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jetii · 3 days ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Seventeen: Downpour

Chapter WC: 12,129

Chapter Tags/Warnings: battle stuff, kinda angsty but compared to last chapter this is nothing

A/N: Once again there is a lot going on here. 💀 I've been looking forward to posting this chapter for ages, so I hope you enjoy!

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Kamino, 21 BBY

It's raining. Of course it's raining.

You can't even remember a time you were on Kamino that it wasn't. It's a strange world, a planet of extremes. Cold, wet, and miserable. And yet, there's a beauty to it. The way the waves crash against the buildings, the roar of the wind, the smell of the salt water.

It's been over a month since the siege of Null, and you haven't been able to rest. Not truly. Your mind has been racing, the memory of finding Yaddle's things haunting your every waking moment.

You haven't slept for longer than an hour or two at a time, and even when you do manage to fall asleep, the nightmares are worse. The severing you felt the moment she died finds you in your sleep, but it's not her death, it's Rex's. Or Obi-Wan's. Or Anakin's. Or Ahsoka's. They're dead, and it's because of you. Because you weren't strong enough, or fast enough, or smart enough.

And the dreams always end the same.

With the severed bond, with the loss, with the anguish.

It's not fair, and you're angry, but more than that, you're frustrated. You can't bring the evidence to the Council's attention without requesting a hearing, and the Council seems content with keeping you away from Coruscant. They've been keeping you too busy, assigning the 212th to a dozen missions, never allowing you to have a moment's peace.

And, you can't help but wonder if it's because they know. If they know what you have. It's irrational, of course, but the anxiety won't stop gnawing at you, the worry growing by the day.

As a result, you've become increasingly paranoid, and you're constantly checking your belongings, checking the box underneath your bed aboard the Negotiator, making sure everything is where it should be. Obi-Wan's noticed, of course, but he's too occupied with his own inner turmoil over what happened with Duchess Satine to worry too much about yours.

Cody's noticed too, but he's been kind enough not to say anything. You suspect Rex has told him to leave it alone, which you're grateful for. You don't have the energy to explain yourself, not when there's so much else to worry about.

And right now, there is plenty to worry about.

"Sir, look out!"

A trooper in a full white kit grabs your arm and yanks you back just as a stray bolt nearly clips you in the head. You stumble backwards, landing hard on your ass, and you blink, trying to clear the rain from your eyes.

A pair of hands grab you, pulling you to your feet.

"Sorry, sir," the trooper apologizes. His helmet obscures his face, but you can tell he's embarrassed. "Didn't mean to manhandle you."

"It's alright," you assure him. "Better than getting shot in the head."

He nods and returns his attention to the firefight, raising his rifle and squeezing off a round. The droid at the far end of the platform drops, a smoking hole in its chest, and the trooper lets out a satisfied grunt before turning back to you.

"Stay close. I'll cover you," he says, and he moves past you into the chaos. You blink, trying to process what just happened, but then the sound of blaster fire reaches your ears, and you duck, your senses snapping back into focus.

The two of you weave through the melee, the air thick with the acrid stench of smoke and the metallic tang of blaster fire. It's slow going, and the shots are coming fast and thick. More than once, the trooper has to grab you and pull you to the ground, the heat of a bolt singing your ear.

You're starting to feel frustrated, and embarrassed. You should be able to handle yourself better. You've been trained since birth to deal with these situations. And yet, here you are, relying on some poor shiny to drag you around like a baby.

It's shameful.

A blast comes from above, and you throw up a hasty shield, deflecting the energy bolt. The trooper ducks, hissing, and you reach out with the Force, yanking him behind a twisted heap of droid parts at the same time as you shove the sniper off the roof.

"Sorry," you say as you land hard next to him, your knees screaming in protest. "Normally, I'm better at this."

"At what? Being shot at?"

You huff. "Being a Jedi."

The trooper laughs, and then turns and leans around the pile of scrap, firing his rifle. "I don't know, General. Seems like you're doing just fine to me."

"That's...generous of you," you mutter. You lean back, taking a moment to catch your breath.

It's not easy to focus. Everything is chaos. Screams, explosions, blaster fire. The time you all had to prepare for the siege had not been nearly enough, and the blockade had been brutal. By the time you'd arrived on the planet, the battle was already in full swing.

You and Cody had only just managed to land before the shuttle had been forced to evacuate, and while he had rushed off to secure the barracks with Rex, you were tasked with defending the training facility with a contingent of newly trained clones. They were an interesting bunch, a little wild and eager, but they knew how to fight, and you'd seen them cut down more droids than their fair share.

You just hoped that would be enough.

Droids were rising from the ocean like the living dead, and they were everywhere, a sea of metal, their red eyes flashing in the storm. There's little cover on the open platform, and the clones are doing their best to hold their ground, but they're being pushed back, the droids overwhelming them.

"This is fucking insane," the trooper growls, and you glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "Sorry, sir."

"Don't worry about it," you chuckle. "I've heard worse."

He huffs and shakes his head, and then he raises his blaster and fires off another round at the same time as you pop up and throw your shoto in a wide arc. The yellow streak cuts through the air and collides with a pair of battle droids, severing clean through their torsos, the halves clattering to the ground.

"Nice shot," the trooper grunts. You look over at him and grin as you catch the blade, but it fades when you notice his hand clutching his arm, his armor charred and cracked.

"You're hurt," you gasp, reaching out, but he pulls away.

"It's nothing," he insists, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

"Let me see," you press.

He sighs, but he releases his arm, allowing you to examine the wound. The flesh is scorched, but it's not deep. You can't risk applying bacta, not in the middle of a battle, but you can ease the pain, at least.

You place your hand on his arm, and he jerks, his helmet whipping towards you. You meet his gaze and try to smile reassuringly.

"Just relax," you tell him. "It won't hurt."

He hesitates, but then he nods, and he lets out a slow breath. You close your eyes and focus, the Force flowing through you, into him. It's the same technique you used to heal Rex's injury on Null, but the effect is more temporary, the tissue healing slower than usual. You're sure that if Rex knew what you were doing, he'd have a few choice words, but you don't care. These men are under your command, and it's your duty to protect them. Even if that means pushing your own limits.

"Wow," the trooper murmurs. He rolls his arm, flexing his fingers, a note of awe in his voice. "How did you do that?"

You shrug. "I have my ways."

"Very mysterious, sir," he teases, and you roll your eyes. He peers around the pile of scrap, and then turns back to you, his shoulders slumping. "Not gonna lie, this isn't looking good."

"No, it's not," you agree. You take a deep breath, your hands resting on your knees. You feel lightheaded, and a little woozy. Healing him took more out of you than you expected.

"You're not doing so great either," the trooper observes, and you blink, turning to him.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not doing so great," he repeats. He cocks his head, and then adds, "Sir."

You can't help but snort at that, and the two of you share a chuckle. It feels good to laugh, to find a moment of levity in the chaos. The trooper may have been a little awkward and blunt, but you couldn't help but like him. He was refreshingly honest. Or maybe you were just a little delirious.

"Thanks," you mumble. You pause, and then look around, trying to formulate a plan. The platform is surrounded, and the droids are pouring out of the ocean faster than the clones can shoot them down. You've never been great at strategy, but you've survived this long. You're going to have to rely on instinct. And hope.

You raise your blades and stand, a grim determination settling over you.

"Stay close," you say, and the trooper rises to his feet, his blaster at the ready. "We're going to break their ranks."

"Sir, yes, sir."

You nod, and the two of you leap out from behind the pile of scrap, launching yourselves into the fray. For a few moments, everything is a blur. You lose yourself in the movement, the familiar weight of your weapons in your hands. It's a dance, really, the steps as natural as breathing. You duck, dodge, spin, strike, parry, thrust, and repeat. The droids fall before you, their metal limbs scattering across the platform, but it's still not enough.

"We have to fall back," you shout. "Get the wounded into the building and seal the doors. We'll regroup and formulate a plan."

The trooper nods, and he signals the men, repeating your orders. A moment later, they're retreating, falling back to the safety of the training facility. You hold the rear, deflecting shot after shot, the lightning crackling overhead, the wind roaring in your ears. The droids are relentless, and their shots are becoming more accurate. One hits a clone in front of you, and he falls to the ground, his body limp.

"Grab him," you call out. Another bolts grazes your pauldron, and you flinch, nearly tripping over a severed droid arm at your feet. "Hurry!"

The troopers haul their fallen comrade, and they rush back into the training facility, the doors sealing behind them. The one who had saved your life before remains at your side, and together, the two of you hold the line, keeping the droids from breaching the entrance. But, even with your combined efforts, the droids are still advancing, and they're quickly gaining ground.

The rain is coming down hard, and the wind is blowing it sideways, soaking through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. You grit your teeth, and continue deflecting shots, the droids' numbers seeming endless. If only Obi-Wan was here. He'd have thought of something clever, something that would have turned the tide in your favor. You, however, have nothing. Nothing but desperation, and anger, and fear.

A particularly well-aimed shot whizzes past your ear, and you feel the heat of it graze your cheek. Another shoots by, and another, and another. They're close, too close, and your arms are starting to tremble, your fingers slipping on the hilts of your sabers.

"Sir, come on!" the trooper urges, grabbing your arm and pulling you back toward the facility. You can barely keep up, your boots sliding on the wet ground. The doors are so close, but they're also so far.

A sudden blast rocks the platform, sending the two of you sprawling. Your sabers go flying, clattering across the duracrete, and you watch the blades deactivate, the metal growing cold and silent. The trooper groans beside you, and then he sits up, shaking his head. You can't blame him for his lack of grace. The world is spinning, and the ringing in your ears is deafening.

"Fuck," you hiss, pushing yourself up. You reach out with the Force and drag a crate to the side, forming a barrier between the two of you and the advancing droids. It's a flimsy shield, but it's better than nothing. You press your back against the crate and close your eyes, gathering your strength.

"I've got an idea," the trooper pants, and his voice sounds like it's coming from a million lightyears away. His helmet tilts your direction, his chest heaving. "But you're not going to like it."

"Try me," you grunt, trying to clear your vision.

He takes a deep breath and exhales, the sound sharp through the modulator. "See that downed trident ship? The one with the hole in the side?"

You turn and look, spotting the wreckage. It's close, no more than a few dozen meters away, behind the hoard of advancing droids. It's a mess of broken metal, the hull twisted and shattered, the observation portals cracked.

"Yeah, I see it," you reply, a hint of suspicion creeping into your voice.

"Can you use the Force to move it?" He pulls a grenade from his belt. "If you can bring it close enough, I can toss a popper into the hole and detonate the fuel reserves."

You stare at him, the implications dawning on you. You're not a demolitions expert, but even you know that blowing up a downed ship in the middle of a battle is a risky move. The explosion would likely cause significant damage, and the fallout could be deadly.

"Do you think you can do it?" he asks, his voice laced with urgency.

"I can do it," you reply, and the trooper gives a short nod.

"Then, let's do this," he says.

"On my mark," you say, and he nods again.

You rise and extend your hand, calling upon the Force. The moment you connect, a wave of power rushes through you, and you can feel the weight of the ship heavy in your grasp. You take a deep breath, and you start to pull, using all your strength.

The ship groans, the metal creaking and screeching. It's heavier than you thought, and it's hard to focus with the blaster fire coming at you. You grit your teeth, and you throw every ounce of energy into the task. Slowly, the ship begins to move, its metal body scraping against the deck until it lifts into the air.

The droids don't seem to notice the trident floating above their heads, and they continue their advance, their red eyes gleaming in the storm. It's almost comical, how the metal behemoth hangs there twists in the air behind them, its tentacle-like limbs dangling beneath.

The rain is pouring now, the water streaming down your face, and your entire body is trembling, exhaustion threatening to overtake you. It's getting harder and harder to maintain control, and the ship is wavering, the hull swinging back and forth.

"I can't hold it much longer," you shout, your voice straining.

"Almost there," the trooper shouts back. His hand grips the grenade, his finger hovering over the trigger. "Just a little longer!"

You let out a cry and pull with all your might, and the ship responds, jerking forward, the tentacles swinging wildly. He presses the activator, hurling the grenade towards the hull just as it falls from your grasp. It arcs through the air, hitting the edge of the hole and bouncing inside.

"Get down!"

The trooper grabs you and tackles you to the ground, shielding your body with his. A second later, the trident explodes, a blinding flash of light filling the sky. The shockwave is deafening, the pressure slamming into you, the heat from it hot on your skin.

Debris rains down, the deck trembles beneath you, and the ground shifts. For a moment, you think it's about to collapse, and the two of you are going to tumble into the ocean below. But, then, everything goes still and silent.

You lay there, stunned. Your ears are ringing, and your body is aching, the pain pulsing through you. You're alive, though. And, surprisingly, uninjured.

You turn your head and glance at the trooper, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He's alive. He's alive.

The two of you are silent for a moment, and then, a chuckle escapes your lips. You can't help it, the adrenaline surging through you. He lets out a weak laugh, and you start to laugh harder, the hysteria gripping you. It's insane, all of it, and the two of you laugh until you're crying, your ribs aching, the tears mixing with the rain.

After what feels like an eternity, you manage to regain control, and you wipe the tears from your cheeks, a giddy sense of relief washing over you. The trooper pushes himself up and offers his hand, pulling you to your feet. Once you're steady, you clasp his shoulder, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

"That was insane. Absolutely insane." You can't help but laugh again, the adrenaline still pumping through you. "And, I have to admit, pretty damn clever."

He chuckles and shrugs, brushing aside the compliment. "Thanks, sir. But, I can't take the credit. That was all you."

"Well, whatever. It was a team effort." You look around, the smoke from the explosion clearing, revealing the aftermath. The droids are scattered in pieces across the deck, their limbs bent and twisted. You know more will come, but for now, the platform is secure.

"You have a name, trooper?" you ask.

"CC-8411, sir," he replies. He holsters his rifle and straightens his back, a sense of pride in his stance. "Though my brothers call me Booker."

"A commander, huh?" You tilt your head, studying him. "I should have known. You have quite the aim, Booker. Thank you for watching my back."

"Of course, sir." He shifts nervously on his feet, glancing down at the ground and back up. "And I, uh, I'm not a commander yet, sir, but I'm working on it."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Booker says. He rubs the back of his neck and shrugs. "Just finished my ARC training. I'm pretty good at shooting, and my scores are high. My CO's seem to think I'm ready, it's just, well, I can't get promoted unless I've had experience leading a unit."

You raise an eyebrow, a smile pulling at the corner of your mouth. "You don't say."

Booker clears his throat and stands at attention, his gaze straight ahead. "I'm just...I'm looking for the right opportunity, sir."

"Hm," you hum, studying him. You call your lightsabers back into your hands, and you point at him with the hilt of one. "That could be arranged."

His helmet snaps in your direction as you holster them. "Sir?"

"You said it yourself. You have the skills," you point out. "And, if your superiors think you're ready, I see no reason why we can't put you to the test. Come on."

You turn and gesture for him to follow, and the two of you make your way back into the facility, the doors opening with a hiss. The rest of the men are waiting inside, their bodies slumped against the wall, the injured being treated. When they catch sight of you, a cheer rises, and the air fills with applause.

You can't help but smirk, and you glance at Booker, giving him a wink.

"Looks like you're already popular," you tease.

"Well, what can I say?" he laughs. "I have a way with people."

"Yeah, I can see that." You stop in the center of the room and take a deep breath. "Status report."

One of the troopers steps forward, and he salutes, his helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes are wide, a mixture of awe and terror, and he swallows, trying to gather himself.

"All troopers accounted for, sir," he reports. "One casualty, but all other injuries are non-life threatening. I've sent word to the barracks, but I don't know if anyone's heard us." He looks around the room, his expression grim. "I think we're on our own, sir."

You nod. You'd expected as much. Still, it's not the news you wanted to hear.

"Very well," you say, sighing. You reach out, placing your hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "Stay calm. What's your name?"

"Snap, sir," he answers.

"Well, Snap, let's do this one step at a time, okay?" You pat his arm and take a step back, taking a deep breath. "First things first. How many able men are here?"

"About forty, sir."

You bite your lip, calculating the numbers. It's not enough. Not by a long shot. But, it'll have to do.

"Alright, listen up," you declare, and the room goes silent. "We need to start clearing buildings. If we can create a clear path to the barracks, we can get our brothers the reinforcements they need. Now, the enemy is numerous, and they're well-armed, but they're also spread out. So, we're going to take advantage of that."

You pause and look at each trooper, their faces serious. Then, you turn back to Booker, giving him a nod.

"We're going to split into teams and work our way through the city, building by building, until we reach the barracks. Our goal is to clear as much ground as possible and take out as many droids as we can along the way. Commander Booker will be leading a team. I'll be taking the rest."

Booker stiffens, and he glances at you. "Sir?"

"Time to prove yourself, Commander," you tell him, and the room breaks into a flurry of excited murmurs. "I want you to lead a team through the east wing. You're a good shot. Take out as many droids as you can."

He's quiet for a moment, and then he nods, squaring his shoulders.

"You heard the General," he says as he turns back to the men, his voice firm and commanding. There's no trace of the nervousness he displayed only moments before. "Form up."

The troopers begin gathering their gear, the room filled with a newfound sense of purpose. You can't help but smile, and a wave of pride swells inside you. They may not be the most skilled fighters, but these men are brave, and they're determined. And, if the past few hours have shown you anything, it's that they're smart. They'll be fine.

Booker steps closer to you as the men move into formation, and he hesitates before pulling his helmet off, revealing a face you've seen a thousand times and a crooked smile that's all his own. His hair is dangerously close to being out of regulation for a shiny, and his eyes are bright and full of life.

"I won't let you down, sir," he vows.

"I know," you assure him, and his smile widens. "I'll see you on the other side, Commander."

He gives a final nod, and he jams his helmet back on, turning to the troopers who have assembled beside him. He barks a command, and the group disappears into the hallway. The remaining troopers turn to you, waiting for their orders.

You take a deep breath and steel yourself, feeling the weight of the battle heavy on your shoulders. You wave your hand, and the men follow you down the opposite corridor, their footsteps echoing behind you.

The halls are quiet, the only sound the hiss of the doors opening and closing as the men file out and the rain pattering against the glass above, the droplets running down the window.

It's dark, the lights flickering, and the building feels abandoned, a shell of its former glory. There are no signs of life, no indication that anyone is left behind, and the silence is unnerving. It's almost like a ghost town. Or a tomb. But, the droids are here, lurking somewhere, and you know that the fight is far from over.

You pass through the training facility, the space littered with broken equipment and shattered glass, the droid corpses scattered throughout. There are blast marks on the walls, scorch marks on the floor, the metal dented and twisted.

Somewhere, you know Obi-Wan is fighting General Grievous, and you pray to the Force that he succeeds. You'd never say it aloud, but you're glad it's him and not you. Not this time. He's faced the cyborg more than once before, and he's still standing. You can't say the same after your last encounter, and while the idea of having a rematch is tempting, the idea of facing that monster again terrifies you.

It's a selfish thought, and one that Obi-Wan would be disappointed in, but it's true. You're afraid. Afraid of the pain, of the horror, of the nightmares that plague you still. And, if you're honest, afraid of the darkness within yourself, the one that lingers, whispering in your ear. The one that you've barely kept at bay, but knows no bounds. You'd tempted fate once, and you'd nearly paid the price.

No, you're better off where you are, facing droids instead of demons.

"Sir," a voice interrupts, and you blink, realizing you've stopped walking. You feel a flicker of embarrassment as you look at the trooper who spoke, his helmet tilted, and you give a quick nod to speak. "We've cleared the building. No signs of life. No droids, either."

You let out a sigh, relief washing over you.

"Thank you," you say, giving him a smile. "Good work."

"Where to next?"

You consider his words, and you weigh the options. You know the barracks are in the north, and you're currently in the south. To reach them, you'll have to fight your way through the city, which is crawling with droids, and there's no telling what they have planned. They could have already taken the barracks, and you'd have no way of knowing until it was too late.

You look at the trooper, and he shifts under your gaze. "What's your name?"

"CT-4398, sir," he answers, his voice wavering slightly. "I mean, um, Dash. Sir."

You give him a small smile, trying to ease his nerves. He's young, barely out of his teens, and it's clear he's never been in the field before. "Well, Dash, what do you think?"

"Me?" he stammers. "I don't... I'm not sure..."

"It's okay," you reassure him. "Just tell me what you're thinking."

"Well, sir, I was just thinking...maybe we should check the control room," he says, gesturing down the hall. "It's just around the corner. We might be able to find out where the droids are coming from, and get some information on the barracks."

"Sounds like a plan," you say, smiling. You clap him on the shoulder. "I need you to man the control room with..." You blink, turning to the trooper next to him. "What's your name?"

"Screwball, sir," the trooper says. You try to disguise the laughter, but Screwball is already shaking his head. "Don't ask."

"Right," you drawl, and you turn back to Dash. "With Screwball. Monitor the communications. Try to raise the barracks."

Dash stares at you, and it’s only when Screwball slaps him on the back hard enough to send him stumbling forward does he finally snap out of his stupor.

"Y-yes, sir," he replies. "Understood, sir."

“I’ll watch him, sir,” Screwball adds confidently.

"Good," you say. You nod to the remaining troopers. "Let's move out."

As you continue down the corridor, you can't help but wonder if you're doing the right thing. If there's even a right thing. There's so much about this war that feels wrong, but it's still the clones, and their treatment, that trouble you the most.

They were created, not born. Taught, not raised. Molded, not nurtured. Their entire lives, they were engineered to serve, bred to fight. And, yet, there's so much more to them.

They're men, flesh and blood, and you can't help but feel responsible for their lives. These clones in particular, still so young, still so new. They've barely begun to live. To die now, here on Kamino, would be a waste. A tragic end to bright lives cut too short.

You can't allow that.

You won't.

Ahead, the corridor splits, the left leading to the control room, the right continuing on to the rest of the building. Dash and Screwball peel off, and the group continues. You're not sure what awaits you outside, but you're determined to face it. The odds are stacked against you, but so far, you've overcome the worst, and you've survived. You can do this. You can save them.

As the door slides open, and the rain batters against your face, you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the battle ahead.

Booker and his squad are waiting when you finally meet up hours later, their armor drenched, their weapons hanging at their sides. You can tell they've been through the wringer, but the sight of them is a welcome relief. In fact, every single trooper on his squad is accounted for and then some — a score of fifteen men you haven’t seen before.

"I see you picked up some friends," you tease, giving him a tired smile.

Booker chuckles, and he shakes his head, his armor dripping. "A few stragglers, but I'm not complaining. Thought they might be useful."

"You thought right." You reach out and pat his shoulder, your fingers squeezing his plastoid. "Good work, Commander. I'm glad you're okay."

"I told you I wouldn't let you down," he reminds you. "Besides, it's not over yet."

He's right. You're still not even halfway through the city, and the storm is only getting worse, the waves crashing against the buildings, the wind howling.

You've cleared five buildings so far, and each one has been an ordeal. The droids are everywhere, and they're relentless. Your troops have had to fight their way through blockades, shoot down trident ships, and fend off swarms of B2s. It's been a brutal slog, and your body is exhausted, the adrenaline from the first few hours waning.

The good news is, there doesn't seem to be an endless supply of droids. The bad news is, there's still enough to pose a serious threat.

Your men have been hit hard, and more than a few have been wounded. Some are unconscious, and some are worse. Some were too injured to move, and you've done what you can to stabilize them, but the truth is, there's not much you can do. There's not enough bacta to go around, and there's no way to safely transport them.

It's a grim reality, and it's one that haunts you. Not long ago you'd felt the loss of every death, the pain and suffering washing over you. It had nearly driven you mad. Now, the feeling has faded, becoming nothing more than a dull ache. A reminder.

It's not right. None of this is right.

Your thoughts drift to Rex, and the image of his face is clear in your mind. He's alive, you can sense it. And if anyone can survive a battle, it's him, but that doesn't stop the fear from taking hold. It's irrational, and you know it, but you can't shake the dread that gnaws at you. He's the best fighter you've ever known, and he's faced death a hundred times before, and still, a part of you is terrified that this time, it'll be the last. That the nightmares you've dismissed as just that will become real again.

"You alright?" Booker asks, and you realize he's been staring at you.

You shake yourself free of the thought and look at him, a tight smile pulling at your mouth.

"I'm fine," you mutter. You run your hand through your hair, pushing the strands away from your face, and you turn to look over the rest of the troopers. “Tell the men to rest for a moment, and then we'll make a run on the barracks. I want a headcount, and we'll need to re-evaluate the plan. I'll brief you in a moment."

"Yes, sir." Booker gives you a lingering glance before he moves away, gathering the rest of the group. As the clones begin to settle down, taking advantage of the reprieve, you find yourself wandering away from them.

You walk away toward the edge of the platform, and your eyes scan the horizon. The lightning is still dancing across the darkened sky, a beautiful, terrifying sight. It's a reminder of the power you hold, of the power you're capable of wielding, and of the danger that lurks in the shadows.

It's also a reminder of how small you are. How insignificant.

You lift your communicator up and press the button, praying to the Force that Dash and Screwball were able to get the communications back online. When static fills your ears, followed by the voice of the young trooper, relief floods you.

"General, is that you?"

"It is," you say, leaning against the railing, the rain dripping down your face. "Status report."

"Well, uh, we haven't had any success reaching the barracks," he says, his voice shaky. "But, we did manage to restore the cameras."

"That's something, at least." You let out a sigh, and you close your eyes, trying to calm yourself. "How are we looking?"

There's a pause, and then a crackle of static. "Not great, sir."

"Define not great," you urge.

"The droids are surrounding the building, and they've got heavy artillery. Our brothers are holding them off, but the numbers are against them. At this rate, they're not going to last long."

"Shit." You open your eyes and stare into the distance, your mind racing. Dash quickly reads out the position of Obi-Wan and Anakin, both engaged in their own duels with Grievous and Ventress, and it's clear from the strain in his voice that he's barely holding it together. You need to get moving. But, the question is, where?

"Anything else?" you ask, trying to keep your tone light.

"The storm has caused a lot of damage," he replies, the words coming faster, almost tumbling over each other. "Several buildings have collapsed, and the waves are getting worse. The ocean is rising."

"Great," you groan, letting out a huff. "Just what we needed."

"Yeah," Dash sighs, and there's a hint of desperation in his voice. "We're running out of time."

"Stay calm," you tell him, though the words are meant for yourself. "Just keep monitoring the situation. Let me know if anything changes."

"Yes, sir," he replies.

"And, Dash? Watch out for Screwball. Don't let him do anything stupid."

"Too late," the other trooper shouts in the background.

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Yeah, okay. Never mind."

"I'll keep him safe, sir," Dash says with a weak laugh. "Good luck."

You close the connection, and you press the communicator against your forehead, taking a deep breath. The wind whips around you, the rain pelting your body, and the thunder roars above, a cacophony of noise. It's a fitting backdrop for the moment, a reflection of the chaos inside your head. You feel the darkness stirring within, its tendrils snaking their way around your heart, and you squeeze the railing tighter, trying to resist. Trying to fight.

You've never been a good strategist, but even you can tell this is a losing battle. Even if you were to somehow manage to make it to the barracks, there's no guarantee that you'll be able to turn the tide. You'll be walking straight into a firing line, and the odds are stacked against you. Still, you have to try.

After a few more minutes of trying to hail Cody, Obi-Wan, Anakin, anyone, it becomes clear the storm is causing the communications to fail. No amount of trying is getting you through, and you're fighting a losing battle against the frustration. If only you could use the Force, but the sheer amount of energy and concentration to reach out is not something you have the strength for, not after the battles.

With a frustrated growl, you slam your commlink down, the metal casing creaking. It's a pointless action, but it does make you feel better. For a moment, at least.

"Having trouble?" a voice calls out, and you spin around, the hilt of your saber already in your hand. Booker is standing behind you, his arms folded, a smirk on his lips. "Whoa, easy. I come in peace."

You lower your lightsaber, and you shake your head, a wry smile on your lips. "Sorry. Force of habit."

"You don't have to apologize, General." He steps closer and leans against the railing, his helmet tucked under his arm. The storm is picking up, and the wind is blowing his hair in all directions, but he seems unbothered, the rain trickling down his face. He turns to look at you, and he tilts his head. "I'll admit, I didn't think you'd be like this."

"Like what?" you ask, a note of caution in your voice.

"Well, like this." He waves his hand in a vague gesture, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't know. I guess I just thought you'd be a little more...serious."

"I am serious," you insist, and he snorts, his gaze drifting to the sky.

"No, I know that," he chuckles. "But you've got to admit, you've got quite the reputation."

You sigh. "So I've heard."

"Don't take this the wrong way, sir," Booker says, his eyes shifting back to you. "But a lot of us were a little scared of you. Well, more like intimidated. We'd heard the stories, and we'd seen the footage, and well...you seemed pretty intense."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh? What changed your mind?"

"You saved my life. Twice. And you gave me a chance to lead." He shrugs, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on the railing. "You didn't have to do that, sir, but you did. I won't forget that."

"I'm glad," you say, and you give him a small smile.

"Plus, the fact that you're a general who cares enough about us to save our asses is pretty nice." He pauses and glances at you, and then he looks away, his gaze distant. "Most generals would have left us to fend for ourselves."

You don't respond, not sure what to say. The truth is, there's no doubt in your mind that some of the other Jedi would have done exactly what Booker suggested. They would have seen the clone as sacrifices that had to be made, and they would have moved on. After all, it's not their job to protect them, or to train them. Their duty is to the Republic, not the individual. To the greater good, not the lesser evil.

It's a lesson you're not sure you'll ever be able to learn, not completely. Maybe that makes you naive, or soft, or too emotional. But, you don't care.

"I won't abandon my men," you declare, your voice firm and determined.

"Good." Booker nods, and then he pushes himself away from the railing, his expression grim. "Because we've got a battle to win, and we could use your help."

"Sir," a trooper calls, waving you over. "We're ready."

You turn back to Booker, your hands gripping the hilts of your sabers.

“Let’s move.”

It's early morning by the time the battle is won, and the sun is just beginning to rise. You're exhausted, and Grievous and Ventress have escaped yet again, but you're still standing, and Kamino is once again under Republic control. It's a small victory, but one that's earned.

Your clothes are soaked, your body is bruised, and your limbs are aching, but it's a sweet kind of pain, the kind that comes with survival. And, despite the loss of many, the clones have never looked more alive.

The storm is finally receding, the rain now nothing more than a drizzle, and the sky is streaked with vibrant hues of gold and pink through the transparisteel windows. You've never seen a sunrise like it.

The view is beautiful, and it fills you with hope, a sense of peace that seems impossible in the wake of the devastation. The sun is rising on a new day, and you know the ones you care about have made it through the night.

You've already spoken to Obi-Wan and Cody, and you can't help the relief that's washing over you. Both are alright, though a bit worse for wear, and the two men are leading the cleanup efforts, trying to restore order and repair the damage that has been done. Anakin is a little roughed up, but he's still in good spirits, and he's taken over coordinating the search and rescue effort, which is much appreciated.

You haven't spoken to Rex, though. Not yet. You haven't even had a chance to breathe, let alone try to locate him. But you can feel his presence through the Force, and you know he's alive, and for now, that's enough.

You’ve dismissed your contingent from your command, but that hasn’t stopped them from approaching you as you walk with Booker toward the medbay. He’s escorting you for your safety. Or at least, that’s what he says.

You can tell he’s lying, and you can tell he’s worried about you. He hasn’t stopped hovering since the battle ended, and he keeps a watchful eye on your surroundings, his hand never far from his blaster. It's an amusing gesture, but you appreciate the sentiment, even if you find it irritating.

He's a good man, and you can't help but feel proud of him. He's young, and he has a lot to learn, but he's also smart, observant, and he knows how to read people. That, combined with his skill with a blaster, makes him an ideal candidate. He'll be a great commander.

But, first, he needs some time. Time to recover from his injuries, time to process everything that happened, time to get used to being a leader.

“Almost there, sir,” Booker says, tugging you along when you stop to shake Snap’s hand. He gives the clone a wink, and then nudges you again, forcing you to keep walking.

You laugh as you wave your hand at him. "I can manage, Booker. I'm not that bad."

"Yes, sir," he chuckles. He glances down at you, and you can see his expression shift from amusement to concern, his eyes narrowed. You realize he’s staring at the scar stretched across your palm, the one that has long since healed, and you quickly fold both your hands behind your back. You'd forgotten.

"Sorry, sir," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to..."

"It's okay," you assure him quietly. "I know it looks strange. But, it's an old injury. From before the war."

Booker nods, but he doesn't look convinced. You can't blame him. The scars are strange, jagged lines that stretch across the palms of your hand, the skin raised and pale. You've never really gotten used to the sight of them, preferring to ignore their existence completely. But now that you know for sure that Dooku is responsible, you've caught yourself tracing the lines more than once in recent weeks.

Booker clears his throat, and he gestures toward the entrance to the medbay. "After you, sir."

You give him a look as you walk past him and step through the doors, the smell of antiseptic and bacta filling your nose. The room is large, and the white walls and floor reflect the fluorescent lighting, making it feel even bigger. There are rows of beds lined up against the wall, and medical droids moving between the patients. The place is crowded, and the air is filled with the sounds of moans and whimpers.

A Kaminoan lingers in the back of the room, watching with an unblinking focus that unnerves you, and you do your best to avoid her gaze. You’ve had enough of the Kaminoans and their superiority for one day.

“Wise!” Booker calls out as he pushes you gently to sit on an open cot. “Got a fresh one for you.”

A bald trooper currently arguing with a medical droid freezes and turns, his expression sour.

“Can’t you see I’m busy—" He stops short when he sees you, and the furious glare tempers slightly. "Apologies, sir, I didn't realize. I'll be with you in a minute, okay? Just—shit, put that down!”

"Um, no problem," you mutter. "Take your time."

You can't help but smirk as he smacks the droid with the back of his hand and turns back to it, berating it for its incompetence. You turn and raise an eyebrow at Booker. "Wise?"

"Short for wiseass," Booker explains, snickering. "But, don't tell him I told you."

You chuckle, and you settle onto the bed, pulling your legs up and crossing them. You're exhausted. Your muscles ache, and your head is pounding, but you know you'll have to wait a bit before you can rest. There are still things to do, and reports to write.

You look around the room, trying to distract yourself. The medbay is filled with clones, all sporting various injuries, some worse than others. You see a few you recognize, men who have fought at your side, and a few that were part of the original group you'd saved. Their injuries are mostly superficial, though one has a broken arm. He waves when he catches you staring, and you give him a nod.

“Alright, what can I do for you, sir?” Wise asks, stepping in front of you. He glances down at the carbon scoring on your armor and the gash on your cheek, and he raises a brow. "You don't look too bad, to be honest. Nothing a few bacta patches can't fix."

"Trust me, I've had worse," you laugh, shaking your head.

"I'm sure." He sighs, and he leans against the bed, a grimace on his face. "Listen, I've been working nonstop for the past six hours, and I'm dead tired. I just want to go to sleep and forget today ever happened. So can you just let me take a quick scan and say it's all good, please?"

"Sounds good to me," you say, nodding.

He gives a grunt, and he pulls a small scanner from his pocket, waving it over your body. A beam of light sweeps over you, the data scrolling across the screen, and Wise hums to himself, checking the readings.

You sit there patiently, trying not to fidget. You've never liked the medscanner. You always feel like it's judging you, somehow. And, while you know it's just a machine, the sensation of the beam running over your body is still uncomfortable, the feeling akin to that of someone staring at you.

"Well, the good news is, there's no internal bleeding," Wise declares, looking up. He puts the scanner down, his expression serious. "The bad news is, you have a mild concussion, you're dehydrated, your blood pressure is low, and your heart rate is elevated."

"So, normal," you quip.

"She has jokes." Wise sighs and turns, rummaging through the medkit. He pulls out a bottle of pills and a bottle of water. "Take these, drink this, and rest. You can have a bacta patch for that cut, and then you can get out of my medbay."

"That's it?" you ask, frowning. You're so used to Kix's fussing, the fact that Wise isn't nagging you about everything is a bit of a shock.

"That's it," Wise confirms. He presses the items into your hands, his eyes narrowing. "What, were you hoping for something else? Like a kiss, maybe?

You choke, the water dribbling down your chin, and Booker snorts.

"Don't push it, vod," Booker warns, but his words are laced with humor. "She could take your head off."

"And I'd enjoy every second," you add, popping the pills into your mouth and downing the rest of the water. You wipe your lips, a smirk tugging at the corner as the medic rolls his eyes.

"Fine. Just let me take a look at that gash."

Wise moves closer, and his hand rests lightly against your face, his fingers tilting your chin up. He's surprisingly gentle for someone so brash and grumpy, his touch careful, his gaze focused. He hums, dabbing the disinfectant on the wound. You barely feel it.

"Looks like you'll live," he says. He holds his hand out, and a medical droid places a bacta patch in his palm. As Wise applies the bacta patch, Booker moves to stand next to him, his hands clasped behind his back.

"How are things looking, Wise?" he asks, his voice casual. You know he's checking on the men, but there's a note of concern in his tone, a worry that he's trying to mask.

Wise doesn't bother hiding it. He huffs and turns his gaze to Booker, his scowl deepening. "They're holding on, but not much more." He pauses and glances at you, his expression darkening. "Some of the boys have had it rougher than others, but, well, that's war."

Booker nods, and he glances around the room, his gaze moving over the wounded men. You can't see his expression, but you can feel the shift in his emotions. It’s the first time he’s lost a man, and it won't be the last.

"It'll be alright, Booker," you reassure him.

He's silent, but he gives a small nod.

"If you need anything, I'll be in the back," Wise mutters. He pats Booker's arm, the gesture friendly, and then turns away, walking toward the next patient.

"Thanks," you call. He doesn't respond, and you let out a sigh. "I don't think he likes me."

Booker laughs, a real laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His earlier mood seems to have lightened, and he clasps your shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

"Are you kidding me? He loves you. I can tell," he insists. "That was practically a marriage proposal."

You roll your eyes. "Right. And I suppose you'll be my bridesmaid."

Booker opens his mouth to retort, but his gaze flickers, his attention caught by something. The medbay doors slide open, and a trooper in familiar blue and white armor steps through, his posture stiff, his helmet tucked under his arm.

Rex.

The room goes quiet, every clone in the room turning their head to follow his path as he walks. Rex doesn't seem to notice. He moves with purpose, his eyes scanning the rows of beds, searching.

He looks tired, his armor dented and scorched, his hair damp from the rain. There's a scratch on his cheek, a cut across his brow, and his bottom lip is swollen, split at the corner. But, he's alive. He's here, and he's standing.

And, he's looking for you.

You can feel the moment Rex sees you. His eyes widen, and he freezes, his jaw going slack. The wave of relief that washes over him is strong, so strong it's almost tangible. He lets out a shuddering breath, and his gaze moves over your face, taking you in. You do the same. And, for a moment, the two of you just stare.

Then, the world shifts back into motion.

Rex starts to move, his steps slow at first, almost hesitant, as if he's not sure he's seeing you. Then the hesitation disappears, and he's suddenly striding towards you, his gase locked on yours.

“Is that…” Booker straightens, his eyes wide, and he takes a reflexive step back. He gives a sharp nod to Rex as he approaches, and his hands fall to his sides, his fingers flexing. “Captain Rex, sir.”

Rex doesn't even acknowledge him. He stops in front of you, his chest rising and falling, his expression pained. His eyes roam over you, taking in the state of your armor, the gash on your cheek, and then, he finally meets your gaze.

You swallow, forcing yourself to breathe.

"We have to stop meeting like this," you say, trying to break the tension.

It doesn't work.

Rex doesn't say anything, but the pain in his eyes only intensifies, and the look is so raw, so visceral, that it takes your breath away. His mouth trembles, his lips parting, and his hand lifts, hovering for a second before falling to his side.

"General," he says, his voice hoarse.

"I'm fine, Rex," you assure him. You reach out and place a hand on his arm, giving him a reassuring smile. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, letting the air out slowly. When he opens his eyes, the pain is gone, replaced by something softer, and he gives you a small nod, a silent thank you.

“You okay?” you ask, and he gives a tight nod, his fingers flexing at his side.

"Yeah," Rex breathes. "You?"

"Never better."

He snorts, his lips twitching into a smile. "Liar."

"Maybe."

Rex shakes his head, and then, he finally seems to notice the man standing beside you. You glance at Booker, and you realize the clone has gone completely still, his back straight, his shoulders stiff, his expression one of awe and disbelief.

You bite your lip, trying to hide your amusement. You know the feeling. Rex is intimidating when he wants to be, and it's clear Booker is not immune to the Captain's commanding presence, or his reputation.

"Who's your friend, General?" Rex asks, his voice low. He raises an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing, and the corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile. You can feel his amusement, and it's a relief.

"Commander Booker, sir," Booker responds. He hesitates, his gaze flickering to you. "I...was assigned to the general. To protect her."

"Oh?" Rex's eyes shift, and he looks at you, his expression softening. "And, did you?"

"I did, sir." Booker sounds almost defensive, and his gaze darts to you, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "I mean, not that she needs my help. She's a Jedi. She can handle herself. But, I was...there."

Rex hums, his lips pressed together, and his gaze moves over the trooper, assessing him. You can't help but roll your eyes. Rex is being difficult, and you know it. But, he can't seem to help himself, and he's enjoying the discomfort on Booker's face far too much.

"He saved my life," you add, and Booker lets out a relieved sigh. "Twice, actually."

"Twice, huh?" Rex's eyebrows shoot up, and he looks at the clone again, a new respect shining in his eyes. "Good work, Commander."

"Thank you, sir," Booker says. His posture relaxes slightly, and he lets out a small breath, his shoulders slumping. "It was an honor to serve with the General. She's a good leader."

"That she is," Rex agrees. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like a moment with the General."

"Oh, yes, of course," Booker stammers, and he takes a step back. He turns to you, a questioning look on his face. "General?"

"You're dismissed," you say. "Go get some rest, Booker. You've earned it."

He hesitates, his gaze lingering on Rex, and you can tell he wants to argue. But, he's smart, and he knows when to retreat.

"Yes, sir." He snaps a salute, his helmet tucked under his arm. "Goodbye, General. It was a pleasure serving with you."

You smile. "Goodbye, Commander. I'll see you around."

He nods and moves away, joining the group of clones who are standing near the doors. They exchange quiet words, their voices hushed, and then, they disappear.

"I like him," you announce as the door slides shut behind them, and Rex lets out a soft snort.

"I'm sure you do," he says, shaking his head. "He seems...eager."

"Be nice." You roll your eyes and nudge him playfully with your arm. "He fought well today. I’m putting my recommendation in to have him promoted officially. I think he'd make a good leader."

“If he’s got your approval, he'll do just fine," Rex says, his voice quiet.

"You're probably right." You pause, and then, you tilt your head, looking at him. "Why aren't you with the other men?"

"I was, but..." He trails off, his jaw working. Rex takes a step closer and glances at Wise, who's hovering nearby, doing a poor job of pretending not to listen, and he clears his throat. “Is the General clear to go? We have a briefing to get to.”

Wise gives a curt nod, and he waves a hand toward the exit. "All clear, Captain. You can take her."

"Good." Rex looks back at you. "Ready, General?"

You sigh. The last thing you want to do is attend another pointless briefing, but you know it's important. So, you nod.

"Ready."

He holds out a hand, and you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. You sway slightly, and his other hand settles at the small of your back, steadying you. He holds you like that for a moment, and then he releases you, his hands falling to his sides.

"Come on," he mutters, his eyes dark.

The two of you leave the medbay, the silence heavy between you. There's a tension in his posture, a strain in his voice, and a tightness to his jaw that tells you something's bothering him. And it's not just the eyes on the two of you.

"Is everything alright?" you ask.

"Everything's fine."

You study his face, trying to read his expression, but his mask is firmly in place, his thoughts hidden. It's easier to sense his emotions. Anger, frustration, pain, exhaustion, fear. All of it's there, swirling beneath the surface, but the reasons behind them are unclear.

Rex is one of the most self-contained people you've ever met, but you've gotten better at reading him over the months together. The slightest twitch, the faintest tremor, the briefest flicker. There's a whole language in those little things, and you're starting to learn it. And, right now, he's struggling.

You glance around the hallway, noting the curious eyes that linger, the whispers that follow, the stares that bore into your back. But the further you walk, the less people there are, and the quieter it becomes. Soon, the only sound is the steady thud of Rex's boots and the hum of the ventilation system.

“So, where’s the briefing?” you ask, trying to fill the silence. Your arms extend above your head in a stretch, and a yawn escapes your mouth, making you feel even more tired. You can't wait to sleep.

“There isn’t one,” Rex admits.

Your arms drop, your brow furrowing.

“Then why did you…”

Rex stops and turns to face you. His hands are clasped behind his back, and he's standing tall, his shoulders squared, his head held high. He looks every inch the soldier. A perfect example of discipline, restraint, and control.

But, his eyes betray him.

He's afraid.

You blink, surprised, and you open your mouth to speak, but Rex shakes his head. He reaches out and grabs your arm, tugging you into a nearby alcove, and you stumble after him. His grip is gentle, but there's a firmness to it that warns you not to fight him.

Once the two of you are alone, Rex releases your arm and takes a step back, and his hands ball into fists at his side. He takes a deep breath, his nostrils flaring.

"Rex," you say, trying to catch his attention. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

He doesn't answer. He's staring at the floor, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a firm line. His jaw clenches, and his lips part, as if he's about to speak, but no words come.

You watch as his hands flex, the fingers curling and uncurling, and he runs a palm over his face.

"No, I'm not okay," he finally says, a rough exhale escaping him. His voice is strained, his words coming out in a low rasp. "I thought...I thought...for a minute, I..."

The realization hits you, and you close your eyes, taking a shaky breath.

He'd thought you were dead.

He'd thought he'd lost you.

And, judging by the look on his face, the pain he's clearly trying to mask, it's shaken him more than he'll ever admit.

"Rex," you breathe, your heart sinking.

You'd felt his emotions when the battle started, the worry and fear that had radiated from him, but you'd assumed it was because he knew what was coming, and because he was worried about the other men. You never thought it was because of you. Because he was scared for you.

You'd been so focused on your own feelings, on the dread and anxiety that had plagued you, that you'd never considered the possibility that Rex might feel the same way. That his thoughts might drift to you. That he might wonder if you'd made it through the storm.

The realization is painful, and it brings a lump to your throat. You feel guilty, and ashamed.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I didn't mean to worry you."

His gaze drops, and he shakes his head. "No, it's not your fault. I'm the one who's sorry. I should have...I shouldn't have let it get to me. I know better than to lose my focus like that. I just...when I heard the explosion, I..."

He stops and lets out a ragged breath, and his body sags, the fight draining out of him. You step closer, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. His skin is warm, and his stubble scratches against your palm. Rex leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed, and his head tilts to the side, his nose brushing against your wrist.

"It's okay. You're allowed to be upset." You offer a small smile. "You're only human."

Rex doesn't say anything. He just sighs and covers your hand with his, pressing it closer to his skin. You can feel his pulse beating rapidly beneath your fingertips, and his grip tightens, as if he's afraid to let go.

"You're going to make me cry," you joke weakly, but the truth is, his pain is almost unbearable. It's too close, too real. You can feel it echoing inside you, and the weight of it is almost crushing. You hate seeing him like this. You hate knowing that you're the cause of it.

"Please don't," he mutters. His voice is rough, and there's a raw edge to it that makes your stomach twist.

"Why not?"

"Because I'll probably start crying, too," he confesses, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest as he opens his eyes. "I've had a rough day."

You let out a weak laugh, trying to fight the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You blink, and a single tear rolls down your cheek.

Rex's eyes widen, and his face falls.

"Now you've done it," he grumbles, but there's a tenderness to his words that makes your heart swell.

His hands move to your shoulders, and he gently pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your body. Your face buries in his neck, and his chin rests on the top of your head.

"I'm glad you're alive," he whispers. His grip tightens, his fingers digging into the back of your robes. "When I didn't see you after the battle...I didn't know what to think. I couldn't find you. I didn't know where you were, or if you were even..."

You squeeze him harder, letting him know you're here, and he makes a soft noise in the back of his throat. You can feel his body trembling beneath your touch, and his hand reaches up, cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur, your voice muffled as you bury your face further into the crook of his neck.

Rex lets out a shaky breath. "Good."

You stand like that for a long moment, the two of you clinging to each other, neither of you willing to let go. You can feel his heartbeat slowing, his muscles relaxing, and his breathing evens out. His grip loosens, and his fingers trail through your hair, his nails scratching lightly against your scalp.

He needs this. He needs you. And, for once, he's letting himself have it

You know the feeling.

The war has taken its toll on both of you, and the weight of it has been a burden that you've borne separately and together. The endless battles, the constant stress, the loss of life. It's all wearing you down. You want to comfort him, to give him the support he so desperately needs, but you're not sure how. Not when your own emotions are so tangled. Nothing seems right, nothing seems enough. And, the words that come out are inadequate.

"We made it," you say, and the words sound hollow, even to you. "That's all that matters."

Rex makes a small noise, almost a laugh, and his hand moves to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along the base of your skull.

"Yeah," he breathes. “Yeah, we did."

"We're okay," you remind him, pulling back to look him in the eye. You give him a smile, and he returns it, his eyes crinkling. "I promise."

Rex studies you for a long moment, his gaze moving over your face, as if trying to memorize every detail. His expression softens, and his hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the bacta patch.

"I'm going to hold you to that,” he murmurs. His voice is rough, his tone serious, but the corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile.

"Good. You should.”

"You know, if you keep saying things like that, I'm going to start thinking you actually care," he teases, his fingers trailing along your cheekbone.

You roll your eyes, and your hands move to his chest, pushing him away. He chuckles and pulls back, releasing his hold on you.

"You know what I meant," you say, wiping away the wetness from your cheeks. "And, for the record, I do care."

"I know," he replies softly, his eyes flickering. He clears his throat and glances away, his cheeks flushing, and you can't help but smile.

"I was worried, too," you confess. Rex's eyes snap back to yours, and his eyebrows rise. "About you, I mean. About all of you. I thought...well, I thought a lot of things. And, I'm glad none of them came true."

"Me too," he agrees. "I don't know what I would have done if..." He trails off, his voice fading, and his lips press into a firm line. He swallows and takes a deep breath, his hand moving to the back of his neck, rubbing at the tense muscles. "Sorry. I didn't mean to drag you into an empty hallway just to have a breakdown. I just..."

"You needed a minute," you finish, and he nods, his shoulders slumping.

"Something like that."

"You have nothing to apologize for," you tell him, giving his arm a squeeze. "It's been a rough day for all of us. And, you're not the only one who's a little shaken."

"You're right," he concedes, letting out a long exhale.

You pat his arm and offer him a smile, trying to lift his mood. “Besides, if we're keeping track of emotional breakdowns, I'm still way ahead of you. You're gonna have to try a lot harder if you want to catch up."

Rex huffs and shakes his head, his lips twitching.

"Well, I don’t think this war is ending anytime soon," he quips. "I'll have plenty of opportunities."

"True."

You give a sigh and lean against the wall, resting your head back. You can feel the exhaustion starting to catch up with you, and your body is heavy, the weight of the past few hours weighing down on you. You close your eyes and let out a groan, wishing you could just crawl into a bed and sleep for the next ten years.

Rex moves to stand beside you, his shoulder pressing against yours. The heat radiating from his body is comforting, and you lean into him, savoring his closeness. He turns his head, his eyes searching your face, and you meet his gaze, a faint smile on your lips.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "For letting me have a minute."

"Any time," you tell him, and you mean it. He's done so much for you. He's given so much of himself. You'd give anything to ease his pain, and if a minute is what he needs, you'll give him that. It’s the least you can do.

His lips part, as if he's going to say something, but no words come out. His eyes drop to your mouth, and his jaw tenses, his throat bobbing. Then, he shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, and his gaze lifts, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "You're just...you're a good friend, General."

The word friend stings more than you expect, and you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to grimace. You can't blame him for saying it. Not when it's the truth. You are his friend. But a small part of you had hoped...well, it doesn't matter.

"Right," you say, your smile a little strained. "So are you."

Rex gives a nod and turns his gaze away, looking down the hallway. He seems lost in thought, his brow furrowed, his lips twisted, and you watch as he looks left and right, checking to see if the coast is clear. There's a moment of hesitation, and then, he sighs and turns back to you, his expression softening. He looks almost shy.

"I..." He stops and takes a deep breath, as if he's steeling himself for what's to come. "Here."

He pulls up his vambrace, and you watch, confused, as he taps a few buttons. His finger hovers over one of the controls, and then he presses it.

A second later, your commlink begins to chime. Your eyes widen, and you quickly pull it out to silence it, staring at the display that pops up. You glance up at Rex, and his cheeks flush, his hand rising to the back of his neck as his eyes avoid yours. He's nervous. He should be. He’s breaking about a dozen regulations by giving you his private frequency, and you know it. He knows it.

And, yet, here he is, giving it to you anyway.

It's dangerous, risky, and foolish, but neither of you seem to care. The war is already hard enough, and the idea of keeping each other at a distance, especially now, is an unnecessary cruelty. So, you don't argue. You save the contact, and you tuck your commlink away, giving him a smile.

"Just in case," he mutters, his gaze finally meeting yours.

"In case what?"

"In case you need me," he says. His voice is quiet, but there's a strength to it, a resolve. "Or, in case I need you."

You stare at him, unable to speak. The look in his eyes is so tender, so earnest, that it takes your breath away. There's something else there, too, something deeper, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You have to look away.

"Got it," you manage.

Rex gives a small nod, and he pushes himself off the wall, moving to stand in front of you. His hands settle on your shoulders, his thumbs tracing circles against the fabric of your tunic.

"We'll see each other soon," he promises. "Just...let me know when you get back to the Temple. Okay?"

"I will," you agree.

"Good."

Rex gives you one last smile, and then he releases you. You watch as he walks away, his footsteps echoing in the corridor, before he disappears around the corner, leaving you alone.

You take a deep breath and try to compose yourself, smoothing the front of your robes. Your hands are trembling, and your heart is racing, but you ignore the feelings, burying them. It's just stress, you tell yourself. It's been a long day. You're just tired.

Your eyes trace the panels along the walls, and you stare up at the ceiling, the white lights overhead. You take a deep breath and close your eyes, clearing your mind. When you open them, you feel calm, the momentary panic fading.

There's a sudden ping from your commlink, and you jump, startled. Your fingers fumble with the device, and you quickly bring it up, tapping the display.

Stay safe.

The words make your heart skip a beat, and you type out a response without hesitation.

Always.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano @floofyroro

@ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon

@heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy @bunny7567

@lostqueenofegypt @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky @captn-trex @feral-ferrule

@webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @cw80831 @chaicilatte @somewhere-on-kamino

@silly-starfish @veralii @chubbyhedgehog @lordofthenerds97 @meshlajetii

@heaven1207 @808tsuika @aanncummings @lugiastark @maniacalbooper

@sensitive-shark @kashasenpai @kkdrawsdecently @isaidonyourknees

#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #roy writes #event horizon #forcing everyone to read about my clone ocs like a proud grandparent pulling photos out of their wallet #but hey!! relationship progression!!

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nivasichakano · 4 hours ago

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Snippet Smonday

Thanks for the tag @badmarilynart! I don't have any more of Driven written yet so here's the beginning of the second chapter of Hellfire & Damnation, my old new Bloodweave Hellfire Club AU that I'll be working on after the meepboys park up for good. Nopreshtags: @davenswitcher @buhloodweeeave @hylianworrier

Chapter 2 - A Proposal

Gale rapidly pushes himself up to sitting, gathering his fallen toga over his embarrassment, backing away until he hits the cold stone wall.

“Lord Ancunin!”

The Hellfire Club’s founder lets out another low laugh, sitting back on his heels. Even kneeling, his slender physique is perfect, a body carved from heavenly marble. “You look dismayed. Am I to take this as an insult, Baronet? I am a disappointment. You would have preferred another?”

“N-no, I mean-” All of Gale’s earlier defiance is gone, melting under the heat of those intense green eyes and his current vulnerability. “I merely thought-”

His words are failing him as his mind races. Why is Lord Ancunin here? Is this an attempt to gain leverage? Blackmail material, as Wyll speculated earlier? After all, what they have just done borders on unlawful. But what could such a powerful member of the House of Lords require from a mere scientist, albeit a highly decorated one? Why would Ancunin… attend to this matter personally?

“I was not expecting you, my Lord,” Gale attempts to steady his voice, trying to collect his thoughts. “I was informed that you do not… participate in the… revelry of your own gatherings.”

“Then your informant is either unreliable or I am simply unpredictable.” Those plump lips quirk into a one-sided grin and Ancunin extends a graceful hand to trace up Gale’s exposed shin. “I’d like to think it was the latter.”

Gale doesn’t know what to say or do. All of his attention is taken up by the pale hand softly caressing the hair on his leg.

“May I see your face, Baronet?” Ancunin’s tone is surprisingly coquettish. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours…”

Something about his voice, or his presence, or the way his damned fingers are sliding up Gale’s thigh makes the request difficult to deny. Gale reaches up to the back of his head and undoes the thin mask, pulling it from his eyes.

Ancunin’s head tilts as he contemplates Gale’s face, an uncanny sight in his golden, multi-tined disguise. Then he removes his hand from Gale’s leg and undoes his own face covering, taking it off and setting it on the bed.

Without the mask, he is even more beautiful than Gale had estimated. Ancunin’s eyes are ringed with kohl and his lashes are thick and dark, fluttering against the tops of high cheekbones when he coyly lowers his gaze.

“That's better,” he purrs. “Now we may proceed with our affairs.”

“Affairs?” Gale studies Ancunin’s face, trying to determine his intentions, but there’s nothing there. Only cold, indecipherable beauty. What does he want? What does he want? What does he want?

“I have informants of my own, you know,” the man says softly and Gale freezes.

Aha, here we go.

“They tell me you find yourself without a patron. That it is this current plight which brings you here to my little corner of Hades.”

“Then it seems your informant is more reliable than mine or I am simply predictable.”

Lord Ancunin laughs out loud, a pretty sound that reverberates around the alcove like the voice of a mythical nymph. “I do only pay the best, you know,” his head is tilted again, the same coy smile on his face. “On which note: if I were to offer you my investment, Baronet, what precisely would you be willing to do to secure it?”

Read Chapter 1 of Hellfire & Damnation on AO3!

#bloodweave #astarion x gale #gale x astarion #gale dekarios #astarion #astarion ancunin #gale of waterdeep #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #fanfic #bg 3 fanfic #bg3 fic #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #bloodweave fic #bloodweave fanfic

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missameliep · 2 days ago

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Choices Spread Kindness - Day One: Choices Fandom Shoutout Day

I've joined the Choices fandom in October 2018, after months seeing random posts, fanart and fanfic while googling some of the books I was reading at the time. I've never thought a silly app I installed to distract myself during many sleepless nights when my daughter was still a baby would bring me here and allow me to meet so many wonderful human beings!

Some people have deactivated over the years or moved on from this fandom, but still had an impact on me and I'm grateful for every single one of them. Even if I'm not so active anymore, and barely read new books in the past years, the Choices fandom will always be special since in the most wonderful and unexpected way it allowed me to find so many talented, kind, loving and interesting people, it offered me the chance to meet people who live so far away and make good friends.

So, I'd like to take the chance to thank you all who in any way supported my writing, made me smile with your posts and jokes, amazed me with your fanfics and fanart (I'll never get over the fact there are so many spectacularly talented artists in this small fandom of ours!), for all the lovely messages, for making me reflect on important matters etc. I'm grateful for every single one of you, and I apologise in advance if I forget someone.

And, of course, a special thank you to the lovely host @lovealexhunt - You're such a gem and we're so lucky to have you around! Thank you for constantly organizing these events to keep the fandom going, thinking of others and just spreading kindness. Your posts about mental health are so informative and I have said it before, but I appreciate every single kind message you sent and others, and I hope you receive all this love back.

Tagging all the people who made my experience in this fandom much better with your support (to me and other creators), by organizing events and hyping other creators, or just by being kind (even if we never talked) and who deserve appreciation:

@princess-geek @lorirwritesfanfic @rosesnink @aallotarenunelma @annie-napier @brightpinkpeppercorn @i-put-the-sin-in-sinclaire @lilyoffandoms @lizzybeth1986 @ezekielbhandarivalleros @alj4890 @dalishessence @jerzwriter @peonierose @ladylamrian @kingliam2019 @kyra75 @cashweasel @lou-who-writes @musicallisto @retvenkos @aerinisback @trappedinfanfiction @thequeenofpixels @homeformyheart @dcbbw @angelasscribbles @mrsnazariowrites @ritachacha

#choices spread kindness 2024 #choicesspreadkindness #choices fandom #lovealexhunt #thank you!

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soft5ku11 · 3 days ago

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Hey so I'm also an artist and a gainer and I was wandering do u have any tips on drawing fat men

Well, it's all about shapes - at least to me. Keep the shapes connected in the right way, with the right volume, and heaviness. That's what I try to focus on. Fat goes over the top of regular anatomy, so learning how that works first can really help.

What I did was just draw whatever and I learned as I drew more of it. It's all about trial and error, learning and evolving and recognising what you want to improve, rather than being discouraged by "this looks bad". Don't compare yourself to others, only yourself.

But, as with anything to do with art, collect inspiration, collect a huge amount of references. Print out your favourite artworks from other artists, smack 'em through a holepunch and keep em together with a treasury tag. Never be afraid to use yourself for a reference picture either. If you cant find something, just save the time instead of mindlessly scrolling image results on your search engine of choice. Especially since you're a gainer, you can use your own body to study how any niche angle or pose might look with your body type.

To add onto this, of course it'll vary from style to style but exaggerate your shapes, (coming back to the shapes thing) for example, I'll use this artwork of my DND guy that I recently did:

See how the shapes of certain parts aren't necessarily more muscled or fatter? The feet and hands for instance, they look better and read clearer if you exaggerate them a bit, and I already set the hands and feet on the 3D reference model I used to almost maximum. You can do this with heads to an extent as well, but it could make the character's proportions feel off. That part is a balancing act and you can find basic proportion guides for the body online to help with that. But - the thickness of the arms and legs and even the neck pulls the figure further from realistic proportions and more into a cartoony illustrative look. I could go on for ages about this but that's the basic gist of it.

One thing I think is exceptionally under-represented in art advice that I've seen in my time is DON'T UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF HAVING ARTIST FRIENDS! Learn from each other, talk about stuff, gather and share resources amongst yourselves, etc etc. You learn more when in groups, that's why school isn't one-on-one.

These are just some tips off the top of my head, there's always more out there and I'm sure one of these things won't work for you and others will, but make the leap like you've done here and ask other artists too. Lots of people would be willing to give some advice to help you get going, and you asking will also benefit others who might be too shy to ask so even if you don't take my advice, you can be happy that you've pulled it out of me for others to see at least XD

#soft5ku11 speaking #soft5ku11 art tips #i guess lmao #thanks for asking!#soft5ku11 asks

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shewasverynice · 3 days ago

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Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen

⚠️ SPOILER HEAVY ⚠️

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

Full tags/warnings on Chapter links post

Major Characters: Original Character, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Yaga Masamichi, Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, Tsukumo Yuki, Choso

‎‧₊˚✧ Chapter 11 ✧˚₊‧

"Happy Halloween!!" Sarah and Suguru shouted, slamming Satoru's dorm room open on a crisp and beautiful Halloween morning.

"S'not evenmm--" he mumbled, barely opening one eye to look at the clock, "Sun's'not evn up yet..."

"That's 'cos we got stuff to do!" Sarah said, appearing right in his face and making him jump back, "C'mon sleepyhead! We gotta get ready!"

He yawned, slamming his face back into his pillow and stretching his legs out. He flexed his toes, the whole bed shaking as he let out that very necessary groan we all have to do when you get a really good stretch going.

"Are we going somewhere or something?" He mumbled, sitting up and letting his head rest on the headboard.

"We're gonna go find Himuro Manor!" Sarah reminded him, "It doesn't have an exact location so we'll have to just look around."

"Oh, right," he sighed, rubbing his eyes with his finger tips, "The Fatal Frame house... So it was real?"

"It's already become real through a curse," Suguru said with a shrug, "I'm sure we can find it if we follow the legends about it."

"And if we don't, then we'll just spend the whole day and night in the woods having so much fun," Satoru said sarcastically, reaching into his drawer for a clean shirt.

Sarah automatically faced away as he started to change, sitting on the end of the bed, "But if we actually find it, we can play like ghost hunters!"

"There's no such thing as ghosts," Satoru said with a roll of his eyes, "It's not ghosts. Just curses."

"Pfff," Sarah rolled her eyes with just as much sass, "Curses and ghosts are the same thing."

"Curses can kill you, a ghost isn't real and so it can't," he said with a sneer, "Two different things."

"Okay well let's just pretend they're ghosts then," Sarah huffed, "Be cool, Glacier Freeze."

Suguru stepped in between before they started to really get worked up. He grabbed both of them by the collars of their shirts and pulled them along with a shake of his head. "Too early for sass," he said, "Let's go. We have a drive ahead."

The day before they'd already prepped everything they might need for a long adventure in the woods. Everything vital like snacks and soda and a couple flashlights, all the important stuff of course. Convincing a manager in training to drive them there was the most difficult part, really. They had to offer to cover for him on three nights coming up, around Christmas time of course, but the price was easily worth it.

"What's so special about this place anyway?" Satoru asked with a heavy sigh, buckling into his seat a half hour later, "I barely remember that game. The second one was way better, yeah?"

"It was," Sarah agreed, "But this one was set in just the mansion so it was probably easier for the collective consciousness to make."

"Well maybe nostalgia for the second one will manifest a real village someday," Suguru said with a shrug, "We are lucky we could make this happen at all. Normally they don't let the first years do investigations."

"What did you tell Yaga?" Shoko asked, "How did you convince him?"

"I just asked," Suguru said with a shrug, but a certain twinkle in his eye told Shoko it was better not to ask right then. She raised her brows and simply continued with, "So are we just playing around or are we actually going to exorcise it?"

"Fun first, kill it after," Satoru said, adjusting his shirt while he slouched down, "We can play around in the spooky house for a bit and then take out the curse when we're done."

"Does this count as my first mission?!" Sarah said excitedly and Satoru patted her head. She swatted at his hand and he grinned at her.

"Don't worry, I'll keep my cute little underclassman safe," he teased then smirked as she slapped at the infinity between them when he kept her flying fists away.

"When we find a ghost imma make it haunt you!" She huffed, and he cackled as he leaned back in his seat.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The old manor loomed before them, nearly swallowed by the encroaching woods. Its darkened wood, once richly brown and varnished, had faded to a splotchy gray-black under years of relentless weather. In some places, ivy and twisting vines crawled up its walls, disappearing into crevices and windows like nature’s attempt to reclaim it entirely. Trees grew so close to the structure that their branches scratched against the eaves with the barest breeze, their roots winding thickly around the foundation like the gnarled fingers of some ancient guardian.

The air around them felt strangely thick, muted as if wrapped in a damp, musty blanket. The forest at night was utterly still, almost unnaturally so. Not a single cricket chirped; not a single leaf rustled. It was as though every living creature, from the tiniest bug to the tallest tree, held its breath, wary of breaking the heavy silence that blanketed the woods. Even the wind dared not disturb the silence, making the night feel like a quiet void around the old manor.

As Shoko, Suguru, Satoru, and Sarah approached the crooked steps leading to the main entrance, the floorboards creaked ominously beneath their feet. Each step groaned in protest, some splintered and fraying at the edges, threatening to snap under their weight. The smell of rot and damp wood mixed with the faint, lingering scent of old incense, as if the place still clung to memories of its past.

When they finally reached the heavy front door, Satoru pushed it open with a slight shove. It dragged against the floor with a low, tortured groan. As they stepped inside, a sudden chill cut through the air. It was colder than it had any right to be, a biting sort of cold that sank right to the bones and carried with it the unmistakable, thick scent of dust and decay. Everything felt heavy, untouched for decades, as if a single breath might disturb the dust hanging in the air.

"So uh..." Shoko whispered, reaching for her flashlight in her bag, "What was the haunting caused by in that game?"

"Oh, well they used to do a strangling ritual here," Sarah explained, walking up to look at a wall scroll that nature was melting slowly, "It was to keep the darkness trapped in this big spooky well."

"The malic I think it was called," Suguru added, then sighed, "And all of the ghosts had died to the curse, didn't they?"

"Not a curse!" Sarah said, pointing at him, "Ghosts! It was ghosts that got them and made more ghosts!"

"Right," Satoru grunted as he squatted down to pull more flashlights out of his bag, "So let's play along, right? We can play like the game and take a bunch of weird photos!"

"Did you bring a camera?" Sarah asked.

"Phone?" Satoru said sheepishly.

"That's not the same," Sarah sighed, "It was specifically the Camera Obscura that could catch the ghosts." Then she suddenly froze, gripping Suguru's sleeve, "Oh! We could just try to find it right?! Maybe it's just in here!"

"It's not gonna be exactly like the game," Satoru scoffed, "You shouldn't get your hopes up."

"Watch this though..." She said, walking down the hallway. She called back, "If I'm right then... The camera should be..."

She screamed as the shadowy figure of a man passed in front of her. She would have fallen back on her ass if Suguru and Satoru hadn't rushed up behind her, ready to fight.

"What?!" Satoru looked left and right down the corridor, "What was it?!"

"It was a ghost!" She stammered, "One of the people killed by the darkness!"

"Oh my god," Satoru groaned, "No it wasn't, shut up."

"It was!!" She insisted, staggering to her feet, "I swear it was!"

"So where's the camera then?" Shoko asked, looking down the hall.

Sarah pushed a broken screen aside and practically threw herself back pointing at the camera on the ground. Satoru and Suguru both narrowed their eyes, rushing over to squat down and look at it. "There's no way..." Suguru muttered, reaching out to take it. Satoru stopped him, then grinned.

"Nah, wait, let's play along," Satoru said, looking over his shoulder to Sarah, "Right?!"

"Yes!" Sarah scrambled over, picking up the camera, "Absolutely yes! Let's go! Right now!"

"Do you two remember the story?" Suguru asked, "I don't know if I do after so long."

"I... Don't." Satoru admitted, watching Sarah fiddle with the camera, "I think the character was a girl who lost her brother, right? He was researching the haunting here or something?"

"Yeah," Sarah nodded when she looked up from the camera, "And then he got killed by the ghost in the fireplace room and his sister came to check on him."

"So let me just make sure I heard that right," Shoko sighed, "We need to take pictures of the ghosts to exorcise them? Is that how this game works?"

"Yeah! The camera steals their souls and stuff and--"

"Okay," Shoko cut her off, "Alright, fine. Let's just go get this over with."

"Oh?" Satoru grinned, leaning with his arm on Shoko's shoulder, "You scared?"

She rolled her eyes, "No, but I don't really think this is the best place for Sarah and I. These ghosts are dangerous--"

"Curses," Satoru corrected her and she huffed before he continued, "And you have Suguru and I here! There's nothing to be afraid of!"

"Of course," Suguru agreed, "Nothing will happen to either of you."

"But what if we get separated?" Shoko asked, "That kind of thing always happens in these kinds of games."

"Pfft," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, "Don't be ridiculous. How could we get separated? It's just one building, we can't get lost in such a small place."

The manor had a way of pulling them apart, as if its very walls shifted to separate the four friends. Shoko and Sarah ended up on the far side of the house, where they stumbled into a dilapidated kitchen. A low, flickering light barely illuminated the room through grimy windows, casting shadows that seemed to twist and move on their own. The air was thick with the sour smell of mildew and something metallic—rust, perhaps, or the faint stain of old blood long dried. Every surface was coated with a thin layer of dust, untouched but for the occasional smear where something unseen had disturbed it.

Shoko moved carefully, eyes narrowing as she scanned the dark corners. "We should have brought something sharp," she muttered, annoyance crossing her face as she dug through drawers filled with cracked wooden spoons and broken bits of porcelain. A glint of metal caught her eye, and she pulled out a tarnished butcher knife, testing its weight in her hand. "Better than nothing, I guess."

Sarah kept her distance, glancing around nervously. “Anything about this place actually seem like it belongs in a kitchen?” she asked, eyeing the blackened stove and mold-ridden walls.

Shoko shrugged, her attention still on the drawers. "It’s probably been cursed for so long, it doesn’t know what it is anymore."

Meanwhile, Suguru wandered down a series of narrow, winding corridors, the wood creaking beneath his every step. Here, the walls seemed to close in tighter, bending and warping in places, as if they were alive and breathing around him. A faint, translucent figure flitted past, its face half-formed, looking as though it might disappear entirely if Suguru blinked too hard.

He chuckled softly to himself. "So, are you all separate spirits, or is this one big curse controlling everything?" he wondered aloud, as if expecting the house to answer. It was hard to tell in such a place, where curses lingered in every shadow, in every draft of cold air that seemed to sweep through the hall with a sigh. He felt a pull toward each apparition he passed, his curiosity ignited as he tried to sense if they were fragments of one larger entity or isolated curses.

Above them all, Satoru found himself standing alone in the cramped, cobweb-strewn attic. He'd somehow managed to hold onto the Camera Obscura. Now, if he could only figure out how to get the damn film in they could actually play the game

"Stupid thing," he muttered under his breath, squinting at the camera and attempting to load the film. His fingers fumbled with the film reel, the stubborn old device refusing to cooperate. He sighed, pressing harder than necessary, frustration building.

Behind him, a faint, icy whisper filled the air, the sound of creaking footsteps creeping closer. The temperature plummeted, and a ghastly, translucent figure loomed behind him, stretching a pale hand forward.

Without even glancing up, Satoru lifted one hand, releasing a sharp pulse of cursed energy that hit the ghost with a force that disintegrated it instantly. He went right back to struggling with the film, muttering, "Stupid old thing. Why is it always the oldest shit?"

Shoko and Sarah moved cautiously down the wooden hall, which felt endless, lined with crumbling walls blackened by age and water damage. Most of the paper screens had melted away, leaving jagged edges flapping in the occasional gust of cold air that seeped through cracks. It was as though the entire manor had been left to rot, assaulted by wind and rain until only the skeleton of its former grandeur remained. The air was thick and damp, and the boards creaked beneath their steps, echoing like whispers in the emptiness around them.

Sarah glanced at the ruined screens and recognized bits and pieces of the layout, but the decay made the space seem foreign and wrong. The house she remembered had not felt so terrifying on the TV and the real life version wasn't as easy to navigate as she hoped. They peeked into each room, nudging open the doors that could still slide, finding each space abandoned and stripped bare, only scraps of paper and tatami mats clinging to the floors.

Then, in a dark, shadowed corner of one room, something caught their eye—a small roll of film, resting atop a low table covered in a thick layer of dust. They both reached for it, excited by the unexpected find.

But before their hands could touch the film, a soft hissing rose from the floorboards. The shadows twisted and coalesced, rising up in a mass that took shape—a ghost with shriveled, hollow eyes and an agonized expression, its mouth frozen in a perpetual choke. It crawled upward, its skeletal hands stretching toward them, a hoarse wheeze escaping its lips as if it had been denied breath for centuries.

Shoko and Sarah screamed, stumbling back. Their voices carried through the empty halls, echoing in the dark spaces of the manor.

In an instant, both Satoru and Suguru heard them from their separate locations. Suguru took off at a sprint, his footsteps pounding through the halls, dodging splintered beams and ducking under fallen rafters. But Satoru opted for the most direct route. He blasted through the floorboards, one level down, then another, smashing his way through rotting wood and debris until he crashed into the room, scattering dust and splinters everywhere.

He raised his hand, a glint of cursed energy forming, ready to obliterate the spirit—but before he could release it, Sarah snatched the Camera Obscura from his grip. Her hands shook, but she moved quick, finally managing to load the film with one swift click.

She raised the camera, aimed it at the ghost, and pressed the shutter.

The camera’s flash went off, the room illuminated in a harsh burst of light. The ghost let out a bone-chilling shriek as it reared back, its form wavering and dissolving, until finally it disintegrated into nothing. The room returned to silence, the faint odor of charred wood and decay lingering in the air.

Satoru stared at the empty space where the ghost had been, wide-eyed, then glanced down at the Camera Obscura in Sarah's hands. Shoko, equally stunned, glanced between Sarah and the camera.

"Did that… actually work?" Shoko breathed, disbelief etched on her face.

Satoru blinked, then broke into a wide grin. "Guess we have a new ghostbuster on the team," he teased, nudging Sarah with his elbow.

Sarah, catching her breath, managed a shaky grin. "I knew it. We got this in the bag now!"

Suguru arrived just moments after the spirit vanished, skidding to a halt and glancing around the dust-laden room. Before he could ask, Sarah spun toward him, beaming as she held up the camera. "Geto! It worked!" she announced, almost bouncing on her heels.

Suguru chuckled, patting her head gently as she grinned up at him. "Nice job. That's really exciting," he said, warmth in his eyes.

Sarah and Shoko, energized by their victory, wandered over to the table littered with dusty rolls of film, muttering to each other excitedly as they examined their findings. Suguru took a moment to lean closer to Satoru, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “So,” he started, keeping his voice low, “any thoughts on what we’re actually dealing with here?”

Satoru gave a casual shrug, crossing his arms as he looked around the dark, decaying room. “From what I can see, it’s one curse," he said thoughtfully, "not multiple spirits or entities. But here’s what’s weird.” He leaned closer to Suguru, eyes glinting with intrigue. "When Sarah took that picture, it felt like the cursed energy didn’t just disappear—it dissolved. Like, I don’t know… cotton candy in water.”

Suguru smirked at the comparison, unable to suppress a chuckle. "Cotton candy, huh?”

“Hey, just telling it how I see it,” Satoru grinned. “But yeah, if that’s how it’s reacting to the camera, it should work to exorcise the curse completely. It’s like the energy is unraveling at the core. But,” he added, his tone a bit more serious, “if they actually end up in trouble, we’ll need to step in fast. The curse won't go down without a fight.”

Suguru nodded, the lightness in his gaze hardening with resolve. “Agreed. Let’s keep an eye on them, then—”

He cut off, turning back to where the girls had been standing, only to find empty space. He blinked, exasperated but amused. “Well, damn.”

Satoru snorted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Typical.”

Shoko realized they’d somehow ended up alone again, standing in what used to be a bedroom but now looked more like a crumbling nightmare. Shadows crept along the walls, and what remained of the tatami flooring creaked beneath their weight. Shoko let out a quiet sigh, muttering under her breath as she pulled out her knife, infusing it with cursed energy. The blade took on a faint glow, casting ghostly light in the dark room. She glanced at Sarah, who clutched the camera tightly, her fingers trembling slightly.

"Keep that camera ready, okay?" Shoko said, nudging her with a reassuring smile.

“Got it!” Sarah said, trying to sound steady, though Shoko could see her knuckles whitening around the camera. They made their way into the hall, stepping carefully around cracked wood and holes in the floor. Every so often, a faint figure would flicker into view—a blurry, shadowed ghost moving towards them. Each time, Sarah snapped a picture, and the figures dissipated with a faint wail, leaving only a heavy chill in the air. None of the ghosts seemed particularly aggressive, but Sarah’s excitement was palpable.

“So…where are we going, exactly?” Shoko asked, keeping her voice low.

“Well,” Sarah said, her eyes gleaming, “in the game, the first boss was this editor—used to work for some kind of paranormal magazine or something. His ghost haunts this house because he died from the curse.”

Shoko raised an eyebrow. “And how are we supposed to find him?”

“Uh, clues,” Sarah said, her voice trailing off as she scratched the back of her head. “You know…find the clues and follow them…”

“Right,” Shoko drawled, smirking, “You remember where they are?”

Sarah’s sheepish laugh was all the answer she needed.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the mansion, Suguru and Satoru moved through the dark halls with little care. Shadows slipped around them, but they barely gave them a glance, dismissing each cursed spirit with a flick of their cursed energy. If anything, they looked bored, like they were on a leisurely stroll rather than inside a haunted house.

Suguru suddenly narrowed his eyes as he was mulling over the recent events. He stopped in his tracks and looked at Satoru. "If... The Camera Obscura is just part of the curse then how is it actually able to exorcise the curses?" He asked.

Satoru, who was a few steps ahead scoping out a ruined dining room, turned to him. He looked ready to answer before his brows furrowed and he said, "Y'know I hadn't thought of that. If anything the curses should just be recycling in on themselves."

"You mentioned before that she had a strange second energy, right?" Suguru asked, crossing his arms and putting one hand to his chin.

"Yeah," Satoru nodded, pushing at a broken screen with the toe of his shoes, "Think maybe that's what it is?"

"Well," Suguru tapped his chin, "It's definitely a possibility. Especially with what Yaga told us."

"Oh yeah, what did he say anyway?" Satoru asked, shoving the rest of the door aside.

"He said he'd allow her to go only if we could ensure her safety, which naturally we can, and we have her exorcise at least one curse," he explained, "I wonder if he wanted to see if her power works differently than ours?"

"Well, clearly it does," Satoru said, "Since it still can exorcise a curse using its own cursed energy. Maybe her stuff just blends in?"

"Oh, that could be," Suguru said, blasting a ghost apart as it tried to leap at him from inside the room.

"If I were to call it anything, I'd say it's like the opposite of cursed energy," Satoru explained, "Like... Divine energy, I guess? Hard to say since I've never seen anything like that."

"Divine energy would probably fit the bill," Suguru agreed, "Since it can resurrect and repels cursed energy but also draw curses in."

"It's weird though, right?" Satoru asked, crossing his arms, "Why haven't we seen it before? Never, even going to other countries have I seen it before. What's different about her?"

Suguru smiled, "Well, I suppose it's something to do with her bloodline. We could research it?"

"I tried," Satoru sighed, "The oldies blocked me from every angle. I guess I could call in the family to do it, but I don't really want them to know I know about her."

"It might be necessary, unfortunately," Suguru said, "Because it's not likely they'll let us find out more than we've already figured out. Yaga has already put himself at risk by telling us anything at all."

"Well, he'll be fine," Satoru shrugged, "We just won't let them threaten him. The geezers can't stop us." He smiled, then added, "Alright, I'll hit up gramps when we get this done. Let's see what he'll spill."

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly as Sarah and Shoko bolted down it, their breathing ragged as they jumped over splintered wood and ducked under fallen beams. Dust and rot filled the air, thickening with each frantic step as the heavy footsteps of the ghost followed close behind. It was the spirit of a young woman, her modern clothes a stark contrast to the decrepit mansion. Her skin was marred with rope burns, deep and bruised, and her pale face contorted in anger. She was faster than any of the ghosts they’d seen before, and her hands reached out, long fingers curling as if to snatch them.

“Can’t… you just… stab it?” Sarah gasped, struggling with the camera’s film as she stumbled alongside Shoko.

“Not this one!” Shoko replied, not slowing her pace. “It’s too strong—just get the film in!”

Sarah fumbled with the camera, trying to load the film, her hands trembling as she struggled to fit it into the slot. “Come on, come on!” she muttered, wincing as the camera’s metal edge bit into her finger. She stifled a curse as blood welled up and dripped onto the film. Her frustration turned to determination, and with a final push, she finally slid the film into place.

“Got it!” she exclaimed, whipping around, but in her haste, she stumbled back into Shoko, who grabbed her shoulders, steadying them both as the spirit bore down on them.

Sarah lifted the camera, hands shaking, and with a hard click, the flash erupted into a golden blaze. The light filled the hallway, illuminating the ghost's face in an almost surreal glow. For a split second, her eyes softened, the fury and anguish replaced by a fleeting calm. In that one instant, her expression looked almost… at peace. The image was brief, a single heartbeat, before she vanished in a swirl of light and cold air.

Shoko stared, her eyes wide, breathing heavily as the afterimage lingered in her vision. “Did… did you see that?” she whispered, stunned.

Sarah nodded, her grip tightening on the camera as she tried to catch her breath. “Yeah… she looked almost…” She trailed off, too rattled to find the words.

Far across the mansion, both Suguru and Satoru felt the powerful shift in cursed energy—a flicker of something heavy, then lighter, as if the curse had dispersed. Without a word, they exchanged a look of understanding and immediately set off, weaving through halls and stairways as they made their way toward the girls.

Satoru moved quickly, his grin vanishing as he sped up, cutting through obstacles with swift blasts of cursed energy, his eyes sharper than usual. Suguru, meanwhile, kept his cursed spirits at the ready, his footsteps quiet but purposeful as he wound through the mansion.

When they finally found the girls again, Shoko and Sarah were still sitting on the ground catching their breath. Satoru sauntered over, leaning on the wall looking smug.

"So, how's the photo taking going?" He asked.

"Cut the crap," Shoko huffed, "You felt that right? That bright light? Was that her?" She pointed at Sarah who blinked and looked between the two of them.

"Yeah," Satoru nodded, "That's what I was talking about."

"It's so... Soft," Shoko said, looking at Sarah and tilting her head, "The curse seemed happy before it was erased."

Now that was new. Satoru furrowed his brow. "Happy? Like when you unravel a curse rather than exorcise it?"

Shoko nodded, "Yeah, exactly. It was super weird!"

"Huh?" Sarah stood up, "That's not how it's supposed to go?"

"No," Satoru said, "Is that the first time you've seen a curse exorcised?"

Sarah looked down at the floor, considering how to answer that. Satoru waited, but after a moment he saw that panic creep into her expression. She did see it happen before, she must have. She only got confused about her past when something was being covered up.

"Here," Satoru shook her shoulder, getting her mind back on him, "Let me show you how it's done."

She blinked away her confusion and smiled at him. "Oh yeah? Is this a special lesson from my senpai or are you just showing off?" She teased.

He pulled down his sunglasses and winked at her with a winning smile, "Can't it be both, baby?"

She playfully shoved him, then held out the camera, "You can sense them with this too if you need to."

"Pff," he took off his sunglasses completely and hung them off his shirt collar, "Nah, I've got special eyes remember?"

With his Six Eyes focused, Satoru quickly zeroed in on the manor’s curse—a dense, pulsing core of malevolent energy buried in the heart of the decayed building. His eyes narrowed as he mapped out the twisted network of cursed energy, sensing the curse’s hold on the whole structure, like roots tangling and suffocating an old tree.

Without a second thought, he appeared beside Shoko and Sarah, scooping them up under his arms with a cheerful, “Upsy daisy!” Sarah let out a startled yelp as he held her with one arm, Shoko on the other, their feet barely grazing the floor before he launched out of the mansion, skimming over the broken floorboards and leaping through the gaping front doorway in a flash.

“Suguru! Brace yourself!” he shouted as he touched down just outside. Without waiting, he raised his hand, two fingers pointed toward the manor as his cursed energy coiled and began to surge. Blue sparks crackled as an orb of condensed power formed near his fingertips, the energy practically singing with intensity. The air around them grew thick, buzzing with raw power.

Sarah’s eyes went wide as she glanced at the glowing blue orb only inches from her face. “Satoru, that’s a little close, don’t you think?” she stammered, feeling the pulse of cursed energy against her skin.

He glanced down at her, smirking. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

And with that, he released the orb. It shot forward in a blinding beam, tearing straight into the heart of the manor. The explosion was immediate, a deep, resonating blast that expanded outward with enough force to shatter the ancient wooden beams and send splinters into the air. Dust and debris erupted as the manor collapsed inward, swallowed by the swirling cursed energy that Satoru had unleashed.

A moment later, Suguru emerged from the debris, coughing as he climbed out from beneath a fallen beam, his expression caught somewhere between irritation and exasperation. “You could’ve given me a little more warning, you know!" He shouted.

“I did warn you,” Satoru shot back, crossing his arms with a look of mock innocence, “You just weren’t fast enough to get out.”

Suguru narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “Fast enough? You gave me half a second!" He growled.

Their voices rose as they squabbled, Satoru’s tone lighthearted, while Suguru’s was more genuinely annoyed. But neither Shoko nor Sarah paid them much attention, both staring at the remains of the manor. The wooden beams and cursed energy dissolved together, releasing a cloudy, black mist into the air. The curse’s grip on the house dissipated like smoke in the wind, leaving only an eerie silence in its wake.

As the mist faded, Shoko let out a quiet sigh, and Sarah grinned, still clutching the Camera Obscura as it slowly disintegrated in her hands. “Well,” she said, glancing over at Shoko, “that’s one way to exorcise a curse.”

Shoko chuckled, patting Sarah on the shoulder. “I’d say we’re done here.”

In the background, Satoru and Suguru were still bickering, their voices carrying across the clearing as the last traces of cursed energy faded, leaving nothing but a memory of the old, haunted manor.

⤶ Prev Main Next ↪

#fanfiction #writing #a03 fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru #shoko ieiri #fix it fic #reincarnation fic

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imerian · 7 months ago

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Aaaaand i decided to post more of my f1 crafts here so here landoscar edition (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

Onse again photo without doodles under cut and some rambling in tags

#starting with oscar charm #actually those charms r first f1 thing i ever did so they aren't as detailed as others #but there few things i rlly like about them #like how i managed shapes with 81 #and colours with OP #also added literally my favourite bead ever that i have only one of(orange star)#also i think that necklace i took apart for those metal stars that reference alpinestars is find of the century #and those beads that represent his helmet actually look better in person #like the blue one have actually light blue accent that plays out in the sun #and ofc seashell #bc i made this first i matched Logan's one to that #but if i did them together i would also add blue star to oscar #and very random but i drilled that koalas head bc it wasn't a charm #with lando is way less details #i really like bead for his eyes and doodle for it #and helmet beads #but my favourite is gear #bc i took apart mechanical clock for it with my dad #and also how i used 7 bc the only L in store was red #i don't have a lot to say about braclets honestly #they r mostly vibes #but I'm proud of gradient from orange to black to yellow to black to orange #bc yellow doesn't rlly work for me #but i incorporated it to best of my abilities #also doodle on oscar bracelet with stars from Australian flag???#i felt so smart icl #damn i used all tags i could so I'll just say that I'm in love with crafting once again and thank you for reading all this rambling #oscar piastri #lando norris #landoscar

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teapot-of-tyrahn · 2 months ago

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hello !!! i'm ...

➟ sugar !! i also go by charlie , echo , scott , timmy -- call me whatever's more comfortable for u !!

➟ i'm genderfluid, asexual and biromantic + greyromantic !!

➟ my CURRENT hyperfixations are on NINJAGO and the TRAFFIC LIFE SERIES !! if you're seeing THIS pinned introduction, TRAFFIC LIFE SERIES is currently the MAIN brainrot !

➟ i am a 🚸 MINOR ⚠️ !! please interact with this in mind !!!

➟ i have GAD [ generalized anxiety disorder ] , separation anxiety disorder , social anxiety disorder , selective mutism , depression , DPD [dependent personality disorder] , ARFID [ avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder ] , and involuntary age regression ! though these topics probably won't be discussed at length , please keep them in mind when interacting with me !! at times i may go NON-VERBAL or slip into LITTESPACE , and i ask you be patient with me at those times, thank you !

➟ this is a FANDOM SIDEBLOG - my main blog is @sugrx !! here is where i post FANFICTION, FANART, ANALYSISES , AUS, USERBOXES,,, etc !!

➟ basic ! queerphobes, xenophobes, misognists, sexists, ableists, racists, terfs, maps, pedos, fatphobes, etc - any and all bigots of ANY shape or form !! ➟ nsfw / fetish / kink blogs !! again , i am a MINOR , and though i'm fine with having mutuals who ARE 18+ , i'd rather avoid 18+ content , thank you !!

#tag system is simple ! ;;#writing is in →#my writing #and art is in →#my art #!!#most of my fandom-related content falls into either of those categories . i try to keep my system so it's not too difficult to navigate!#i also have a tendency to ramble - i put // in order to differentiate between tag rambles and actual tags #for example!#//#pinned introduction #trafficblr #hermitblr #mcytblr #life series #blog intro #///#ta-daa !#though usually actual tags come first and ramble tags are at the bottom for algorithum purposes !#anyway. i decided to make two SEPERATE intro posts because i couldn't decide on which theme to go w/ for it and couldn't find a way to -#combine them in a way which didn't clash LOL #this is also my first time talking abt copinglink on tumblr !! thought this be the best place to put this since my linktypes r fictional #i'm hoping it will help me deal with my anxiety better and stop w/ other actual bad coping habits !!#i don’t know TOO much abt the alter human community so pls lmk if I’m not allowed to kin this way / coping link is problematic ;; /gen #i did some research and couldn't find anything saying it was offensive / controversial and i just think it would be a healthy-#-way to gain confidence and adapt to healthy coping ! but pls lmk if this is discomfiting / upsetting to anyone and i'll stop !#or at least not mention it publicly . i mostly only copinglink around close mutuals / friends anyway -#- and tend to consider myself an ' au ' / separate from distinctly canon so don't mind referring to them as separate entites at all #if that makes ppl more comfortable !!

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raytorosaurus · 2 years ago

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i don't believe i've ever seen the clip of ray apologizing to mikey for the perfectionism while writing thing, would you happen to know what interview it's from? <3

yeah sure! it was tom bryant, who'd known the band a long time, interviewing them in 2011 for a ten-year retrospective (rebloggable here). they talked about tough times in the band's history, especially how they all lost their minds in the paramour - gerard and ray in particular got deeply obsessive about the album. even then, based on every interview i've seen, that was the height of the interpersonal tension between the four of them over the whole ten years. and they all openly acknowledged it and apologised and moved on...literally the least messy emo band ever 😭

this is the relevant part but the whole interview's a good read:

then tom bryant went into more detail on it in one of the tougher sections of not the life it seems to read:

and then talks about the immediate aftermath, which led to flw, which saved the album:

bryant's biography is definitely a little sensationalised or biased at times but honestly not as much as it could easily have been imo, and i like that he pointed out how brave of ray it was to make that apology so plainly. that was definitely one of the things that really drew me to ray early on - you can beat yourself up or put yourself down in a self-deprecating way over your flaws and mistakes or you can acknowledge them and consciously decide not to repeat them. and the second one isn't an easy thing to do so it's something i respect so much about him :')

#i don't have my hard copy of ntlis it seems on me to give a page number but it's in the paramour chapter so not too hard to find #and i dont have time to type out alt text rn sorry but I'll try to come back and add it later!#interview #mcr history #mcr talk #parade #paramour #ntlis #(just trying to get into the habit of better tagging things for future reference LMAO)#answered #mikey way #ray toro #gerard way

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front-facing-pokemon · 1 year ago

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#WOOOOAAHHH THEY'RE TRANSPARENT!! I THOUGHT REGIICE WAS BLUE BUT LIKE #i guess it makes sense that they're actually transparent! 'cuz! they're made of ice! i kinda wish they were blue here since that's like #more iconic and i feel like they'd be more recognizable if they were transparent but i guess this ALSO looks cool #and no‚ the stuff in there is not‚ like. its brain or whatever. it's just FULLY transparent and you can see through to my desktop wallpaper #and that's what's showing through its head. which is like cool but i'm worried makes this guy a little bit less visually distinct #actually yeah it kinda does LEMME redo this one but with a blank background and see if it looks any better #yyyeeeeaaahh okay this helps a bit. more visual clarity. i'll replace it with the one where you Can't see my desktop wallpaper #i might leave that version under the cut actually. but i'd have to add some text to the post which i generally don't like doing. just to #explain what it is. cuz not everyone is gonna read these tags #i'll just. leave it the way it is. in two weeks i'll just hope i remember what wallpaper i had applied when i took the original image #cuz i have it set to change every night through a set list of images that i update whenever i find a new image i like that's roughly #the resolution of my monitor. i dunno if anyone else does this #most irrelevant tags ever #regice #thanks for the catch on the spelling nidoskull

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waterfallofspace · 1 year ago

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When H/awks gets a voice message from D/abi, he doesn't have a clue what he's getting into. (Strongly implied kink!Hawks)

First H/otwings wav~ (and content at all~). It's nothing super big, just a little idea I've had for a bit, and I had time to throw something together~ Mayyybe the fact (most of) it's a voice message can forgive the quality issues? <3

#waterfallwav #I've been wanting to do another wav for a little bit #and finally got the house free to record!#i find their voices SO much fun #even if im not GOOD at them #i have a blast trying hahaha~#also wanna give a lil 'in-the-tags' thank you to people who have requested wavs #or given feedback to any of them!!#it really means so much to know people not only LIKE them #but care enough to say 'hey- heres my suggestion on what to work on to get better'#im the type to not realllly believe compliments (even tho i do APPRECIATE them)#so having someone (especially someone ID consider talented at it)#be like hey. this is how you can get better but its still good either way #that means the world to me <333 #ALRIGHT ALRIGHT I'll stop rambling in these tags hahaha~#you know who you are and if you see this- thank you <3 #thanks for listening and I hope you enjoy!!#d/abi #h/otwings #h/awks

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edwardbonnets · 1 year ago

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so it's my birthday today!!! 😎 i'm 23 years old, and i've had this blog for almost 3 years now, so i thought now is as good a time as any to celebrate!

because i thought it would be fun, i've decided to curate a list of some of my favorite blorbos in their respective pairings and put them into this poll! after a week, i will make a special gifset for the ships that make it into the top 5 spots!

the winning ships will be announced in their own special post and anyone can join in on the fun and make a gifset/fan-art/writing/etc of the top 5 ships as well! just @ me in the post or include the tag #emilysbbb and i'll be sure to share it! :D

rules:

reblogs aren't necessary but are greatly appreciated!

if you want to, you can put your 2nd and 3rd choices in the tags, i'll make sure to add those to the calculations when the poll is over! :)

this is a very silly, unserious poll, and this is not my complete and definitive list of favorite ships (since tumblr polls only allow 12 choices rip), this is all just for funsies!

tagging some mutuals below the cut:

no pressure to reblog!! just thought it would be fun to give yall a heads up and the chance to be the first ones to vote! <3

@latr1nal1a @willgaham @milkovichys @his-name-is-ed @stedebonnets @blakbonnet @rainbowbonnet @kendallroycos @userstede @figmentof @captain-flint @cobbbvanth @startreklesbian @crowleyaj @queerbuck @djarin @djaarins @captain-stede @torybrennan @seance @dykefaggotry @ad-astrah @nobie @edwarbteach @stars-bean @jacobglaser

#emilysbbb #(birthday blorbos bonanza)#thats the tag i'll use for this #is it very stupid and silly??? yes it is #but im an adult and i get to celebrate my birthday how i want sdhfksd #hopefully this actually works out the way i imagined it would in my head lmaooo #considering the state of my blog i have a pretty good idea whats going to make it in the top 5 lol #but still fun to see the way the polls might turn out!!!#a week from now i will be home in my new apartment with my roomies and my computer and i cant wait!!!#also i might be missing a few mutuals im so sorry i really need to find a way to better organize who is and who isnt a mutual sdjfhs #just know if ur my mutual you are extra specially invited to my birthday bonanza <3 #emily.txt #poll

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robinsnest2111 · 4 months ago

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great. nightmares about my fuck up as soon as i close my eyes 👍

#with an added bonus of the customer mad at me coming in to yell at me infront of everyone at work #and everyone boycotting my place of work. forcing them to close down. me losing my job over this. everyone in town hating me #me having to leave and hope none of this spreads further than a couple towns over or else i'll never find work again #because everyone knows that I Am the Bad Employee and no one wants to hire me #essentially meaning i have to starve on the streets because everyone hates me and made it impossible for me to make a living in this world #this fuck up really triggered the hell out of me #the nature of the fuck up the involvement of a social media shitstorm and tagging the higher ups #and the shitstorm reaching several businesses in town and word getting back to my boss and just the whole public outcry of it all #still makes me want to rip out my organs and sink into the earth and die die die die die die die die die #at this point i'd love for these people to find my instagram profile and send me hateful dms and death threats #just so i know they have the right place to let out their anger and frustration #so they know it's not on my place of work or any of my coworkers but solely on me #wanna quit my job and take all the blame and nasty words to wash the reputation of my place of work clean again #i tarnished it so i must clean it. take all the blame because i am the one who fucked up #the need to fix it and make it better any way possible is eating me alive

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theflyingfeeling · 1 year ago

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💖 it's here, it's pink, it's sparkly, and full of fluff 💖

Hiiiiii and welcome to witness my attempt at an Olli/Allu Advent Calendar, in which I'll give you ~a cute little something~ about these two idiots in love almost every day until December 24! My plan is to use prompts from this list to either write a fic based on the prompt or just some good ol' delulu thoughts if all else fails. I cannot guarantee there'll be a post literally every day, but I'm really excited to try this out and I thank you for your support along the way in advance 💝

The biggest thanks and a million hugs go to one of my favourite human beings @kraeuterhexchen for making the adorable banner!! I mean helloooooo?? 😭 Go show them some love ❣️

For December 1, the prompt list is titled One True Pairing Moments, and the prompt I chose was 'calling just to hear their voice' 🥺 You can read the fic below, I hope you like it <3

PS. Even though this is an advent calendar of sorts, I'm not planning on making this particularly Christmassy. I hope no one minds terribly!

Falling for Aleksi had, in a way, sneaked up on Olli, at least if he fooled himself a little. He could pretend he didn’t feel any different about the man than he did about, say, Joonas or Tommi, but that strategy only worked for so long – that is to say, approximately until Aleksi as much as smiled softly at him from across a room or bumped his shoulder into his jovially when walking down the street and Olli would feel his breath getting caught in his throat or stumble in his words, his tongue tangled like shoelaces, which was so unlike him as well and frustrated him to no end. It really took a special kind of fool to not only develop some level of feelings for a friend, a colleague, a bandmate for Christ’s sake, but also become so hopelessly enamored with him that you rolled awake in bed in the dead of night, grabbing your phone and tossing it back on the nightstand again and again because you couldn’t decide whether or not you should, on some erratic 2 o’clock impulse, call him to let him know he was the very reason for your insomnia.

Turning on his back, Olli groaned (only a little desperately) as he remembered losing himself in the lingering hug they had shared just before the arrivals lobby at the airport, inhaling Aleksi’s scent and wishing they wouldn’t have to go home just yet, even if Olli was more than ready to finally sleep in his own bed again. Ironically, ever since they had returned home from tour, Olli had spent night after sleepless night missing Aleksi terribly: his stupid jokes and playful banter that bordered on being flirtatious if Olli allowed himself the benefit of delusion; his quick, subtle smiles that probably meant nothing; his little touches Olli hoped meant something; his smell and his touch and the softness of his hair at the back of his neck, compared to which the blanket Olli was grasping in his fist was like sandpaper. (How he had come to know of the qualities of Aleksi’s hair in such detail, he preferred not to dwell on too much to save himself from the heartache, so let’s just leave it at ‘stressful, emotional week far away from home’ and ‘a little too much to drink’).

Above all, Olli missed Aleksi’s voice. He hadn’t even thought that was possible, until the other morning when Olli had woken up to a voice message Aleksi had left just hours earlier, rambling about a song idea he had gotten in the middle of the night – something he did from time to time – and Olli had spent the next several minutes replaying it over and over again as he had lied in bed procrastinating getting up and and instead closing his eyes to better imagine Aleksi lying there beside him, turned on his side to face Olli, talking to him sleepily like they often did when they shared a room on tour and were just too lazy to join others at breakfast. Much like the hug at the airport, Olli wished those moments would have lasted way longer than they did, often ending abruptly when either of their phones would go off with Santeri’s name on the screen, a passive-aggressive interruption to the soft, low tone of Aleksi’s early-morning thoughts. (Sometimes, when Olli was lucky enough, he had been blessed with the bliss of feeling the light touch of a fingertip tracing along his collarbone, cut short just as frustratingly by their well-meaning tour manager politely enquiring whether the two of them had plans of dragging themselves downstairs for some toast and coffee, or if they’d rather starve until lunchtime, for which he wasn’t at all sure they’d even have time that day.)

The lovesick idiot that he was, his thumb hovered over the ‘play’ button of Aleksi’s voice message, probably for the millionth time that week. The chest-carving hesitation turned into a heart flip when he noticed Aleksi was online.

Then Aleksi began to type, and Olli held his breath the entire time until a new message appeared in the thread, anticipation holding him by his throat.

You awake?

Olli exhaled and typed his affirmative reply, leaving out the reason why.

He blinked at the screen, waiting for Aleksi to ask him a random question that clearly couldn’t wait until morning, or perhaps talk about something related to another late-night Twitch stream (from what Olli had gathered, Aleksi had been doing a lot of those recently, and with his last remaining braincell Olli had managed to resist the temptation to watch every single one of them, because he knew that if he did, it would only dig his grave of pining and longing deeper, seeing Aleksi smile and giggle about but not being able to do that with him or snuggle up next to him when he was wearing that flannel Olli often used as a blanket in the tour bus). But instead of another text appearing on the screen, Olli’s phone began to vibrate in his hand, and it took him an embarrassingly long while to understand it was because Aleksi was calling him.

“Hi,” he sighed when he finally collected himself enough to speak. He prayed he’d be able to hear what Aleksi was going to say from the thumping heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Hi,” a soft voice said. “Sorry, I know it’s late…”

“No, not at all,” Olli hurried to say, “I mean, I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close, actually.” Part of him hoped Aleksi wouldn’t ask about it, but in some foolhardy way the possibility intrigued him.

Nothing much, he would have likely said anyway, but what would happen if he told Aleksi how it really was? That he squeezed his pillow imagining it was him instead, or wailed into it because something had reminded him of a moment-that-was-probably-not-a-Moment™ they had shared? What would Aleksi say if he knew Olli sometimes touched himself the way Aleksi had touched him That One Night they never talked about? The only obstacle between Olli and that knowledge was a bottomless ocean of cold sweat and cowardice, and Olli had never been a great swimmer.

“So, ummm…,” Olli said when Aleksi’s end stayed silent. “What’s up?”

A short breath of laughter sounded through the phone line.

“Honestly? I don’t know, I… It’s just been a… weird week, I guess.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, like… my head’s just been so full of… everything and… I’ve been so busy and kinda tense and… fuck, this is going to sound crazy,” Aleksi laughed that brief laugh again, although to Olli it didn’t sound particularly cheerful. Tired, more like. Strained, somehow. Not sad, but definitely a little troubled, and Olli intended to find out why.

“I’m all for crazy, you know.” Olli hoped his sorry attempt to lighten Aleksi’s mood would work, and so he smiled in relief when he heard Aleksi chuckle at his comment.

“I know,” Aleksi said softly, in that tone of voice that had Olli melt against his bedsheets. “So yeah, it’s been a rough week, but… in between all that stupid shit, I’ve been thinking a lot about… umm… well, the tour and– and… about you, for some reason,” (the troubled laugh made its return) “and… yeah. That’s sort of helped me a lot recently.”

Olli listened to the words carefully, not fully believing what he was hearing, yet clinging on to them until they were all but swirling around in his otherwise empty head like dry leaves in October wind.

“And tonight I just couldn’t fucking sleep for some reason and nothing I did seemed to help and so I thought I’d call you. And I’m–” If it hadn’t been dead silent otherwise, Olli wouldn’t have heard the shaky breath Aleksi paused to take, “I’m sorry I’m calling you at this hour and bothering you with this all but I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. To see if that would help.”

“Does it?” Olli asked. Aleksi’s confession had made him clasp his blanket close to his chest, as if that would do anything about his rapidly beating heart.

“Yeah. It does. So maybe just… keep talking?”

Despite his mind living a life of its own, completely unfit to form a single coherent thought, for Aleksi’s sake Olli tried his best to think of something to say, but everything he came up with was something he was not ready to tell him quite yet.

“Uuummmm…” he said to buy himself some time, but while he waited for his useless brain and mouth to form any actual words, Aleksi spoke again.

“Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry, this is too weird, I shouldn’t have– I’ll let you go back to–”

“I miss you,” Olli blurted before Aleksi would hang up on him. He squeezed his eyes shut when Aleksi went silent, too silent for too long for it to mean any good.

The line stayed open, however, which Olli took as a positive sign, even if the seconds during which all Olli could hear was Aleksi's quiet breathing seemed endless.

“And I you,” Aleksi finally replied. “A little too much, probably, or at least that’s what it feels like,” he chuckled. Olli almost missed the quiet sniff that followed.

He had to steel himself for his next question.

“What do you mean?”

“Just… forget it.” Aleksi said quietly. Contrary to Aleksi’s request, Olli knew he was going to all but ‘forget it’ for the next 3-5 business days; mentally he booked all his evenings as well as most of his mornings and noons for pondering what exactly had been in Aleksi’s mind in that moment or why he had sounded so sombre, almost disappointed. He’d probably never come to any satisfactory conclusion about it though, at least not without a little help from Aleksi himself.

A ridiculous idea popped into his head, and before he could stop himself, the words flooded out of his mouth.

“Do you wanna come over some time? To hang out? When your schedule’s a little less tight, I mean.” He sucked on his lips and closed his eyes as he waited for Aleksi’s answer, ready to hang up the moment he’d decline the offer on some obvious and logical reason for why Aleksi couldn’t possibly make nor want to take a trip to the north to see him, such as ‘didn’t we just spend over two months on the road together?’ or ‘damn, buddy, I miss you alright but not quite that much, I’ve done enough sitting in public transportation for one year, thank you very much lol’ or ‘what about Rilla?’

“You could take Rilla with you, you know.” Olli hurried to say, just in case, the deranged part of his brain thinking there might be a chance Aleksi might be at least considering it.

“Oh! Well, umm… I actually might have time next week? If– if you’re actually being serious about this.”

Funny you should ask, Aleksi; I’ve actually never been more serious about anything in my entire life than I am about having you here with me so that I can hold you and be held by you and see your face when I wake up in the morning and say goodnight to your annoyingly cute face instead of via text message and maybe, if the stars are in position and the northern wind won’t discourage me too much, I might actually be brave enough to torment you with the knowledge of just how miserable I’ve been since we last saw each other.

“I think it would be cool,” he said, because he had a feeling what he wanted to say would’ve been a tad too much and sudden. “I mean, if you’re up for it, of course. I understand if you can’t make it though, I know you have all those side projects.”

“No, I think it might actually do me some good to get out of the capital area for change.” Then there was a muffled ‘ouch’, followed by a laugh that sounded much brighter than any of the other ones Olli had heard from Aleksi that night. “Sorry, correction, it might do us some good. Rilla just told me she’s most definitely coming too. Rilla, stop nibbling on my toes!”

Olli smiled tiredly at the mental image that was painted in his mind of Aleksi and Rilla cuddling in bed, both minding their own business from what it seemed while still minding each other as well, very much indeed.

“I’ll be sure to set up a bed for her in the guest room.”

“The guest room? Do you not know her at all? If she’s not getting the master bedroom, she’ll ruin all your rugs and most of your shoes. Probably also gossip about you to all the neighbourhood dogs. And she’s brutal.”

Olli held his stomach as he laughed, tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes. In his defence, it was late and he was finally becoming tired, thus too far gone to help himself, let alone feel embarrassed about being in stitches about something Aleksi had said that was only mildly amusing. (It wasn’t the first time that had happened either, and likely not the last time.)

“So yeah, ummm, I can take a look at some flight options for next week and let you know, alright? I’m gonna let you sleep now and… I should get some myself too.”

Olli wanted to tell Aleksi he’d love to stay up chatting until dawn, but the yawn he let out when he opened his mouth to speak implied Aleksi had a point.

“Yeah, let me know. And… thanks for calling, I… you have no idea how much I needed this tonight.”

That was as close to a confession as Olli was able to get as of now.

“Probably not half as much as I did.”

Olli chuckled at Aleksi’s response, mostly to hide his own agony.

If only you knew. If only I knew how to tell you.

It didn’t take long for Olli to doze off after they hung up, and when he woke up to the kids from next door having a snowball fight under his window in the morning, he noticed new messages from Aleksi, sent half an hour after their phone call had ended, complete with screen captions of airplane schedules.

Would these days work for you? I might be free all week actually 😇

Olli cuddled into his pillow while typing his reply, hoping it wouldn’t wake up Aleksi.

yeah I’m free as well. I’ll pick you two up from the airport 🖤

From then on, Olli started counting the days until he’d see Aleksi again.

#blind channel fanfiction #blind channel rpf #ollixallu #24 days of gift-giving by theflyingfeeling #<- that's the tag i'll be using for these btw #everyone stop and look at the banner!! 🥺💖#it's not QUITE like the original one ju made first but maybe one day you'll get to see that masterpiece as well 😏#but ooff the way i've gone from having 'a plan' to having 'a better plan' to having 'no plan whatsoever' with this? 😂#so yeah idk what kinda fics/posts there'll be in this series... stay tuned and see for yourself! 🤭#some of them might be in the same universe/plot. others may not. who knows? not i 😌#(...but as you can see from this fic the door for a multiple-part story is definitely open 👀)#some of the fics may not even be based on a prompt though if i'm not feeling like it. honestly i'm curious to see how this will turn out!#(and if this ends up being the only post i ever make that's alright too! i refuse to bully myself with a hobby i'm doing for free <3)#however: i'm not taking requests per say BUT feel free to snoop on the prompts for each day and send me your ideas or hopeful wishes 👀#there are certain ones i'm more drawn to but i haven't really set anything in stone #one could say i'm just going with the flow. fuck around and find out if you will ✨#also: not sure if/when i'll be bothered to post any of these on ao3 #probably i'll just see how many fics i manage to actually finish and dump them all at once on ao3 on christmas day lol #anyway! enjoy & let me hear from you <3

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