#the break was helpful and needed though

[lazylittledragon]

I saw on your IG you had some nasty comments about this but as a curvy girl, THANK YOU for the way you draw Karlach and Shadowheart's bodies!! They're both so soft looking :')

YOU'RE SO WELCOME LET THEM BE SQUISHY

[coloredcompulsion]

Mithrun being a mostly autonomous disabled person with caretakers is incredibly important to me, building up routine habits in order to "fully function" while also still requiring help is so real tbh

[vaggieslefteye]

HUSK, Hotel Bartender & Concierge | 1x04 - Masquerade

"Oh, I FORGOT — you're the wise-old bartender who's seen it all! Get the fuck over yourself and pour me a real drink."

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Happy Halloween and Wei Wuxian day!

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Waiting

Chapter WC: 8,545

Chapter Tags/Warnings: none, maybe some happy tears

A/N: We are crawling towards...certain events, and I feel compelled to once again put out a PSA that canon divergence can and will happen at any time. In like a squiggly line kind of way.

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Nadiem, 20 BBY

When you wake, it's morning, and the first rays of pink light are shining through the boarded up windows. Your head is still throbbing, and the nausea is still there, but the pain has receded, and you find yourself able to breathe and sit up without much difficulty. The room is quiet, the only noises the hum of the medical equipment and the steady breathing of the men and civilians sleeping around you.

You look over at the bed beside yours, expecting to see the child. But instead, there's only an empty space. The sheets are rumpled, and there's a hint of blood, but the child himself is nowhere to be found. Your chest tightens, a stab of panic lancing through you, and you start to scramble out of bed, only to stop, a hand pressed to your temple as the room spins.

"Where—"

"He's with the others," Wise interrupts.

You look up to find him sitting at a nearby desk, his feet propped up and a datapad in his hand. He's wearing a pair of glasses, his brow furrowed as he scans the screen, and he doesn't bother looking up as he continues speaking.

"He woke up about an hour ago. Did a couple scans, and everything came back fine. I wanted him to stay here for a while, but he was having none of it," he explains, his eyes flitting to you and his mouth twisting into a wry smile. "I tried to tell him that there's a war going on, and that he can't just wander around a bombed out city, but he wasn't having it."

"And what, you let him?" you ask, incredulous.

"I don't think anyone has ever accused me of being a pushover before, sir," Wise replies, his tone dry. "He's fine. Snap and his little fan club are with him. He's probably showing them how to hotwire a speeder bike."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I guess I'm not surprised," you mumble. You rub your face, wincing at the ache in your jaw, and Wise hums, his eyes returning to the screen.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, his tone casual.

"Like shit," you admit, and his lips quirk up slightly. "My head hurts, and I feel like I got trampled by a herd of bantha."

"Sounds about right," he shrugs. He finally looks up at you, his eyebrow arching over the rim of his glasses, and his lips press into a thin line. "You should really eat something."

You hesitate, a sudden queasiness rising in your stomach, and the idea of eating anything is repulsive. But you know that Wise is right. It's been a long time since you've had a proper meal, and the exertion from earlier certainly hasn't helped matters.

"I will," you say.

He hums again, a knowing look on his face, and he pushes the glasses onto his head, setting the datapad aside. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and his eyes narrow.

"Look," Wise starts. He pauses, his gaze drifting over to the bed where the boy was sleeping. He seems to be searching for the words, his eyes flitting to the ceiling and the floor and anywhere but you. "What happened last night was...I can't even describe it."

"I know," you say quietly.

"You saved his life," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We both did."

"No," he counters. His hands clasp in front of him, and his brow furrows. "It was you. All you."

"Well, the bacta helped, too," you offer, and he rolls his eyes.

"Don't do that," he says, and there's a sharp edge to his tone. "Don't act like it was nothing. Don't make light of it."

You open your mouth, a retort on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. He's right, of course. And, if you're honest with yourself, a small part of you is proud. Proud that you were able to use the Force to heal someone. That you were able to do something good, something useful, for once.

And, more importantly, that it worked. Not just that the kid survived, but that you finally managed to do what you had never been able to do before. What Yaddle had tried to teach you and failed.

It's a victory.

A small victory, perhaps, but a victory nonetheless.

"Sorry," you mumble. Wise lets out a soft snort, and he shakes his head.

"I'm serious," he continues. "That was...that was something else. And I don't mean to be insubordinate or anything, but you scared the hell out of me."

"I know," you repeat.

"No," he argues, and his voice rises, his frustration seeping through. "I don't think you do."

Wise stops, his jaw clenching, and his fingers drum against his thigh. He takes a deep breath and squeezes his eyes shut, and his head dips, his gaze returning to his clasped hands.

"You're amazing," he tells you, his eyes flicking up. "And you're terrifying."

"That's what I hear," you joke, and he sighs.

"No," he says again. "No jokes. Not now. I'm serious."

"Wise," you begin, and he cuts you off.

"Let me finish," he interrupts, his voice stern. "Just listen, okay? Because I need to say this."

You nod, your lips pressing into a thin line. He takes another breath, his eyes closing again, and his shoulders slump.

"I've seen a lot of shit. Too much, really. But, this...I've never seen anything like this. What you did...what you did was nothing short of miraculous. It was fucking impossible."

You open your mouth to protest, but Wise holds a hand up, silencing you.

"Don't. I don't need a speech. Or a pep talk. Or whatever bullshit the Jedi like to spout."

His eyes open, and they're filled with an emotion that you can't quite place.

"I've spent my entire life watching my brothers die, and I've learned to accept it. I've made my peace with the fact that there's not much I can do, except try to make them comfortable and help them pass on peacefully," he says. "And you just...you just walked into that and changed everything. You did the impossible, and you saved a life. You gave a kid a chance. And it's..."

Wise trails off, his gaze shifting, and a sad, crooked smile appears.

 "I just want you to know that...that I do trust you. And that I believe in you. Even if I can't say the same about the rest of your kind," he finishes.

The silence settles between the two of you, and you can't help but stare. Wise has always been a man of little words, and this is probably the most you've ever heard him speak. It's an unexpected declaration, and it's hard not to feel moved by it. Especially coming from a man like him. A man who's seen so much, who's witnessed the worst the galaxy has to offer, who's watched his brothers die and had to move on.

You've always known that he cares about you, in his own way. But this is something else. This is trust. This is a level of respect and faith that you've never been given before. Not from the Republic, not from the Jedi Council, and certainly not from the Senate. And it's an honor to be on the receiving end of such an unshakable belief.

But at the same time, the burden of responsibility weighs heavily, and you know that you don't deserve it. That, even if you can't say it aloud, the truth is, he shouldn't trust you. Not after everything that has come to pass, and is still to come.

"I appreciate the sentiment," you finally manage, and the ghost of a smile flickers across his face. "But I'm not sure if I'm worthy of such praise."

Wise laughs, and the harshness in his eyes is gone.

"Well, that's just the problem with you Jedi types, isn't it?" he says, his voice light and teasing. "You're all so humble and self-sacrificing. It's almost painful."

"Don't forget wise and mysterious," you add, and he snorts.

"I'd hardly call you mysterious, General," he retorts. "As for the wise part, well, I'll reserve judgement on that until I see some evidence."

"I suppose you would be the expert on that," you counter, and he grins.

"You're damn right I am."

Seemingly satisfied, Wise turns away, moving through the rows of cots and checking on the wounded men. You watch him for a moment, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. 

The boy's survival is a miracle, and the knowledge that the Force can bring about such a thing even in dark times is a comfort. It's the kind of hope you desperately need. The kind that reminds you of what the Jedi Order stands for, and what you stand for.

It's the kind of hope that's been missing from your life for a very long time.

As your eyes fall closed again, drifting in and out of sleep, you think of the meadow and Rex. The feeling of being safe and secure, the warmth and the love. And the possibility.

You know it's dangerous to want, but you can't help yourself. You've never been able to, and it's the same now. It's foolish, and reckless, and stupid, but you can't stop the thoughts from crossing your mind.

A life with him. A simple, happy life, far away from the war and the chaos. Just the two of you, together. It's the future you want, and the thought that it might actually be possible is overwhelming.

Your eyes open as footsteps approach your cot, and the shadow of an armored figure blocks out the light.

"Congratulations, sir,” Booker announces as he looms over you. “You finally made Wise crack."

Booker's expression is neutral, his features calm and composed, but there's a gleam of worry in his eyes, and his hands are clenched into fists at his side. When you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the cot, his body tenses, and his gaze darts to Wise's back.

"Are you alright?" he asks quietly.

You nod, and the lines around his eyes deepen.

"Are you sure?" he presses, his hands hovering as if unsure what to do with them. "Wise said—"

"I'm fine," you interrupt. "It was...complicated. But I'm fine now. Promise."

Booker's shoulders relax, his face breaking into a relieved smile. His arms come up and wrap around your shoulders, and he pulls you in, squeezing tight. You laugh, patting his arm and trying to pull away, but he doesn't let go, his embrace almost crushing.

"You scared the hell out of me," he says, his voice muffled against your shoulder.

"Sorry," you reply, and he snorts.

"I don't even want to imagine what would happen to me if you died," he grumbles, and you sigh, your arms wrapping around his waist. "I'd probably end up in a medical facility. Or a psych ward."

"Oh, come on," you tease. "You'd survive without me."

Booker pulls back, his hands gripping your shoulders.

"Just...please don't do it again," he says quietly. "I know that's probably a lot to ask, considering the circumstances, but..."

"I'll try," you tell him. He sighs, releasing you, and his hand lingers on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "So, are you going to tell me how the kid is?"

"Oh, he can tell you himself," Booker replies with a laugh, and he backs away, heading for the door. "He's been waiting."

You can't help the grin that spreads across your face as Snap enters, the boy perched on his hip. His arms are wrapped around Snap's neck, his legs dangling, and his eyes are wide and bright. The bruises have faded, no bandages in sight. He's awake, alert, and full of energy, a far cry from the injured child from the night before.

"Hi, General," the boy chirps, and you smile, gesturing for Snap to approach.

"Hi," you greet with a wave. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Yep," he replies. He squirms until Snap sets him down, the boy immediately moving to the bed. He climbs up, and Wise is quick to react, sliding a pillow between his head and the wall.

"How are you feeling?" Wise asks as he runs a medscanner the child, checking his vitals. The boy shrugs, fiddling with his blanket.

"Good," the boy answers. His eyes widen, and his gaze darts to you. "Oh! Thank you for saving me."

"Of course," you reply. You gesture to the medscanner, raising an eyebrow. "What does the scan say?"

"Nothing to be worried about," Wise says, turning the scanner so you can see the screen. "All vitals are within normal range, and there's no sign of injury or trauma."

"That's great," you murmur, relieved. "I'm glad to hear it."

The boy smiles, his eyes shining with excitement. He wriggles his way closer to you and reaches into the pocket of his borrowed trousers, sitting up on his knees to face you.

"This is for you," he declares proudly.

In his hand is a small flower, yellow petals curled at the edges and a green stem, the color a duller shade of what it once was. It's a little crushed, a few petals missing, but it's beautiful nonetheless.

"Wow," you gasp. "Thank you."

The boy beams, and he places the flower in your hand, his fingers lingering. You turn the flower in your palm, marveling at its beauty before tucking it behind your ear.

"There," you say. "What do you think?"

"It's pretty," he declares.

"Yeah, it is," you agree, and the boy giggles.

You can't help the smile that forms on your face, the sight of his happiness a joy in itself. After everything he's been through, everything he's endured, the fact that he's able to be so positive, so carefree, is inspiring.

It's the kind of innocence that's rare, the kind that's lost all too quickly in the galaxy, and it's precious. A reminder of the beauty and the wonder of life, of what the Force is truly meant for. Not for death and destruction, not for violence and chaos, but for light and love and hope. For creation and new life, and for the future.

You look up, finding Snap watching you, and he gives you a knowing smile. The expression on his face is familiar, and you realize with a start that it's pride. A warmth settles in your chest, and your throat constricts.

You've always believed in the good in the galaxy, in the strength and resilience of its people, but the past decade has worn away at that hope, and you've found yourself struggling to maintain it. Seeing the boy's resilience, the way he's overcome his trauma and is now able to smile and laugh and give others joy, is a testament to that strength.

It's a testament to the goodness and the compassion that exists in the universe, and it's a reminder that, even in the midst of darkness, there is light.

You swallow thickly, blinking a couple times and looking away, trying to gather yourself.

"Come on, kid. Let's go get some breakfast," Snap says. "I think there's still some of those sweet rolls left."

The boy perks up, his eyes widening, and he scrambles down from the bed. He reaches up, grabbing Wise's hand, and tugs, trying to pull him towards the door.

"Come on, come on."

Wise rolls his eyes, but he doesn't fight the pull. He allows himself to be led away, and the boy skips out of the room, his hand still holding onto Wise's. Snap follows, giving you a final nod before disappearing from sight.

Booker waits until the two of them are gone before turning to face you, letting out a sigh.

"The Council wants to speak to you," he informs you, his voice low. "I tried to hold them off as long as I could, but apparently they're eager to hear your report."

"Wonderful," you mutter. 

You can't imagine why the Council would want an immediate debrief. Usually they're happy enough to read your reports. Or not read them. You've learned to accept that most of the Council rarely pays any attention to anything you say or do. Unless they think you're doing something wrong. Which you frequently are. 

In this case, though, you've done nothing out of the ordinary, at least as far as they're concerned. It doesn't make any sense.

Then again, it's the Council.

They could be having a meeting to discuss the weather, and it would still feel important.

"Any idea what this is about?" you ask, and Booker shakes his head.

"They didn't say," he answers. "But I'm gonna guess it's not about that vacation to Zeltron I've been asking about."

You snort, rubbing your temples. Your head is still pounding, and you can feel the fatigue weighing on you, but you're not going to get a break. Not anytime soon. You glance at the door, debating whether or not you should just run, and Booker chuckles, seemingly reading your mind.

"They're not going to like that," he warns.

"What else is new," you grumble. You sigh, pushing yourself upright and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. "Alright. I guess we should get this over with.”

"Don't worry," he starts, offering you a hand. You accept it, and he helps pull you to your feet, placing a steadying hand on your arm. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll handle it with your usual grace and charm."

"I'll do my best," you mumble, and Booker chuckles. His grip tightens as the world tilts, and he takes a step closer, his free hand moving to your back.

"Easy there," he says. He pauses, his expression sobering. "You sure you're up for this?"

"No choice," you answer, and his brow furrows.

"There's always a choice."

"Yeah, well, I made mine about thirty years ago," you mutter. You shake your head, trying to dispel the dizziness. It's slow to abate, and you close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Do you want me to get Wise?"

"Please don't," you groan. You know he would come, but you also know he'd give you an earful. And more than likely try to force feed you some of the vile liquid he insists on calling soup. "I've had enough lectures from him for now."

"That bad, huh?"

You breathe through the pain, and after a while, the sensation subsides. You open your eyes, and the room comes back into focus.

"Worse," you say. You straighten, pulling away from him, and give him a weak smile. "Thanks."

"No problem," he replies, and you step away, taking a moment to center yourself. The headache is still there, and your limbs feel heavy, but it could be worse. "Dash has some caf waiting for you at the command tent."

"Great, thanks," you murmur. You're about to ask if you have time for a shower, but Booker's commlink beeps.

"Commander, the Council is waiting," Dash's voice says, and you sigh. Of course they are.

"Copy that," Booker answers, and he gives you an apologetic smile. "Looks like they're not in the mood for excuses."

"Of course not," you grumble. You roll your eyes and start to head towards the door, but Booker stops you, his hand resting on your arm.

"You don't have to do this," he says. "We can just pretend the connection was bad, and—"

"No, it's fine," you cut him off. "I'll deal with them. I always do."

"You're a brave woman," he jokes, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"No, I'm just used to it," you correct. You reach up and touch the flower in your hair, the memory of the boy's smile warming your heart. "There are worse things."

"I'll take your word for it," he mutters, and the two of you leave the medbay, heading towards the command station. The streets are quiet, the morning still too young for much activity, and you use the time to compose yourself. It's a peaceful silence, the first rays of dawn lighting the sky, and you can't help but enjoy the stillness.

But, like all things, it doesn't last long.

The Council is already connected when you enter, and you're greeted by the holographic forms of Master Mace, Master Mundi, Master Plo, and Obi-Wan. You bow, greeting each member in turn, and they acknowledge you with a nod.

Master Mace is as stern as ever, his expression blank and his gaze assessing. Master Plo's mouth is hidden behind his mask, but the creases around his eyes betray his concern. Master Mundi is stoic, as usual, but you can tell he's not happy. Out of the four of them, Obi-Wan's expression is the most telling. He's trying to hide it, but the worry is written all over his face, and his hands are clasped together tightly, his fingers entwined.

You give him a smile, trying to reassure him, but it only seems to make him more uneasy. You're sure you look a mess, with a fresh bacta patch on your forehead and bloodshot eyes. You can feel the dried blood on your nose, and your hair is sticking up at odd angles, but it's the least of your worries.

"General," Mace says. His tone is flat, and you can't help but notice the tightness of his expression. Something's wrong. "It's good to see you’re alive and well."

"Thank you, Master," you reply, bowing your head respectfully. "It's good to be seen."

Obi-Wan's frown cracks, and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. Booker looks away and disguises a laugh as a cough. Mace gives the two of you a hard stare, and you resist the urge to smirk. It's a bad habit, but sometimes it's impossible to resist. Especially around Obi-Wan.

Mace's eyes narrow, and he gives you a pointed look.

"You should have checked in earlier," he chides. "Your mission report was due twelve hours ago."

"My apologies, Masters," you answer. "The situation here was...complicated."

"So we've heard," Plo interjects, his tone grave. "We'd like to hear your account."

"Of course," you respond. You step forward, clasping your hands behind your back, and the weight of the four pairs of eyes resting on you is almost stifling. You take a moment to collect your thoughts, trying to organize your memories of the battle. 

Dash steps into the tent, a mug of caf in hand. He's not wearing his helmet, and he gives you a quick salute, placing the mug on the table. The two of you share a look, the brief eye contact conveying all that needs to be said.

You've got this.

Dash offers you a small, reassuring smile and exits the tent. You watch him go, and you find yourself feeling oddly emboldened. Whatever the Council wants, whatever they're going to say, you can handle it.

"Would you like me to rehash what Luminara has already told you?" you ask, and the Councilors exchange a glance. "Or would you like me to skip ahead to the part where the droid forces employed droids armed with cortosis?"

"We have read her report," Mace says, his tone clipped.

"But we'd like to hear it from your perspective," Plo adds, his gaze softening. "Please."

"Very well," you agree.

You spend the next hour relaying the details of the battle, describing the initial landing and the subsequent deployment. You talk about the engagement, the tactics, and the losses, and you're careful to note any mistakes and shortcomings. There are plenty to choose from, and you can't help but cringe as you recount them.

You're no fool. You know that the Council doesn't need a detailed recitation. They've already read the reports, and the intel from the battle, and the aftermath. You're not telling them anything they don't already know. But the way they watch you, as if they're waiting for you to slip up, or miss something, or fail to meet some unspoken standard, it's unnerving. And, as always, it's exhausting.

"It was an impressive victory," Obi-Wan offers. "Despite the unexpected complications."

"Thank you," you murmur, giving him a slight smile. You can't bring yourself to look at Mace. "But we could have done better. I could have done better."

"It was a difficult battle," Master Plo points out, and you shake your head.

"It doesn't matter," you counter. "In the end, the Republic suffered great losses. And the civilians here suffered most of all. Their lives were disrupted, and their homes were destroyed. There were thousands of casualties, and many more wounded."

The Council members fall silent, and you can't help but glance at Mace, who meets your gaze with a cool, indifferent expression.

"The Separatists are not the only ones who have failed here," you continue. "We have, too. And the people of Nadiem will have to live with the consequences."

You look at the holograms of the Councilors, their images flickering in and out. They're staring at you, their faces impassive, and you can't tell what they're thinking. Not that you ever can, really, but it's even more frustrating now, and the anger begins to build, a low simmering heat.

"Your compassion does you credit, General," Master Mundi says, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. He may as well have called you naïve. Or stupid. "But the war effort must take precedence."

You open your mouth to protest, but Obi-Wan steps in, his voice calm and reassuring.

"With all due respect, Master, I believe the General's point is valid," he interjects. He's addressing Mundi, but his eyes are fixed on you, his expression gentle. "These are people's lives we are discussing, and their safety and security are our responsibility. The fact that the Separatists attacked here is troubling, and we must consider why."

"I agree," Mace cuts in. He gives Obi-Wan a pointed look. "But there is another matter we must discuss."

You look at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He's clearly holding something back, and your mind races, trying to figure out what it could be. There's an odd energy in the air, a strange sense of anticipation, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

You'd managed to keep yourself contained throughout the battle, pushing aside your emotions and focusing on the task at hand. You'd managed to ignore the anger and the frustration and the fear. But now, in the silence of the tent, surrounded by the familiar faces of the Council, the walls you'd erected begin to crumble.

They can't possibly know. There's no way they could. You'd been careful. Extremely careful. You'd kept everything under control. Obi-Wan had agreed to keep your vision to himself, and as tentative as your bond was, you trusted him to keep his word. He would not betray you again, of that you were certain.

The Council wasn't wholly unaware of your fragile mental state, either. The events of the last several months had made that abundantly, and unfortunately, apparent. It wasn't something you were proud of, but it was a truth that couldn't be ignored. But there was an unspoken agreement that as long as you continued to function, continue to fight, and continue to do your job, it wouldn't become a problem.

It was a fragile balance, and a thin line to walk, but you'd managed to do it so far. So why should they worry about you now?

As Mace's eyes bore into yours, his mouth pressed into a thin line, you suddenly wonder if that assumption had been incorrect. If the Council knew more than they let on. If the Force had shown them what it had shown you. Your fall.

Finally, Mace sighs, his hands folding in front of him.

"We have a task for you, General.”

You blink, taken aback. The relief is immediate, and you breathe a silent sigh. They didn't know about the vision. They had no idea. It was just another mission.

"A task?"

"General Skywalker and the 501st have been deployed to Duro. We would like you to join him," Mace informs you, and you blink, taken aback. It's not what you expected, and the Council seems to be just as surprised. Master Mundi, in particular, doesn't seem pleased by the idea.

"Me?" you question. "Why me? Shouldn't Obi-Wan accompany him?"

"Obi-Wan has other responsibilities," Mace replies, his voice flat. “And your brigade is the closest, both in terms of location and skill set. General Krell's brigade has recently suffered a devastating loss, and they are in no condition to provide the assistance required. You are the best suited for the task."

You open your mouth to argue, to protest, but the words die on your tongue. You're tired. And injured. And, honestly, a little confused. And frankly, you want nothing more than to finish the conversation, get some breakfast, and take a nap. But despite all of that, there's a hopeful flutter in your stomach, a spark of excitement that you can't deny.

You haven't seen Rex in months. If the Force was going to be kind and finally grant you this wish, well, who were you to argue?

Obi-Wan's eyes narrow, his brow furrowing as he studies you, and a small, knowing smile crosses his lips. You wrinkle your nose at him, and he gives you a wink.

You can't help but smirk, and you're about to make a retort, something about how he has no business being smug, but Mace clears his throat, and you turn your attention back to him. His eyes are boring into yours, his face still neutral, and his voice is sharp.

"Do you accept?"

You're not sure if there's a right answer. You're not sure if there's an acceptable answer.

It doesn't really matter.

"I accept," you say, and the words seem to echo in the room. “But may I ask, what exactly is the purpose of this mission?“

"The Separatists have established a foothold on Duro's flotilla of orbiting cities," Master Plo answers, his tone grave. "The Republic has managed to maintain control of the planet itself, but we have reason to suspect Grievous is planning to invade the surface and secure their resources in order to force the Chancellor's hand."

"What would be the point?" Booker asks. He's leaning against the desk, his arms crossed, and his expression is thoughtful. "Grievous knows that the planet is of little strategic value. So what’s his play?"

"The Duros' loyalty to the Republic is shaky at best," you answer, and Mace nods. "If they were to see the Chancellor unable to protect them, they could very well side with the Separatists."

"So this is about politics, not resources," Booker murmurs, and you nod.

"It seems so."

"You and the 419th are to join Skywalker's forces at these coordinates," Mace tells you. He leans forward and taps a button, sending a set of numbers to your datapad. You open the file and study the data, committing it to memory.

"The 501st is already en route," Obi-Wan adds. "They'll set up a perimeter around the planetary shield generators and begin preparations for the inevitable attack."

"How long will we have before that happens?" you ask.

"Hard to say," he admits. "But Grievous' forces were spotted in the system a little over a week ago, and it's only a matter of time before he gets his claws into something. The Chancellor is anxious to put a stop to this, and I don't blame him."

"Understood," you say, nodding. At your side, Booker shifts, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

"This place is still a mess. We can't just leave these people," he argues, and you give him a look.

"I'm aware," you hiss back. "But we're going."

"They're already in rough shape as it is. If we're not here, the Separatists could—"

"I said, I'm aware," you repeat, elbowing him in the ribs. He winces, rubbing his side, and shoots you an annoyed look. "I'm getting to that."

You turn back to the holograms and square your shoulders, giving the Council your most confident, charming smile.

"If I may, Masters," you start, and they wait, watching you with wary curiosity, "the 419th would like to extend our assistance here on Nadiem. While the city has been liberated, there are still many civilians in need of food, shelter, and medical attention. The local hospitals are overwhelmed, and the remaining infrastructure is not capable of providing the aid they need."

"And you would like us to send additional medical teams," Master Plo finishes, and you nod.

"Yes, Masters. And engineers. And perhaps even some troops, in case the Separatists return," you explain. You look at each of the Council members, searching their faces for any sign of approval, but you find nothing. Just the same, indifferent expressions. "Please. These people have been through so much, and all they have left is our compassion. To deny them that would be a cruelty beyond measure."

The Council is silent, each member considering your proposal with the impassivity you’ve come to expect from them. You can't read their expressions, can't tell if they're agreeing or disagreeing, and it's a struggle to keep the frustration at bay. It's always like this, always a fight, and it never gets easier. But you won't give up. You can't.

The holograms flicker and shimmer, and the weight of their decision hangs heavy in the air. You resist the urge to fidget, your fingers tapping against your leg, and Booker shifts, his foot kicking the edge of the table. His eyes meet yours, and you share a look, a silent conversation passing between the two of you.

It's a lot to ask. Especially given the current state of the war and the Chancellor's demands for speed and efficiency.

The Jedi Code preaches compassion, but it's rarely an easy thing to adhere to. There are always conflicts, always compromises, and it's rarely the most effective solution. You're asking them to risk more lives, more resources, and more time. For a planet of farmers and tradesmen. It's a difficult sell, and you can't help but brace for the inevitable rejection.

But, surprisingly, it doesn't come.

Mace's eyes close, and he inhales slowly, his shoulders rising and falling. When his eyes open, his gaze meets yours, and there's a hint of approval, a flash of pride.

"Very well, General," he agrees. "We will see what we can do."

Your chest swells, and you can't help but smile.

"Thank you, Masters," you say, and Obi-Wan laughs, a short, quiet chuckle. You shoot him a glare, and his smile widens, his eyes dancing with mischief. "I assure you, you will not regret it."

"See that we don't," Master Mundi grumbles, and his hologram disappears. Master Plo follows suit, leaving only Obi-Wan and Mace.

Obi-Wan steps closer, his hands folded behind his back, and his face breaks into a bright, joyful grin.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this, but...I've missed that," he confesses, and you can't help but return his smile. He shakes his head, chuckling softly, and you roll your eyes, trying to keep from laughing. "You were very impressive, my dear."

"Well, someone had to speak up," you reply, and he chuckles.

"Indeed. And thank you for that," he says, and you can tell from his tone and his expression that he means it. He glances over at Mace, who shakes his head, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "We can't forget where our true priorities lie."

"No, we can't," Mace agrees. "Even if the Chancellor seems to."

There's a note of bitterness in his voice that makes your eyebrows raise. It's a rare occurrence, but it's not entirely surprising. Chancellor Palpatine has been pushing the war effort, his demands and requests for more soldiers and more weapons becoming increasingly aggressive and impossible to ignore. The Jedi Council has not taken kindly to his actions, and the conflict between the Order and the Senate has only increased over the last several months. But no one can deny that it’s needed. The war is only escalating, as is the Jedi’s role in it, and the casualties are mounting. The entire galaxy is at risk, and something has to be done. Even if the Council doesn't agree.

The two men exchange a knowing glance, and Obi-Wan sighs, shaking his head.

"We will see to it," Obi-Wan promises, and the hologram cuts out.

You're left alone with Mace, and the silence settles, the only noise the muffled voices outside and the distant roar of ships taking off. You can feel his eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable lecture, your hands fisting behind your back. It's always the same. A mixture of concern and disappointment, wrapped in stern, unyielding authority. But it's not like you've never heard it before.

"You are doing good work here," he finally says, and your eyes snap up, surprised.

"Thank you, Master," you murmur. You pause, hesitating, before adding, "I do my best."

"I know.”

Mace's gaze softens, a flicker of understanding in his dark eyes. The two of you stand there, watching each other, and the moment stretches, the air heavy with things unsaid. But you can't find the words. You've never been able to, really, and this isn't the first time.

You’re about to end the transmission, your hand hovering over the console, but his voice stops you. He says your name, and the familiarity is startling, catching you off guard. His tone is low, almost gentle, and there's an emotion in his eyes you can't quite identify.

It's a calculating expression, a weighing and measuring, but not unfriendly or unkind. There's something about it that reminds you of the look Master Yaddle used to give you, a mixture of fondness and worry, and it takes everything in you not to break under the pressure of his gaze.

"This is a difficult time," he starts, his tone carefully neutral. "It takes a strong, steady hand, and a steady heart, to see the way forward."

You bite back a sigh. A lecture, then. You should have known better.

"The war has tested all of us," Mace continues. "But some more than others. And, at times, even the strongest among us can lose their way."

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. You're not sure if he knows. You're not sure how he would know. But the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes are searching your face, it's as if he does.

And yet, the words you're waiting for don't come.

"You have shown remarkable courage and strength," he says. "And while your actions do not go unnoticed, and certainly not without criticism, the fact remains that you are doing important work. Important, necessary work. And I am...grateful, for your efforts."

Your breath catches, and you blink, shocked. You can't remember the last time Mace has ever praised you. Or even spoken to you without a hint of judgment or exasperation. But there's a softness in his expression, a gentleness, and you're not sure how to process it.

You stare at him, not quite believing what you're hearing, and the corner of his mouth twitches, almost smiling. After a long moment, you snort and shake your head.

"Careful, Master," you tease, "that sounded almost like a compliment."

He lets out a chuckle, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

"I assure you, it is," he assures you. "In truth, I had my doubts about this mission. About you. But you've proven me wrong."

"Again," you mutter, and his smile widens.

"Yes, again," he concedes. "As you are so fond of reminding me."

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. The expression is rare, and a little bittersweet, but the warmth and the pride radiating off of him is unmistakable. It's a feeling you've missed, a sensation you've yearned for, and the realization that Mace, of all people, would be the source of it is surprising, to say the least.

He studies your face, his gaze thoughtful, and his expression sobers.

"It's a shame things turned out the way they did," he murmurs, and you nod. You both know exactly what he means. Dooku. Yaddle. The war. Your failure. It's a long list, and it's not getting any shorter.

"It's not too late," you reply. You don't elaborate. He doesn't need to ask.

"Perhaps not," Mace concedes.

The two of you regard each other, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. You've always respected him, even though he's rarely shown you the same courtesy. But in this moment, the feeling is mutual. You're both struggling to hold the galaxy together, and neither of you can afford to lose sight of the path.

The silence stretches, and you sigh, rubbing your eyes. It's late, and the fatigue is creeping up, and Mace gives you a sympathetic look.

"Get some rest, General," he orders. "You'll need it for what's to come."

"Yes, Master. May the Force be with you," you say. Mace bows his head, returning the gesture.

"And with you," he replies, and the transmission ends.

You stand in silence for a moment, staring at the empty space where the hologram once was, before letting out a long sigh. The sigh turns into a laugh as the reality of what just happened sets in, and you lean against the table, your arms braced on the cool metal surface. Your head hangs low, your hair falling around your face, and you chuckle, shaking your head.

"I'll never understand how you Jedi can switch moods so fast," Booker remarks, and you snort, lifting your head. "I feel like I've got whiplash. One second, they're interrogating you, the next they're giving you pep talks. It's exhausting."

"Welcome to my life," you retort, and he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"I'm serious," he says, and he gives you a look, his brow furrowing. "I don't get why they're always so..."

"Contradictory?" you finish, and he nods.

"Exactly."

You shrug, leaning back and stretching your arms above your head. It's not like you haven't wondered the same thing. The Council's mood swings are a mystery, and often a source of frustration, but there's a reason behind them. You're just not sure what that reason is. At least, not in this case.

"They're just trying to do their job," you offer. "And so am I."

"By giving you the run around," he mutters. He shakes his head, scoffing, and pushes himself off the desk, turning to face you. "And still, they ask you to jump, and you keep asking how high."

"Sometimes the answer is 'further than you thought,'" you point out. "And, in this case, it was. They agreed to send reinforcements. That's a win, Commander."

Booker frowns, and his eyes search yours, looking for some sign that you're upset. You're not. Not really. Sure, you're a little annoyed, and a little confused, and a little suspicious, but that's normal. If you didn't leave a meeting with the Council feeling that way, something would be seriously wrong.

"I still think you should've said no," he argues. "We need to be here. These people need us. You can't keep going back and forth, running from planet to planet and putting out fires. It's not sustainable."

"And let the Separatists have their way? No, thank you."

"We've got other troops. Other Jedi," he insists. "Let someone else handle it."

"There's no such thing as 'someone else,'" you retort. You sigh, rubbing your temples. "Look, I get it. You're worried. But we're doing the best we can. It's just..."

"Politics," he finishes, and you nod. He runs a hand over his face, groaning. "Duro is a dump. A literal dump. It's a planet-sized trash heap with enough factories to poison the entire galaxy. The Separatists would be doing the galaxy a favor by blowing the whole place up."

You frown, crossing your arms over your chest and glaring at him. You know that his words are mostly born of frustration and exhaustion, but you can't help but be annoyed by the sentiment.

"Don't tell the Duros that," you reply. "They might not take kindly to it."

“They would agree with me,” he retorts, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “They’re the ones who ruined their own homeworld. Why should they expect the Republic to save theirs now? Especially since they don’t even want our help? We're already stretched thin. Why are we wasting resources on a lost cause? We should be focusing on the planets and people who actually want us."

You open your mouth to argue, but he holds up his hands, a weary look on his face. His shoulders slump, and his gaze is pleading. He doesn't want a fight. You know he doesn't. And, honestly, neither do you. You're both too tired for this.

"Alright, alright. I get it. The needs of the many, etcetera,” Booker grumbles. He folds his arms across his chest and fixes you with a look. "What's the real reason you're so eager to go?"

"Eager is a strong word," you correct, your brows pulling together.

"It's an accurate one."

You look away from him, your mouth twitching, and a warmth blooms in your chest. You haven't seen Rex in so long, and you can't deny the excitement of finally being able to spend time together. The thought of seeing him again, after all this time, it's...nice. It's a feeling that has become more and more rare, and it's a sensation you want to hold onto. Even if it's only for a little while.

You may be about to enter another active war zone together, but maybe, just maybe, the two of you will be able to spend a little time together. Alone. And talk.

About...everything.

Booker's eyes narrow, and a smirk curls his lips. He watches you for a moment, and you can't help but fidget. After a beat, his smirk turns into a wide, knowing smile.

"I knew it," he exclaims, pointing at you. "This is about Rex."

"This is not about Rex," you deny, and Booker scoffs.

"Yeah, sure it's not," he teases. He leans closer, his grin widening. "So you're telling me you've got absolutely no ulterior motives? No desire to see a certain handsome captain?"

You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"Booker..."

He grins, and you roll your eyes, but you're unable to stop the flutter of anticipation rising in your stomach. You've been so busy the past several months, and the only contact you've had with Rex has been over the comm. Seeing him again, being with him, it's going to be wonderful. And exciting. And terrifying.

The reality is that there's so much that needs to be said, so much left unspoken, and it's a daunting prospect. You have no idea how the conversation will go, or if you'll ever find the right time to have it. But the possibility is there, the seed planted, and it's impossible to ignore.

"Of course it's Rex," you finally admit with a huff. "Why else would I want to go? The weather? The scenery?"

"Well, you could have just said that," he replies. He gives you a playful shove, and you laugh. "You know, if you miss him so much, why don't you just tell him?"

"I have," you point out. You lean against the desk, and his expression softens, a sympathetic smile tugging at his lips. He crosses his arms, mirroring your pose, and the two of you share a knowing look.

"Have you ever considered that maybe you're overthinking this?" he asks, and you sigh.

"Maybe," you concede, chewing the inside of your cheek. You shake your head, trying to dispel the doubt and uncertainty that's plagued you for months. "But what if he doesn't—"

"He does," Booker cuts in. His expression is firm, and his eyes are earnest. He puts his hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "He cares about you. And if he doesn't make a move soon, I'll fight him myself."

You snort, shaking your head.

"Please, don't," you beg. "That's the last thing I need."

"I'll do what I have to do," he threatens as he raises his fists, a playful glint in his eyes. "For my General."

You roll your eyes and shove him away. He chuckles, catching himself, and straightens.

"You gonna let him know you're coming, or are you just going to show up unannounced and give him a heart attack?" he asks.

You shrug, giving him a playful grin. "What, and spoil the surprise?"

Booker barks a laugh, throwing his head back. You laugh with him, and the two of you stand there for a moment, sharing a laugh and enjoying the moment. It's been so long since either of you have had anything to be happy about, and the feeling is refreshing.

"I'll tell him. But first I need to have Dash contact the fleet and arrange transport," you inform him. You push yourself off the table, turning to face him, and give him a small, encouraging smile. "And you'll have to—"

"Take over while you're gone, yeah, I know," he finishes. He crosses his arms, a smug smile tugging at his lips. "Don't worry, I won't let the place fall apart while you're away."

"I'm not too sure about that," you tease. "But I do appreciate it."

"No problem," he shrugs, and he gives you a wink. "Just promise me that if you're gonna run off and elope with Rex, you'll invite me to the wedding."

"If you keep Nadiem in one piece while I'm gone, you can be my maid of honor," you shoot back, and his smile widens.

"Deal."

With a quick salute, he turns and exits the tent, leaving you alone. You breathe a sigh, leaning against the table, and stare at the open doorway, a small smile on your lips. It's a strange feeling, being excited about a mission, but there's no denying the anticipation in your chest, the fluttering of nerves.

You've missed Rex. And not just his company, but him. His voice, his laugh, the way he smiles. The way his hand feels in yours. The way his arms wrap around you, the warmth of his embrace.

It's been too long since you've seen him, and the distance between the two of you has been a source of pain. It's an ache that you can't quite soothe, and it's hard not to wish for more. To imagine a world where you don't have to fight, where you can be together. A world where the two of you can live in peace.

Your brief glimpse into a possible future, a vision of a life together, had only made the longing stronger, the desire sharper. A future together, a life together, it's not something either of you can have, but you can't stop yourself from hoping. From wishing.

And in the meantime, there's only the war. And the battles. And the fighting. And the waiting.

You've become well acquainted with the waiting.

But now, at least, you'll have him.

You reach into your pocket and pull out your comm, opening your last conversation with Rex and starting to type, a smile on your face.

You’re not going to believe this…

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

[lynn-tged-posting]

tged webtoon ep 171 spoilers and thoughts but i'm mostly just going "YAY I LIKED THIS MOMENT" and more below the cut

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DEMON KING LLOYD HELLO. HELLO?? WHAT. WHY?? BUT WOW. HOLY SHIT. I REALLY REALLY LIKE THIS

I LOVE WHEN CHARACTERS GAIN WINGS AND HORNS AND . GHGHHGHGHHG AAAHHH ITS MY FAVORITE THING if you didn't already know dragon lloyd was like one of my favorite all-time panels so this is VERY AWESOME FOR ME YAYYY YAAAAYYY HAHAHA

LIKE SERIOUSLY LOOK HE GOT FANGS N SHIT AND. OH MY GODD THE SMOKE SLIPPING PAST HIS LIPS IM SO??? THAT'S SO COOL. I LOVE WHEN THEY DO THAT WITH SMOKE AND MONSTROUS FORMS OF CHARACTERS

genuinely i need to draw this asap. pacing issues aside i am obsessed with how sick this is. i love this a LOT

ok ok back to the top bc theres some stuff i wanna touch on from before demon king lloyd got revealed! because...

"master lloyd taught us". "master lloyd taught us". "master lloyd taught us". "master lloyd taught us".

EXCUSE ME WHAT

YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT OFF SCREEN, LLOYD TOOK TIME OUT OF HIS BUSY ASS DAY. TO TEACH THE KIDS HOW TO PLAY SOCCER. AND THEY HAVE PLAYED ENOUGH TO BE FAMILIAR ENOUGH TO PLAY ON THEIR OWN. WHICH MEANS THAT LLOYD . PLAYED SOCCER WITH THEM . AND WE FIND THIS OUT. NOW?? I. GGHH. THATS SO. CUTE. IM GOING TO BITE HIM. THE FUCKER. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME

the fact that they go up to ask him im going to EXPLODE?!?!?

he looks so nonchalant abt it here im cryinf

AND LOOK AT THEM GO THIS IS SO SO SWEET IM VERY GLAD LYRA GOT TO PLAY WITH THEM I LIKE THIS A LOT

this scene, and the beginning scene where the adults were just so casual with her and treating her as a living person with feelings and someone that they can talk to was so so heartwarming i oooghhh my heart

AND THEN THERE HE IS. SMILING IN THE BACK. YOU ASS.

I SEE YOU BEING KIND AND EMPATHETIC AND SELFLESS LLOYD. YOU LOST THE NONCHALANT WAR. YOU CAN'T ESCAPE

christ. i fucking HATE him /j /aff

it is also VERY silly that they're so casual abt. destruction like that HELPPP they got it from someone sob sob, though i imagine since most of the estate consists of people who have done construction it probably isnt that big of a deal when things get destroyed every now n then

and lyra looks so damn happy,,, god im so glad she had a good experience, she really needed one :')

also i completely LOST it when the kid got mad at lyra for not responding with a yes or no HELPPP JESUS CHRIST

again they,,, got it from someone HAHA though honestly i think it tracks. kids can be straightforwardly brutal in their language, especially when they don't really have biases or cares for who they are speaking to. as crazy as this instance looks (LMFAO) i think this fits well with the context of the straightforwardness of children and considering the person who they look up to at the estate. i think it was good for lyra to meet a human child her age who can speak straightforwardly and not skirt past things, if that makes sense? i hope it does!

AND THE DEMON KING TRANSFORMATION i already talked abt it above but i wanna point out this blue system box here

a power outside of the system?!?? what does this mean for the protagonist of the new prequel bk_moon is writing?? is the weather forecasting included in this???

my first assumption right now is that the demon king power is just an in-world power system while everything else (ie the weather forecasting) is external, blue-textbox system. maybe? so lloyd got the demon king power which comes with skills separate from the ones that the system can provide? that would explain why there's no indication of lloyd trying to use the weather forecasting, he probably can't use it,,,? except i dont know why artanis can use it in that case. most likely i am overthinking it LMFAO

semi-related, i am a little confused as to why artanis did this? i guess she really, really trusted him w this power? or maybe her weather forecasting noted that this would be something good to do i have no idea,,, it Does feel a bit sudden i won't lie, i'm not sure how earned this is

also javier and everyone else not reacting that much to the demon king status. SENT ME HAHA "... nothing's changed." LOL

deadpan humor never fails to make me giggle ily javier

also loved the moment where the two of them were bein serious for a sec,,, they've got a job to do they've got people to protect. lloyd will stop fate and javier will be right besides him...

i think showing them at emily's wedding really cements how much they really, REALLY need to fight fate now. the novel events happening is very very bad, but it feels like now that so many people, emily especially, have found THIS much happiness in their lives,,, failing to stop fate will hit even harder. i really like the analogy of a taut bow that the dragon king used when he first described it, bc it's really REALLY showing how much the repercussions will hit if they fail. im praying they succeed,,, please,,, i need a happy ending or i will curl up and turn into an actual shrimp irl.

and now the demons have to build the pantara railroad,,, artanis's expression omfg

she really didn't,,, know,,, she trusted him that much,,,, girl,,,

but it's ok. it'll be a net positive trust! that's how lloyd does things!!! and then soon we'll get the happy ending where we can get the eye of summer and beat up fate and then silly fun times YAYY <- probably copium

some other thoughts of note that i had with a dear mutual (hi sprout :3) about this ep:

we were talking about how the plot seems to be paced right now, and honestly i'm of the opinion that while yes its Technically moving, the way they're ending each ep in this current arc makes it feel like it's going both very slow and very fast, that is to say it feels like it's not moving at all

bc they're like "okay NOW we're gonna do the build project" and it's been like that for several episodes now. pieces are moving but we're going past the point of it all too fast (especially the whole demon king thing. mentioned this before but while cool, doesn't feel as earned simply bc we're both tackling each point and yet blowing past all the points, so it's a lot less satisfying than it should be (despite how awesome it is,,, oh lloyd you give me so much internal conflict </3))

it does make me a lil worried that they're gonna timeskip the hell out of the pantara railroad build. however this episode, although it still has a weird pacing/movement issue, does feel a little bit better than the last two imo, so i have hope that it'll turn out okay, that it'll start heading up! i'm actually really excited to see where they go with this and i'm sure that even if the pacing is still goofy i'll have some kind of fun with it (seriously the panels this ep were wonderful HAHA)

anyway that's all for this week! extremely excited for the next ep,,, ill see yall then,,, lets go pantara railroad arc!!!

[theonescreencap]

this is a deliberate visual callback to arlong park TO ME okay

despite all their differences and silly little bickering the way they all come together and lock the fuck in when one of them needs help... it's so good

[azuzula]

rose gold

[valofhearts]

Way too often i hear about a disabled person being another disabled person's only caregiver. And it's not even that no abled person is available to be a caregiver, it's that none of them care enough to do it or believe enough they need help or are willing to help in ways that are actually asked for. So then it's just disabled people stretching themselves until they snap for other disabled people, isolated not by lack of resources but by ableism

[right-there-ride-on]

what would a gyjo divorce arc look like asking for a friend

[sugarcube-stillabookworm]

the openin scene with the sakarnen... euphoria and thirst. being sated with the power and starving for more. exhilaration cursing through your veins as it consumes you and you edge towards destruction...

[intotheelliwoods]

imagine naming you character poptart. couldnt be me...... who would do such a thing....

[bleaksqueak]

New Star Tier reward pack is up and live over at the Solivaga Patreon! Part 1 of an Autumn png asset pack that I made for myself for Chapter 3. These are all painted by me, by hand, and if you want to snag them to help with your background work, you can pick them up at the link below! Autumn Illustration Assets

[nectardaddy]

a small psa:

sorry if I haven't answered you in awhile or not at all. even though I know I don't owe a response, it still feels shitty of me not to especially if we're friends. I have a hard time talking to people, surprisingly, and I just struggle with the aspect of being social (online or not).

I adore you all and I promise I'm not ignoring you, it's not my intention <3 words are hard a lot of the times for me (says the gd writer make that make sense)

[yellllowstar]

slowly I'm recovering the beauty of discovery

(creature by half•alive)

(textless + timelapse below cut)

[moe-broey]

Back to what I do best (bare minimum Putting My Guys In Situations shitposts) 😌

Inspo under cut!!!