and you double over, struggling to take in a breath. A scream rips from your throat as the pain intensifies, and it's only a pair of arms around you that keeps you from collapsing completely.

"General!" Rex's voice cuts through the haze, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. "General, can you hear me?"

You can barely see him, your vision clouded by tears, but you manage a weak nod. Your throat is tight, and you can't find the words, the pain in your chest too great to form a coherent sentence.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asks, and you shake your head, struggling to take a breath. Your eyes squeeze shut as you force yourself to pull back, shuttering off the pain as best you can. "Medic!"

"No," you manage, gasping for air, your heart hammering in your chest. "Not mine."

"Not...yours," Rex repeats, his grip loosening slightly, though he doesn't let go. "Whose, General? What's going on?"

"We're being attacked! Droids coming in from underground!"

Your eyes open at the sound of Snap's voice, and the pain vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold numbness. You pull away from Rex, his hands sliding down your arms and falling away, and you stagger forward a step, your eyes darting around the city.

"We can't hold them off! They're everywhere," Snap shouts into the comms, his voice laced with fear and desperation. "Requesting backup!"

"They're inside," you murmur, and the horror of the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. The droids are already here. They're in the city. And you didn't see it coming. How could you not have seen it? "I have to go."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Rex says, catching your arm and pulling you back. "You're not going anywhere. I can't let you run off alone."

"I'm not alone," you snap, and the anger in your voice surprises even yourself. Rex flinches, his grip loosening, and you pull free. "They need me, Rex."

"And we need you," he counters, his tone firm. "Please. We'll send reinforcements. Just wait until—"

"They won't get there in time," you interrupt as you take a step away from him, the pain in your chest returning, burning hot and bright. More of your men are being cut down, and you can feel their deaths as keenly as if they were your own. You can't stay here and do nothing, not while your brothers are in danger. "This is what the Force has been warning me about, and I'm not about to let it happen. I have to go."

Rex takes a step toward you, his hand outstretched. You can feel his worry, and you hate yourself for causing it, but this is bigger than the two of you. This is about saving lives. You can't let your feelings, or his, get in the way of that.

His hand stills suddenly, and you can feel his surprise when he registers the weight of the Force pushing back against him. It's gentle, but unyielding, a wall of energy that stops him in his tracks. He tries to move, his boots digging into the dirt, and a sharp gasp escapes his lips. His helmet turns toward you, his visor reflecting your grim expression, and the two of you stare at each other. 

Then, with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, Rex steps back.

"Price," you say, looking over your shoulder as you step out onto the street, "come with me."

"Right behind you, sir," he says, jogging over to you, his blaster clutched tightly in his hand. 

You look back at Rex, the guilt of what you've done twisting your heart into knots, but you know it's for the best. He'd never have let you leave, and he'd have followed. He can't, not this time. You can't let that happen. If you're going to prevent this vision from coming true, he needs to stay here.

He has to survive.

"Rex," you murmur, the words sticking in your throat.

He gives a curt nod, his hands balled into fists, and his voice is strained as he replies. "Go. Hurry. Be safe."

You hesitate for a second, wanting to say more, but the words won't come. With a heavy sigh, you turn and run, and Price follows close behind.

You sprint down the street, heading in the direction of the building housing the generator. Price struggles to keep up with your pace, and you find yourself cursing his lack of speed. It's not his fault, really, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins is pushing you faster and faster, and the urge to go, go, go is overwhelming. You need to get to Snap and the others, and you need to stop whatever's happening. Before it's too late.

"What's happening?" Price pants as the two of you duck behind a piece of rubble, taking a second to catch your breath. "How are they getting in?"

"They must've drilled a tunnel or something," you mutter. "We'll have to find a way to seal it."

"Oh," he nods and swallows. He peeks around the corner and shuffles nervously. “Well, about that..."

"Price," you sigh and close your eyes for a second, pushing down the urge to scream. "Please don't tell me there's another problem."

"Um..." He shrugs. "Okay. No problem."

You groan, your hands clenching into fists. "Seriously?"

"Well, I wouldn't say there's a problem per se," he hedges. You glare at him, and he sighs, ducking his head. "It's just...the maintenance droid had been spending a lot of time in the lower levels. We left it alone because we assumed it was just cleaning or fixing things, but..."

"But now you're wondering if it was opening a secret door for the Separatists," you finish.

"Yeah," Price agrees with a wince.

"Great," you mutter.

You shake your head and peer around the edge of the rubble. A squad of droids are marching down the street toward the building, their weapons drawn. You grit your teeth and reach out with the Force, yanking the nearest one into the air. 

The droid flies across the street and slams into a wall, and the others turn and fire blindly in your direction. A few movements of your blades to send their bolts back to them, and a few well-placed shots from Price have the squad reduced to a pile of sparking metal and wires in the middle of the road.

"Come on," you say and take off toward the generator building. "We can't waste any more time."

"We’re getting cut to pieces down here!" Screwball shouts over your comm as the two of you dart down the street, dodging the stray blaster fire from the remaining droids. "They're everywhere."

"Any time you wanna show up and save us, General, feel free," Snap adds, barely audible over the sound of blasterfire. "We can't hold this position much longer."

"ETA two minutes," you call into your comm. "Don't die."

"That's the plan," Screwball grunts.

Price follows close behind you, his breathing labored as he tries to keep up with your pace. Water splashes up around you as your boots hit the pavement, and the droids continue to fire on you, the bolts whizzing past your head as they chase after you and Price. The wind is picking up, whistling in your ears, and the rain pelts against your skin with increasing intensity.

"This way," Price yells over the storm, and he turns down a narrow alley, leading you away from the main road. 

As you round the corner, you're nearly blinded by the light coming from the shield generator, the red glow of the machine bathing the street in a hellish hue. The front doors underneath its arch are open, and you can see streaks of blasterfire flying back and forth inside, a small squad of men crouched in front and firing into the room.

You duck behind the nearest building and creep closer, the pair of you hugging the wall. You peer around the corner as a barrage of blaster bolts flies out the doors and into the street, and you wince, ducking back and narrowly avoiding the spray.

"Screwball!" you shout into your comm. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and...clear, General," Screwball pants.

"How many are there?"

"Enough to be a problem," he replies, and you grimace, glancing at Price. ”You coming...any time soon...sir?"

"I’m outside," you shout back. "I need to know what we're dealing with."

"Droidekas," Screwball grunts. "More of those—fuck!—commandos too.”

”More cortosis, sir,” Dash chimes in with a burst of static. "Don’t let them near your lightsabers!"

"Thanks for the tip," you mutter. "Hold tight, we’re coming in.”

"Roger."

Another round of bolts flies out the doors, your hand balling into a fist as a body falls through the threshold, crashing into the street with a sickening thud. You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to leap into action, and instead you reach out with the Force, pulling the fallen clone to your side.

The limp form slides across the ground, coming to rest at your feet. Price lets out a choked gasp, and you glance at him to see him shaking his head.

"One of yours?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir," he mutters.

You close your eyes and swallow the lump forming in your throat, willing yourself to remain calm. You can feel the rage boiling inside you, a dark cloud spreading through your mind, and the urge to kill the droids is almost overwhelming. You force the emotions back down, burying them deep, and you take a deep breath and look at Price.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, and he nods his thanks. "Can you tell me his name?"

"It's Rivet," he replies, his voice cracking slightly.

"Okay," you say quietly, and you turn to the fallen clone, crouching down and gently turning him over onto his back. There’s no point in checking for a pulse. You let out a sigh and bow your head, saying a silent prayer for the fallen soldier, then you straighten and meet Price's gaze. "I need you to cover me."

"Of course, sir," he says without hesitation, his shoulders squaring. 

The pair of you peer around the corner. There's a break in the firing, though you can hear grunts and metal bodies falling inside the room, and you reach out, trying to get a sense of the enemy's numbers. A dozen. Two. Three. Four. It's hard to tell. Their signatures are masked by the sheer number of droids in the area. But there's at least a handful of commandos, and they're armed with cortosis.

"You ready?" you ask.

"Ready, sir."

"Good." You ignite your lightsabers, the yellow and green glow cutting through the haze of red. "Let's go."

The pair of you race toward the entrance, and the four clones tucked outside scramble to their feet and fire at the approaching droids, providing a brief reprieve for the two of you as you duck and roll inside the room. The droidekas turn and open fire, and Price drops behind a table, using the metal as a shield just as a volley of bolts heads in your direction.

"Get down!" one of the clones shouts as a barrage of blaster fire from above rains down on the droids.

You flatten yourself to the floor and press your back against the wall, ducking out of the way. Two poppers roll across the floor with precision and detonate, and the shields around the droidekas flicker long enough for one of the clones to blast the weakened panels, rendering the machines useless.

"Clear!" 

You stand, scanning the room for any remaining droids. They’re coming from the halls, and your men are holding them back, but they're struggling. One falls to a droideka's attack, and you lash out with the Force, shoving a commando away before it can land a finishing blow. The clone scrambles up and returns to the fight.

“Where’s Snap?” you shout, deflecting the shots aimed at you, keeping them from reaching the others.

“Upstairs,” one of them calls back.

You nod and take off, sprinting toward the staircase at the far end of the room.

"Wait! General!" Price cries.

"Stay with the others!"

You don't wait for a response, rushing up the steps, your boots echoing on the metal. As you near the top, a blast from above strikes the wall beside your head, and you duck, barely avoiding the shrapnel. The doors to the generator room fly open with a wave of your hand, and you slide inside, deflecting the blaster bolts headed your way. 

The scene that greets you is chaos.

Bodies of fallen clones litter the floor, wires sparking and panels smoldering as smoke fills the air. You barely have time to dodge as a blade arcs through the air, barely missing your neck. You roll and come up swinging, slicing through the commando droid's leg before stabbing it through the chest, burning through its circuits.

The droid's glaive falls at your feet, and you kick it aside, the weapon skidding across the floor and stopping at a pair of familiar boots. You glance up as Snap grabs the weapon, turning and lobbing it at a droid coming up behind you. The metal connects with a sharp crack, and you spin, slashing the creature into pieces.

"Snap!"

"Sir!"

"Nice throw," you call over the noise.

"Thanks," Snap replies. "Where's Price?"

“Here!” the lieutenant shouts as he ducks into the room, firing on the droids that are pouring in from the lower levels. He slams his fist on the control panel for the door, and it slides shut, blocking off the horde.

“I told you to stay put,” you grunt as you shove a droid into a wall.

"Couldn't," he says as he shoots another one. "You needed me."

You shoot him a disbelieving look over your shoulder, then sigh and shake your head. "We'll talk about this later.”

The droids fall in a blur of motion, their metal bodies collapsing to the floor with a series of clangs. In a few minutes, the rest of the droids scattered throughout the room join the bodies on the floor, and you let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from your brow.

“That door isn’t going to hold long,” Snap warns as he throws away the glaive he's holding. He picks up his fallen blaster rifle and checks it for damage. Satisfied, he nods. "I'd give it ten minutes, tops."

"Then we'll have to make them count," you reply. You can hear the shouts and screams of your men below. The occasional blaster shot echoes up the stairs, and Dash flinches with each one as he pops up from cover. You can feel the weight of their losses through the Force, but the pain in your chest eases slightly at the sight of him alive and unharmed. "Dash, where’s Screwball?”

"He was helping some of the men upstairs, last I saw him," Dash replies, making his way toward the generator’s control panel to inspect the damage.

"And the others?"

Dash glances over his shoulder, and he and Snap share a look before they both shake their heads. 

You feel your stomach drop as the realization sinks in, your gaze following the trail of bodies and blood splattered across the floor. The message is clear.

They're all gone. Fuse, Streaker, and the rest, all of Price’s men. All of them. Gone.

A chill runs down your spine, and the room suddenly feels colder. A shiver courses through you, and you wrap your arms around yourself, struggling to push down the fear and anger building inside you. You're so tired. Tired of losing men, of fighting, of death.

It would be so easy.

So simple.

You could just...let go. Let yourself fall, surrender to the darkness, give in to the rage and the pain and the anger. You could make them pay, all of them. The droids, the Separatists, everyone who had taken your men from you. You could bring their whole world crashing down around them. They wouldn't even see it coming.

"General?" Dash asks. His voice is distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears. "Are you alright?"

No.

"Fine," you answer automatically. You blink and take a breath, and the haze clears, the anger fading along the edges of your vision. Your fingers tighten around the hilts of your lightsabers, and you force yourself to deactivate them and clip them back to your belt. You take another breath, and the darkness retreats further, allowing you to see the helmets watching you. "What's the status on the shield?"

Dash pulls up the display, his fingers running over the keys, and you step close to peer over his shoulder. You can feel Snap’s gaze boring into the side of your head as he studies you, but you ignore him, your attention focused on the flickering blue screen.

"Still up," Dash reports. "But I don't know how much longer this thing will hold against a direct assault. If it goes critical, we're going to be in a lot more trouble."

"So no pressure," Snap mutters.

"Yeah, no pressure," you agree with a sigh. “We’re just going to have to hold the line a little while longer."

“Just the four of us?” Price asks incredulously as he looks at the small group gathered around the generator. He gestures toward the door, which is starting to bend inward from the droids outside, the metal screeching in protest. "Against that?"

“Five of us,” you correct.

“Who—“

There's a loud bang as a droid body slams onto the ground in front of you, and Price yelps, stumbling back. The four of you look up to see Screwball on the catwalk above, and he gives you a cheeky salute before jumping over the edge and landing beside the others. He rolls his shoulders and shakes his head, his gaze landing on the damaged door.

"This place is a mess," he mutters as he kicks aside a broken droid. "Sorry I'm late."

"How the hell are you still alive?" Dash exclaims with a laugh, and Screwball chuckles, slapping him on the back.

"Skill. And some luck," he shrugs. He glances around at the fallen bodies and the destroyed equipment. "Guess it wasn't as easy as we thought, huh?"

"No," Dash agrees. "It wasn't."

"It's about to get a lot worse," Snap says, nodding towards the door. You can see the outline of a laser cutter burning through the metal, and the door begins to buckle, a hole forming in the center, the edges glowing red-hot. The five of you raise your weapons and aim at the door, prepared for the worst.

As the first droid enters the room, a barrage of blasterfire meets it, and its body crumples to the floor, smoke rising from its melted frame. The next droid is met with a similar fate, and soon the pile of corpses blocks the door, providing a temporary barrier against the invaders. But you know it won't hold for much longer, and the five of you stand together, preparing for the onslaught that's sure to come.

"We'll hold the line," you say, and the others nod, their expressions grim. "We've handled worse. And I don't plan on losing today."

"General," Rex's voice comes over the comm. "What's your status?"

"Shield's still up," you reply. "And we've got some company. The generator is holding, but not for much longer. Any word from Ahsoka?"

"No," he replies, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. "Still no comms."

You ignite your sabers as a group of commando droids kick aside the bodies and step through the hole in the door. They're fast, dodging and weaving between your attacks, and you have to use the Force to block their blows and push them back. You're barely able to keep up with their speed, and one of them nearly manages to get a strike in before a blaster bolt takes its head clean off.

"We're taking heavy fire here," Rex informs you as a droid rushes forward, its blade coming down in a deadly arc. 

You bring up your shoto to parry the attack, and you wince as it shorts out immediately, sparks flying as the blade sinks back into the hilt. You quickly switch to your other lightsaber, swinging it up and catching the commando in the chest, slicing it cleanly in half.

"Unfortunately, so are we," you grumble. You reach out and yank the next droid's blade from its grasp, sending it flying across the room. "The droids are coming from all sides, and there's a tunnel that leads straight here. They're trying to take down the shield."

"A tunnel?" Rex repeats, and you hear a barrage of blasterfire over the comm, a muffled curse following the noise. "Damn it. There must be an entrance on the other side of the city."

"We're pinned down up here," you inform him, grunting as you duck under a blade aimed at your head. You spin and lash out with a kick, catching the droid in the chest and knocking it back. "They're getting past our defenses, and we can't hold out much longer. You need to find the entrance and seal it off."

"Copy that," he says, his voice tight. "Good luck, General. Stay alive. I'm not done yelling at you yet."

"Noted," you mutter, and the line goes dead.

The five of you fight against the seemingly never-ending wave of droids, your movements becoming more and more desperate as the battle rages on. Somewhere along the way, you lose your lightsaber, and you're forced to rely on the Force alone, pulling blasters and glaives and even a droid body to throw at the commandos. You can't tell how much time has passed, the only thing keeping you going being the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the need to keep your men safe.

Your head is throbbing, and the ache in your chest has returned, a sharp pain that radiates through your body. As much faith as you have in the Force, it’s not meant to be tapped into this much for this long, and you can feel your body weakening with every movement you make. You’re running out of energy, and time.

"Sir, I have a bad feeling about this!" Price calls as he shoots down another commando. "How are they still coming?"

"I don't know!" you shout, reaching out and stopping a droid midair before throwing it back into the hoarde. You wipe the sweat from your brow and shake your head, trying to clear the fog from your brain

You all yelp as a blaster bolt slams into the generator, the machine sputtering and sparks flying. A series of alarms begin to blare, and Dash curses and slides under a droid's swing. He rushes to the control panel, typing furiously, before he slams a fist down on the panel, silencing the alarms.

"This thing is a piece of shit," he hisses as he scans the readings. "We can't take another hit like that."

"So don't," Snap replies, shoving a commando out of the room and back into the hallway. "We need a plan."

"What happened?" Rex demands over the comm, his voice frantic. "We heard alarms."

"We're fine," you reply quickly. You catch a glimpse of Dash frantically working the console, his fingers flying over the keys, and you glance away, swallowing the lump in your throat. "For now. The shield is holding, but we're surrounded."

"What's the status on the generator?"

"Bad," you say as a commando slashes at your arm, its blade slicing into your skin. You grab its arm and wrench it free from its socket, kicking it in the chest and knocking it into a group of droids. "Really, really bad."

"Can you repair it?"

"Maybe," you mutter, glancing over at Dash, who gives you a thumbs up. You return the gesture. "If we had the time."

The droids continue to press the attack, and you're pushed back, your boots sliding against the floor as the five of you retreat. You duck behind the large column holding up the generator, and you slump against the cool metal, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Just focus on the tunnel," you call into the comm. "We'll figure out something here."

"Understood," Rex replies, his tone somber. You hear him call orders, and the men respond in the background, but you don't catch the words, the pounding in your head drowning everything out. "Just...stay alive. Please."

"That's the plan," you tell him, your voice cracking. "But Rex, if we can't—"

"Don't," he snaps. "Just...don't."

"Okay," you breathe, leaning your head against the column. You close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing, trying to block out the noise of the battle and the voices of your men. The only thing you can think of is the darkness that's been following you. The shadows that have haunted your dreams and clouded your thoughts. If you could use it somehow...

No. You promised Rex you wouldn't give in. You can't do it. You won't do it.

"Any ideas?" you ask the others. They look at you, their expressions grim, and the silence is answer enough.

"Nothing good," Screwball sighs, and you let out a low, humorless laugh.

"Yeah," you agree, shaking your head. "Nothing good."

"What about a distraction?" Snap suggests, his voice strained, and you turn to see him creeping toward one of the security consoles. He types quickly and pulls up a schematic of the building. "If we could draw their attention away from the generator..."

"They'd just come right back," Price argues. "There's no point."

"Not if they were focused on something else," Snap replies, pointing to the screen. "Look, there're ventilation shafts leading out of here. Someone could climb through, drop down on 'em, and start shooting."

"And get killed," Price counters. "Whoever does this would be sacrificing themselves."

"I'll do it," Screwball offers without hesitation.

"No, I'll do it," Snap says, turning to face the others. "I'm the fastest and the best shot. It has to be me."

"But," Price starts to protest.

"I can't ask anyone else to do this," Snap cuts him off. "I'm the captain. This is my responsibility."

"You're not asking," Screwball growls, and he moves closer. "I’m going too. Someone has to watch your six."

Snap sighs and shakes his head. "Fine.”

"We'll stay here," you tell them. "And keep the droids occupied. Dash, do what you can to keep the shield up."

"On it," he nods and heads for the controls.

"You ready?" Snap asks Screwball, and the other man gives him a nod, rolling his shoulders. You all take a deep breath, sharing a long look, before you bow your head.

"May the Force be with us all," you murmur.

Screwball hesitates, looking from you to Snap and back again, and then he's throwing himself at you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He yanks Dash in by the collar, and Snap joins the pile, squeezing hard. You gasp and wheeze, struggling to breathe, but the men are relentless, and you're left standing awkwardly in the center, unsure what to do.

"You guys are crushing me," you protest weakly.

"Just deal with it, sir," Snap chuckles, his helmet pressed to the back of your head. Dash just squeezes tighter, and you let out a shaky laugh and relax into it, your arms pinned to your sides.

"Get off me," Price hisses as Screwball tries to pull him into the huddle, and he squirms, smacking his helmet. "What are you doing? Stop hugging!"

"It's called team spirit," Screwball snorts and releases Price, who stumbles back and adjusts his armor, letting out a huff. "You better get used to it, kid. You're stuck with us."

"I don't need any—"

Price's words are cut off as a blaster bolt nearly clips his helmet, and the clones dive for cover, pulling him out of sight. You raise your hand and lash out with the Force, flinging several of the droids into the wall. But more keep coming, and you're soon forced to fall back, taking shelter behind one of the consoles. 

Snap crouches opposite you, and when your gazes meet, you give him a nod. He returns the gesture and checks his blaster rifle before he holds up a hand, counting down on his fingers. 

As the final finger goes down, you lift two droids off the ground, flinging them back into the crowd behind them. Snap jumps out from behind his cover, and Screwball follows, the pair of them shooting as they go.

They scramble up the staircase to the catwalk, and Price covers them, blasting a hole through the chest of a droid that was about to intercept. The men disappear from view, and you hope against hope that they'll be able to make it, that their plan will work.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur of blaster fire and droids, and you lose track of time, focused only on fighting and surviving. Your muscles are screaming, and your vision is starting to blur. You can't keep this up for much longer. You're not sure you'll last the hour.

You duck and roll as a blaster bolt flies over your head, and you reach out, plucking a droid off the ground. With a twist of your hand, it crumples in on itself, its metal body twisting with a groan in your grasp.

Your eyes widen, and you gasp, letting the droid fall to the floor. Your hands are trembling, and you clench them into fists, trying to steady yourself. That...that wasn't you. You didn't do that. It wasn't you.

But there's no denying the power you felt. The darkness is swirling inside you, filling your veins with an unnatural cold. And it wants out. It's calling to you, begging to be set free, and the thought of all that energy, all that raw, unfettered strength is almost too much. Too tempting.

A droid lands beside you and tries to slash at you with its blade, but you dodge and reach out, gripping it with the Force. Your fingers curl around its throat, the metal buckling and bending as your grip tightens. You can feel its circuits struggling to function, and a small, dark part of you relishes the sensation, reveling in its struggle. The rest of you is horrified.

With a scream, you throw the droid across the room, its body slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. You can hear its systems struggling, the lights blinking and sputtering, and it finally goes still. You stare at the motionless droid, panting heavily, and you shake your head. 

No. This isn't who you are. It can't be. You're a Jedi. You're better than this. This is just a test, a challenge, and you'll rise above it. You have to.

"Dash!" 

You spin on your heel just in time to see a droid slice down on the young clone's side. His scream pierces the air, and the blood drains from your face, a wave of terror and fury washing over you. The droid advances on him, its blade raised, and Price fires, the bolt taking its head off.

Price runs to his fallen brother and helps him up, and Dash immediately pushes away from him, stumbling toward the generator.

"No," Dash groans. His hand is pressed against his side, the blood seeping through his fingers, and he leans heavily against the machine. "No, no, no, no..."

Price is by his side in an instant, helping him stay upright, and you lash out with the Force, sending a trio of droids flying into the nearest wall. Their metal bodies clatter to the ground, and you take the opportunity to join the pair, crouching beside Dash.

"Let me see," you demand, and Dash removes his hand, wincing as the fabric pulls away from the wound. You wince as well, sucking in a breath through your teeth. The blade had sliced cleanly through the side of his stomach, and the injury is deep, blood pouring from the wound. "It's bad, but I think you'll live."

"It doesn't matter," Dash pants, pushing away from the pair of you. He slumps against the generator, his breath coming in sharp, painful gasps. "Bomb. There's...there's a bomb."

"What?" Price asks. "Where?"

"Stuck to the generator," he coughs and points. "I need to...to disable it."

You follow his gesture, and your heart drops into your stomach when you see the device attached to the machine's frame. It's blinking a series of red lights, and you have no doubt that it's counting down, ready to explode at any minute.

"We need to move," Price says.

"I can do it," Dash insists. "Just need...need time."

"We'll buy you as much as we can," you assure him, and you reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just stay calm, okay? Focus on the task, and the Force will guide you."

"Right," he nods and looks down, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I can do this."

You squeeze his shoulder and stand, moving to Price's side. The lieutenant has taken cover behind a console, and his gaze is locked on the droid forces still entering the room, a dozen at a time. They're pushing through the doors, a seemingly never-ending flow of metal bodies, and you can tell the two of you aren't going to be able to hold out much longer.

"We're not gonna last like this," Price mutters, echoing your thoughts. "This was a suicide mission from the start."

"We had to try," you say softly.

"At least the others made it," he grunts. "Small mercies."

You sigh and raise your hands, lashing out with the Force and pushing a group of droids back. They slam into the wall, and the ones behind them scramble to get out of the pile, allowing Price the chance to take them out.

"Yeah," you agree, watching the carnage unfold. You know it's only a matter of time before they break through your defenses and overwhelm you. "Small mercies."

"Sir, can you hear me? We've located the tunnel entrance," Rex reports, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. "There's a small garrison guarding it, but we're pushing through."

"Good," you breathe. "That's good."

"What's the status on the shield?"

"Not great," you reply. "We're...we're doing the best we can, but..."

Your words trail off as you look over your shoulder at Dash. He's still working on the device, pulling wires and disconnecting parts. But he's clearly struggling, his movements sluggish, and you can see the blood starting to color the white of his armor.

"But what?" Rex demands.

"But I'm not sure it'll be enough," you admit. "Rex, the droids are everywhere. We're trapped, and we're running out of time."

There's a pause, and you can practically feel the weight of the words hanging between the two of you. You take a shaky breath and close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to not let the fear and anger overwhelm you. But it's no use. Your heart is pounding, and the darkness is threatening to consume you, the shadows in your mind threatening to drag you down.

"If I don't make it—"

"Don't," Rex interrupts. "You're gonna make it."

"Rex," you say softly. "Just listen, please."

"No," he replies, his tone harsh. "I'm not gonna lose you. I'm not losing anyone else today. Do you understand me?"

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears stinging your eyes, and you press your lips together, struggling to keep your emotions in check. It's all too much, and you know you're barely holding it together. You don't have the strength to fight him, not now.

"Yeah," you reply, your voice cracking. "I...I understand."

"Good," Rex says. "Now hold on, I'm coming."

The comm goes dead, and you let out a sigh, leaning against the column and closing your eyes. It only lasts a second before a commando droid is bearing down on you, and you barely have time to react before it slices across your chest, scraping against your plate and catching the skin of your arm.

You hiss in pain as your eyes snap open, the dark cloud enveloping your mind, and you reach out and wrap your fingers around the droid's throat, squeezing. The metal begins to bend and crack, and a wave of dark satisfaction washes over you, the cold emptiness inside you spreading like ice through your veins. You can feel the darkness taking control, and for once, you don't try to stop it.

The droid struggles in your grasp, its limbs flailing as it tries to free itself, but you just tighten your grip, relishing the power surging through you. You can feel the Force flowing through your fingertips, the pressure building in your skull, and you can sense every cell, every fiber, every molecule in the room. It's a heady feeling, and it's only strengthened by the anger and frustration coursing through you.

You release your grip and watch as the droid collapses, its systems sputtering and sparking. You turn and throw out your hand, and a blast of energy erupts from your palm, striking the cluster of droids advancing on you. Their bodies crumple to the floor, and you step forward, your boots splashing in the pool of blood spreading across the floor.

Before you can make it further, the beeping of the bomb reaches your ears, and you turn to see Dash struggling to disconnect the device. His fingers are stained red, and his hands are shaking, but he's trying, fighting to disarm the weapon before it explodes.

"No," you whisper, your heart breaking. You know it’s too late now, the timer almost run down. "Dash, you have to get out of here."

"Almost...got it," he pants. "Almost..."

You look back down at Dash, then at the doorway where droids are trickling in, slower this time. The sounds of Snap and Screwball flanking them on the other side reach your ears, the pair of them yelling and shouting as they take down the droids. You can feel their exhaustion and determination, their drive to complete their mission, and you know that they won't give up, that they'll do whatever it takes to hold the line.

But is it worth the cost? Is it worth the risk? Are you willing to sacrifice everything, sacrifice the people you care about, for a cause that may not even succeed? For a planet that may be lost anyway?

Your eyes find Dash again. His fingers falter as he struggles to disconnect the last wire, and you know, deep down, that this isn't right. That none of this is right. That it never has been.

The darkness within you recedes, and a cold acceptance washes over you, weighing you down. You can't continue like this. You can't continue to sacrifice the lives of your men, can't continue to put them in harm's way for a cause that seems increasingly futile. You have to stop this. You have to do the right thing.

You take a deep breath, and the resolve settles deep in your chest, a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach.

"Get away from the generator.”

Dash freezes and looks up at you. "What?"

"Get away from the generator," you repeat, raising your voice. "Now!"

"I'm almost done," he insists, and his gaze flickers back to the device. "I can do this. I just need more time."

"There is no time," you snap, and you reach out, using the Force to yank him away from the generator and drag him toward you. He cries out, and you flinch, hating yourself for the pain you're causing him, but you know you can't let him continue. "It's going to explode. We have to get out of here."

"No," Dash chokes out. "I can't. I won't leave. I have to—"

He gasps as you wrap your arms around him, dragging him to his feet and pulling him toward the exit. His hands reach for the generator, trying to get away from you, but his injuries have left him weakened, and he can't break free from your grasp.

"Sir, I can't leave," he pleads. "Please, I have to—"

"We're going home," you interrupt, your voice firm. You won't let him throw his life away, not for this. Not for something that's not worth the cost. "All of us."

"But the shield—"

"The shield is already failing," you tell him. "The bomb is going to go off anyway. At least we can live to fight another day."

He hesitates a moment, but you feel the fight leave him, and his shoulders slump as he gives in. You adjust your grip, holding him upright, and the pair of you stumble toward the exit, dodging the shots aimed at you. Price runs ahead of you, trying best he can to provide cover, and the three of you manage to make it back into the hallway, where Snap and Screwball are still fighting.

"We're leaving!" you shout. "Fall back!"

“What?” Snap asks, his head whipping around. He stiffens when he catches sight of Dash’s injured form and quickly turns, firing a shot over his shoulder as he joins the group.

"Go," you command, and the five of you start moving down the hallway. The droids are in disarray now, confused by the sudden retreat, and the men quickly put distance between them. "Now!"

The five of you run through the hallways, your footsteps echoing off the walls. The blasterfire continues, but you keep your head down, focusing only on getting out. You can feel the energy gathering around the bomb, a pressure building in the back of your mind as the timer winds down. You're not sure if it'll even matter at this point. If you get far away or stay close, the blast will surely be enough to kill all of you.

But you have to try.

"Come on!" Price shouts, pushing you forward.

"Go!" Snap orders.

You run down the hall as fast as you can, the droids hot on your heels, and your lungs burn, your muscles screaming for relief. Dash tries to keep up as best he can, but he's still unsteady on his feet, and he stumbles, nearly falling before you grab him and yank him upright.

"Stay with me, soldier," you growl, and he grunts in response. "I've got you."

You're near the end of the corridor, the exit just ahead, the crackle of lightning shining through and beckoning to you, and the men pick up the pace, desperate to escape.

You're so close.

Just a little further.

And just as you're about to reach the doorway, the explosion hits.

It's like a wave of fire and ice, a pressure so intense that it shatters the very air itself. You drop Dash and throw up your hands, instinctively using the Force to create a barrier around the five of you. But the force of the blast is too great, and the shockwave ripples through the shield, breaking it apart and sending all of you tumbling to the floor.

The air is knocked from your lungs as your body slams into the ground. There's a flash of light, and for a brief, horrifying instant, the world goes white. Rubble falls around you, and the ground beneath your feet is shaking, the walls and ceiling groaning under the strain. Everything is moving too fast, and you're helpless to do anything but lay there, the shock keeping you frozen in place.

And then it's over.

You fall forward and hit the floor with a grunt, the weight of your armor driving the breath from your lungs. You roll onto your back, coughing and gasping for air, and your vision begins to return, the world slowly coming into focus. 

You can see the sky.

It takes you a moment to register the droplets of water on your face, and you watch, stunned, as a cloud passes overhead, the sight of it unimpeded by the haze of smoke or warbling barrier. 

The shield is down

Duro is exposed.

A loud crack rings out in the silence, and a piece of rubble hanging from where the ceiling used to be finally gives and falls. It lands with a thud as a plume of dust billows out, coating the ground and settling over your prone form.

The noise seems to break the spell holding everyone in place. Screwball and Price are the first ones up, stumbling to their feet and reaching for their weapons. Price's helmet is dented, and he tosses it aside with a sigh before reaching for Dash and hauling him upright. The young clone is trembling, his hands shaking as he holds his wounded side, and you can't tell if it's from fear or pain. Maybe both.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

"You did good," Price says softly. "You did your best."

"Is he okay?" you ask. Your words come out strained, and you struggle to pull yourself upright, the ache in your body slowing your movements. You can feel bruises forming beneath your armor, the dull throb of a broken rib and the sharp sting of cuts and scrapes. But the pain is nothing compared to the guilt weighing on your heart.

"I'm fine," Dash replies, his voice tight. "I just need a minute."

Price glances at you, and the two of you share a look. You can tell he's thinking the same thing you are. Dash is not fine. None of you are fine.

"Where's the Captain?" Screwball asks, turning to scan the rubble.

You stiffen and scramble to your feet, ignoring the pain shooting through your side. You're about to call out his name, but the words die in your throat as you spot Snap lying on the ground, unmoving. You stumble toward him, your heart racing, and kneel beside his body, your hand shaking as you reach out and touch his arm.

"Snap," you murmur, and he stirs, hissing in pain.

"I'm okay," he breathes, and his hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "Just...just got the wind knocked outta me."

"Good," you sigh, relieved, and he sits up, his movements slow and careful. His helmet is missing, and the hair on the side of his head is singed, a gash bleeding down his cheek. He reaches up and gingerly touches the wound, hissing in pain.

"We should move," Price says, glancing around. "The droids will be here soon."

"I need a medic," Dash groans.

"You need a fucking bacta tank," Screwball mutters. He unbuckles Dash's damaged chest plate and tosses it aside, wincing at the bloody mess underneath. Price pulls a wad of bacta patches and gauze from his pouch, and the two of them try their best to dress the wound, applying pressure and packing the gauze tightly around the cut.

"It's gonna hurt like a bitch, but this should hold until we can get you to the medical tent," Price informs him.

"Better than nothing," Dash mumbles, and his gaze drifts to the charred husk of the generator. A frown pulls at his lips, and you can see the guilt and shame etched into his features. You can't blame him. You're feeling the same thing.

"Hey," you say, nudging him. He looks at you, his eyes wet, and you offer him a sad smile. "Don't. It wasn't your fault."

"If I had just..."

"It wasn't your fault," you repeat. "I made the call. And I don't regret it."

Dash lets out a shaky breath and nods, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Okay," he says. "Okay."

"We need to go," Price says again. Some of the rubble around you is beginning to shift, and you all share a nervous look. "Now."

You take one last glance at the ruins of the generator before turning away.

"Let's go."

You head outside, and the first thing that hits you is the smell. Burning metal and rubber and chemicals, thick in the air and stinging your eyes. The rain has lessened somewhat, but it's still pouring down, the droplets washing away the dirt and ash clinging to your armor. The smoke is thick, and the ground is littered with the remains of droids and vehicles, some of them still smoldering.

There's a heaviness in the air, and you know it's not just the lingering effects of the explosion. Something is bearing down on you, loss, despair, grief, a sense of finality that settles over your shoulders like a lead weight.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly as you walk, trying to clear the heaviness from your mind. Your grip tightens around Snap's waist as you trudge down the ramp, and he leans into you, his body heavy and limp. The others are just as battered, their movements sluggish and weary, and you can't bring yourself to push them, not after everything they've been through.

Dash lets out a cry of pain and doubles over, and you stop, turning to see Price half carrying him, the younger clone's arms slung over his shoulder. His face is ashen, and his teeth are clenched, blood seeping through the bandage wrapped around his waist. You can feel the pain radiating off him, and it's enough to make your own injury flare, a stabbing sensation that shoots down your side.

Biting your lip, you reach out with the Force in an attempt to ease his suffering, to give him a measure of relief. But the darkness inside you rises up, fighting against your control, and you struggle, your hand shaking.

"I'm fine," Dash pants, catching your gaze. "I can make it."

You release the Force, and a wave of fatigue washes over you, your head spinning and your limbs feeling leaden. It takes everything you have not to collapse, and you take a deep breath, trying to regain your balance. You and Snap fall back against the side of a building, the pair of you leaning heavily on each other for support.

"Just a little further," Snap whispers.

"Just a little further," you echo.

Snap lets out a pained groan, and his legs give out from under him. You lunge for him, trying to catch him, but your own legs are shaking, and you hit the ground hard. The two of you sit there a moment, staring at each other in silence.

"You okay?" you finally ask.

"I'm fine," he says, and he offers you a weak smile. "Just a little tired."

"Yeah," you agree, and the two of you look up, taking in the chaos around you. "It's been a hell of a day."

The city is in ruins, the buildings crumbling and the streets strewn with debris. The smell of smoke and ash is thick in the air, and the rain has turned to a steady drizzle, coating everything in a fine mist. The battle is still raging on the outskirts of the city, the booming of cannons and blaster fire echoing in the distance. A heavy feeling of dread settles in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel the darkness creeping closer, its tendrils wrapping around you.

You turn, looking up and squinting into the rain. There's nothing but clouds, smoke and shadows. But the feeling doesn't abate. If anything, it gets stronger, a deep, unsettling chill that burrows into your bones and sinks into your very soul.

"Sir, what is it?" Snap asks, his voice strained.

"I don't know," you murmur, your eyes still searching the darkness. "Something's wrong."

"Wrong how?" Price asks, his brow furrowed in confusion. "We're losing. That's about as wrong as it gets."

"No," you shake your head. "Not that. Something else."

"Look, whatever it is, we need to keep moving," Screwball says. He and Price are both supporting Dash, and the young clone is slumped against their shoulders, his eyes fluttering. "This is no place to linger."

"He's right," Snap says, his voice soft. "We should keep going."

You nod and take a deep breath, forcing yourself back onto your feet. Your side is screaming in protest, and you grit your teeth and ignore it, taking Snap's hand and helping him up. But just as you're both about to step forward, the roar of an engine sounds overhead.

You watch as one of your gunships breaks through the clouds high above, circling the area and firing into the streets. You can hear the droids shouting, the clank of their metal feet on the ground as they scramble for cover. The ship moves closer, and the cannon turret spins, aiming directly at the group.

"We're saved," Price breathes.

"We have to get their attention," Screwball says, and he and Price adjust their grip, hoisting Dash up higher. "Come on!"

They move, dragging Dash with them, and you and Snap follow, doing your best to keep up. The gunship continues its descent, and the men wave their hands and shout, trying to get its attention.

"Over here!" Screwball bellows. "We're over here!"

"Hurry!" Price adds.

You're all running now, dodging the wreckage and debris scattered across the street. The ship is getting closer, the whine of its engines deafening, and you can feel the wind from its thrusters kicking up dust and debris.

Snap shifts in your arms as he cranes his neck to get a better look, and his hand suddenly tightens on your shoulder, pulling you to a stop. "What the hell is that?"

"What?" you ask as you tilt your head, trying to follow his gaze. Water drips into your eyes, and you wipe it away, squinting against the rain. "What are you talking about?"

Another flash lights up the sky, and the world is plunged into darkness again, the wind whipping around you. There's a crackle in the air, and the smell of ozone burns your nose. You feel a sudden chill run down your spine, a sense of foreboding that sends a shiver through your body.

"There," Snap says, and he lifts a shaky hand, pointing somewhere beyond the ship. 

At first, you don't see it, but as your eyes adjust, you can make out a bright light, a small speck that seems to be moving through the sky. It's not the Republic ship. It's not a part of the battle. It's something else. Something new. Something...familiar.

"Oh no," you breathe as the realization dawns on you. "No, no, no."

You know that light.

You've seen it before.

And it means only one thing.

Snap lets out a choked gasp, and the others stop their yelling, their attention locked on the approaching object. It's getting closer now, the light flickering as it cuts through the clouds, a strange, high-pitched buzzing filling the air.

"Is that—"

The missile hits the ship circling overhead with a deafening boom, and the sky is lit up by the explosion, the shockwave rocking the ground beneath your feet. The ship is engulfed in flames, and the remains plummet to the earth, crashing into the streets below.

You're frozen in place, unable to move or speak or think, and all you can do is watch as the debris rains down, the fiery wreckage falling to the ground like meteors. The smoke rises, thick and black, obscuring the sky, and the rain does little to extinguish the flames.

"Oh, shit," Screwball whispers, and his voice cracks. More and more lights are beginning to appear, dotting the clouds like stars. "There's...there's dozens of them."

A sickening sense of horror washes over you as you watch the projectiles fly through the sky, the rain streaking past their blazing forms. Your mouth is dry, and your heart is pounding, a dull, throbbing ache pulsing through your body. And you know with a cold certainty that this is what the Force has been warning you about, the visions you've had for months, the future that's always hovered just out of reach.

This is it.

You're here.

And there's nothing you can do to stop it.

"They don't want to take Duro," you say softly, and the words are barely a whisper, carried away by the wind and rain. "They want to erase it."

mando'a translation: cabur = protector/guardian (cabur'ika is essentially little guardian but idk to me it's just a more fond/familiar way of saying it)

taglist: @cyaretra @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @dustmusings @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831

[ronearoundblindly]

Lexi's 2-4-6-8 Sleepover Celebration!

It's EVENT TIME, dearies! A chance for me to give this another try, I've built something special (but also simple) just for you. There's very few rules and limitations, sky's the limit on prompts and quotes, the full gamut of genres and lengths, and the only requirement is fun.

Is 2,468 a random number? Kinda, but it goes along with a cheer that asks a very important question: who do we appreciate?!

Let's show 'em together, shall we...

**I will answer these asks in whatever way I want UNLESS YOU SPECIFY wanting fluff-only, smut-only, etc, so please do not hesitate to include those preferences!**

2

Either/Or

Make me choose between two blorbos for any reason. Could be like a Who Would idea, or a 'which one would say this' quote, or a whole AU scenario. It'll be tough, but I'm ready!

4

3+1!

Give me a 'three times they didn't and one time they did' prompt in an ask. These could include '3x they did and 1x they didn't' too btw.

6

June--also my birthday month!

While June might be different for folks in different hemispheres, let's play with the solstices, yeah? Give me a 'long daylight' or 'long nighttime' scenario/activity 😉 to match with a blorbo. If you give me the blorbo, I'll match them with the scenario/activity. Be sure to mention day or night...because I'll choose if you don't 😏!

8

Or--if you tilt your head--infinity

Send me a blorbo and an AU or scenario you could read a thousand times over and never get sick of. Sucker for coffee shops? Do it. Have a deep-seated need for hurt/comfort? Let's dance. Want them to have a sweet (or spicy) kissssss?? You know I'm down, gang.

There are some themes I do not usually write for, but I'm making it my mission for this event to stretch my creativity and try. It's going to be so exciting. We shall explore together...which brings me to...

20*

This one's the most fun but a little out there. 2+4+6+8=20, so how about you write me a blurb showing your love for a blorbo in twenty minutes flat (or more because who's gonna know)! Stream-of-consciousness or narrative-style, whatever strikes your fancy. Focus on just them or their interactions with a reader, enjoy it all! Just please tag # Lexi's 2-4-6-8 Sleepover and @ronearoundblindly so I may see and share it easily. 💜

The sleepover will last from

Saturday, May 31st to Monday, June 2nd

(with wiggle room to finish and post my responses until the end of the week—just for safety). Your 20-minute blurbs are welcome until the end of June!

[theloganator101]

In a previous ask I made awhile back, I’d explained how Vaggie’s voice was just Vivziepop having Stephanie reusing Gina Cazador’s voice from Bojack Horseman, how Vaggie's voice should've been more like Gosalyn’s voice from DuckTales’ 2017, as well as how in my own rewrite of Vaggie, who I’d renamed to Violetta ‘Violey’ Torres, she's a Mexican American winner angel who lives a secret double life helping her girlfriend, Charlie, in their dream to bring back the Purgatory redemption system.

This is supposed to act as a follow up to that previous ask, as I want to say something that I forgot to mention in the previous one, particularly with how Violey would feel about her canon counterpart known as Vaggie.

To be honest, Violey wouldn't like her canon counterpart at all, especially with how she's been a massive hypocritical bitch who’d lied to Charlie about the fact that she was an exorcist who’d slaughtered thousands of her people for years.

The exorcist thing alone wouldn't sit well with Violey at all, especially considering that in my rewrite, as I've mentioned before, while she had been approached into joining the exorcists, she ended up passing them down due to a deep dark feeling in her gut telling her not to accept the offer, which she listened to. Remember folks, always pay attention to your intuition or instincts, as it might help you throughout life.

And not only that, but another thing that she dislikes about her canon self is the whole unhealthy codependency that she has on Charlie, and that especially includes the child coddling which Violey finds to be very disturbing.

Hell, even Violey's relationship with my rewrite of Charlie is much healthier than the relationship of their canon counterparts. This is because Violey is much more honest to Charlie, who knows that she's a winner angel. While with Charlie, she's a lot more mature and responsible, and not only that, but actually listens to Violey. And as a bonus, they actually know how to compromise.

Oh, and speaking of my version of Charlie, do not get me started on how she feels about her canon counterpart, as it's already hard enough working to bring back the Purgatory redemption system after it was wrongfully discarded for reasons unknown, it's even harder when the man-childish canon version of yourself is running around, claiming that she came up with the idea of redeeming sinners, even though Purgatory has been around for centuries.

(Also, if you happen to have any questions regarding my rewrite, my ask box is open, so feel free to ask and I'll be happy to answer them whenever I could get around to them)

Already your version of Charlie and Vaggie sounds like a VAST improvement from canon.

And Swap!Vox would be kind of the same way towards Canon!Vaggie since he takes her place in my story. He would NOT be sympathetic towards her for one bit, considering how she was going to KEEP lying and didn't even seem remorseful about it.

[emtb319]

WIP Wednesday

“I’m trying Lucy, I really am.  That ship should have been out here long ago.”  He didn’t know that Brayman had received his message, and he was carrying it back to Earth.  The code meant to wake the astronauts was misinterpreted by the robot.  “I wish I could see our boys.  You’re still watching over them, right?”  Her star blinked at him.  “Thank you my love.  I’m trying to hold out, but it gets harder and harder with each passing day.  Maybe tracking time was a bad idea.”

It took some time for Jeff to realize how depressed he’d actually become.  One of the first things he did was put the clock away.  He became less and less obsessed and depressed about the passage of time, once he couldn’t see it anymore.

“Remember when Scott broke his arm?  I had just gotten home from one of my moon missions.  He was going on and on about the airplane show and the jumpers.”  Jeff smiled and laughed at the memory.  The house had gone eerily quiet, then they found Scott on the roof with his ‘parachute’.  Before anyone could stop him, Scott jumped off.  His makeshift parachute failed, but he got off easy, with only a broken arm.  It didn’t stop him though.  He would attempt it again 6 months later, but that attempt only resulted in a few bumps and bruises.

“And the first engine that Virgil fixed?”  Grandpa Grant had previously given him some engine parts to take apart, fix, and reassemble.  So, when his Mom complained about a weird noise from the engine, Virgil decided that he could fix it.  “There were parts scattered everywhere.  In just a few short hours, he had more than half of the engine torn apart and scattered around the garage and front yard.  I saw the video of your face.”  He laughed.  Her reaction had been priceless.  “In all fairness though, he did fix the part that made the weird noise, created a few thousand dollars worth of other damage, but he fixed the bad part.”

“John’s perch in the barn.  My favorite telescope had gone ‘missing’, and I was going absolutely crazy trying to find the thing.”  Gordon kept pointing outside, and Jeff and Lucy thought that he was asking to play in the sandbox, but they couldn’t watch him while they searched.  In the end Gordon dragged Scott out to the barn and pointed at the roof.  John had done a pretty good job with his perch and had their father’s telescope set up.  He was buried deep in his star charts and books.  “He wanted to see the meteor shower up close.  I swear, he would have snuck aboard my rocket, if he could.”  Jeff fell into a state of giggles.  “Seeing him up there, I couldn’t be mad.”

“And Gordon’s first aquarium.  He was so upset that his little carnival fish died when he tried to keep it in that little container.  He cried so much that night.”  The nearest store that sold decent aquariums was about an hour away, but it was totally worth it.  Jeff told him that morning that they were going on a special trip together, and Gordon just sulked while Jeff tied his shoes.  His eyes lit up when they entered the store.  Jeff had already decided on the size, and he let Gordon work with the salesperson for the rest.  A few days later, it was delivered.  Every person that came into our home for the next 6 months got his grand tour of his aquarium.

“Alan’s first trip to one of my launches.  I don’t know what was worse, Lee realizing that he lost Alan, or Lee nearly having a heart attack when he found Alan.”  Alan was a very excited toddler.  He was never allowed to visit his dad at work, but today not only was he allowed to visit, but he was allowed to see his father’s rocket up close, and would see it launch in a few days.  It was all he could talk about.  When they were shown around, Alan had gotten upset that he wasn’t allowed to get into it and sit in the cockpit.  So, when Uncle Lee was on babysitting duty, he slipped away.  Lee would later find him in the cockpit, seatbelt properly placed, playing with the launch controls, which he had managed to turn on.  Hence, the near heart attack.  Alan was less than thrilled when Lee picked him up and took him back to his brothers.  NASA was surprisingly not upset over it, and even invited Alan to come back to help them beef up their security.

“I just want to see them one more time, but I suppose I will get that chance when I join you Luce.”

[valeriecherishes]

i find it fascinating that i think a good chunk of choices in s8 with buck and eddie were specifically designed around the idea of trying to actively avoid queerbaiting accusations, which i've never seen done before in any other show. they weaved it into the storylines themselves and still people were so one track minded that no matter what they did, it would always be deemed queerbaiting in their eyes.

i think the reality is that, even if both actors were down for buddie canon and the writers wanted to do it, it would be unlikely that the higher-ups would be cool with taking two of their young, hot, heartthrob-y main cast members who had previously only dated women coming out as some form of not-straight 7+ seasons into the show on a network procedural. it would be nice if we lived in that world, but i can't see that being the case.

i think in s7 they thought having buck come out as bi and still giving buddie ample scenes by doing that "at least one scene per episode" thing would still leave people satisfied- gives some validation for fans seeing buck as queer through the years while still giving plenty of nice scenes for the popular fanon ship, even if they remained platonic. but ofc due to the one-track-mind of it all, bi!buck was viewed as a direct line to buddie. more fans came into the fandom with this thought in mind due to that idea being pushed. but as it became increasingly clear that it was not in fact a direct line to buddie, the fandom gets increasingly more loud and entitled.

so now we have 8a where suddenly they have less one-on-one scenes again. eddie looking at a bikini magazine in a bucktommy scene. the next episode bucktommy break up and we have eddie declaring his straightness in the same episode- a very clear indication of the writers saying "hey! don't take buck showing up at eddie's door post-breakup as romantic, this is not a romantic scene!" because of their full knowledge that the fanbase would think buddie was imminent as soon as buck was single again. that doesn't work because the fandom ignores and spins eddie's statement (and ryan's a thousand "brothers" references), and so we get 8x11 to really drive it in. they even tried to let them down nicely by having maddie say "it wouldn't be so crazy", because no, it's not a crazy thought but it just isn't true. but nope, the message is ignored again, in fact it's been spun as a buddie win!

not to mention the continuous pattern of seeing less one-on-one buddie scenes by inserting other characters into their scenes to make them feel less intimate, establishing new friendships like buck/ravi, giving a fight scene to buddie that was aggressive and actively not romantic at all. i think so many of the choices made for their scenes this season were so indicative of the writers' active awareness of the fan dynamics at play and not wanting to give people the wrong idea and narratively show that it was not the direction the show was going.

but i think this is a lesson that, when a fanon ship fandom reaches a certain level like buddie has, nothing is really going to sink in for them. there's too much groupthink, grifters, sunk cost fallacies, social capital, and shared motivations to stay in the game no matter what for them to truly get the hint en masse.

i just hope that the writers have now realized this and stop letting this loud segment of the fandom influence the writing and direction of the show in any particular way. it's a useless endeavor, and it's not worth getting influenced by because they will never be happy with what the show actually is when they've made up their own version of it that is not based in reality.

[aethon-recs]

What a wonderful list of fun social media-themed Tomarrymort recs, all delightfully creative reads. Tagging @blogalinda @duplicitywrites @exarite @k3uuu @kushimanii so that they can see this as well.

Squeezing in some additional recs along this theme:

📱 angel on a satellite by @houndsofheaven (E, 17k, WIP)

Harry Potter texts the wrong phone number and strikes up an unexpected friendship with a man named Tom. Tom is a private sort, never revealing much about himself. Despite this, Harry finds himself falling for him anyway. Tom Riddle is a world-renowned actor who is highly dedicated to his work. He doesn't have any interest in cultivating personal relationships. They're only a distraction. Yet, a simple text exchange with a cheeky university student turns his world upside down and strikes a burning obsession.

💸 cult classic by @aitafrog (G, 3k complete)

For his whole life, Harry’s been looking forward to leaving behind the Dursleys and making his own fresh start. Perhaps he’d get an accounting degree and go into banking, or maybe he’d study criminal psychology and become a cop. He’d envisioned endless opportunities ahead of him, with countless ways of reinventing himself. But for all of his daydreams and plans, he never quite imagined his fresh start involving the infamous cult leader Tom Riddle.

🎮 gaming buddies by @reggieblk (M, 19k, complete)

All it takes is a rude comment under a YouTube video for Harry and Tom to meet their best friend and, incidentally, the love of their lives. Through thousands of hours of playing Minecraft together, getting to know each other, and finally meeting in real life, it was inevitable they'd fall in love.

🎬 Love Don't Die by @moontearpensfic (E, 15k, WIP)

Imagine the person you love most. Now magnify that times infinity to the edge of the universe and back around, and you'll have something of an idea of how I feel for the magnificence that is Harry James Potter. or Harry Potter guest stars on Tom Riddle's award-winning show, oblivious to the monster that lies behind his angelic, cinnamon roll face.

💬 Personal Assistant by @phantomato (E, 10k, complete)

“And that’s it? I call ‘Tom’ and you show up?” “Yes,” Tom answers.

🎥 Pom-Poms & Perverts (Part 1) / An Alley & Anal (Part 2) by @known-concepts (E, 10k, complete)

Tom is enrolled into another school, and he's itching to get expelled again, he's so close to provoking some moid meathead into giving him what he wants, so close to flicking open his pocket knife and sinking it into flesh, when he steps in. Harry Potter, general good person, and the only male cheerleader in the entire school.

🎻 Steps to Parnassus by @solelyseeking (M, 8k, WIP)

Tom Riddle doesn’t believe in love at first sight- but he does believe in obsession. He’s been fixated on Harry Potter since he first saw him play: dark hair curling over the tips of his ears, violin tucked neatly under his chin. In the competitive world of the Conservatory, their final year brings them an unexpected twist. What happens when Harry gets too close to uncovering the depth of Tom’s affection? Harry believes they’re rivals. Tom knows the truth is far worse that that.

💻 The Dark(web) Lord by @allthesmilesxo (E, 10k, WIP)

Tom Riddle isn't gay. But he doesn't mind if his YouTube subscribers think that Lord Voldemort is. After all, anything goes when it comes to clout, baby. What will happen when he accidentally discovers a cute twink in desperate need of saving from a problematic mommy blogger? Or: "How a phony call-out video inadvertently led me to the love of my life"

SMS: Inspo recs

This fest aims to see more tomarrymort social media AUs created, but there are a bunch of great ones already~ Peruse the links below for some inspiration (or just because -- there's something for everyone here) <3

In alphabetical order:

almost got in a knife fight after work (a thread), chaoscookiescrimes

Dark Livestream and DL Extended Universe, Anna_Hopkins Hogwarts Valley, @chaos-bear, @curioushabitforarivergod, @cindle-writes, @aitafrog, @take-the-unknow-road-now, Lytri, @known-concepts, @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger, @tommarvoloriddlesdiary, @valkyrie-chemist

Lover’s Spit, Amelinda and k3u

Musician/Social Media AU, @theonceandfuturequeenoftarts Part I | Part II | Part III

Never Gonna Give You Up, @laeveteinn

No amount of therapy can help, @the-wig-is-a-metaphor

Riddle Me This (alternately, the world's best/worst podcast), @goldenzingy46

Smells Like World Peace, duplicity

Thank You, Slimes, For Sending Me to My Death So That I Could Meet This Gorgeous Man., Kushimani

the crushing weight of cancelling your fav, @cindle-writes

To give and to take, @known-concepts

Waiting For You, orphan account

xxx puddlemere star seeker nudes leaked, exarite

Please feel free to add recs, as this is only a selection of the social media/Internet fics to be found in tomarrymort land~

[gauntletgirlie]

Anyone else think about writing fan fiction but then realise your OC would just end up being an idealised/better version of yourself and also you keep attacking the story with different plot lines because ultimately you just want to end up with the character you’re obsessed with and you can’t make up your mind what the best/most compelling/most satisfying way for that to happen would be, so you keep the stories in your head?

Besides, your ideas are too insane for anyone to like, surely, even though you’ve written whole scenes in your head and you think they might actually be quite good alright?

Just me?