#last chance

[heywriters]

I'm definitely going to downsize the account with the intent of eventually deleting it—Pinterest has been a thorn in my side for years. However, I do have some big collections of quotes, creative ideas, character face claims, and other things there that I feel are useful.

First collections to go will be the external links & resources since many are dead or weren't good to begin with. I will keep those up until end of this poll (week) for anyone who wants to fave them.

Collections on the immediate chopping block are linked below!

Also, in part, I would like to remove as much art from my inactive accounts as possible. I know I can't stop Big AI from scraping Pinterest, but I can at least not leave a ton of unprotected (and often uncredited) stuff out in the open. It's simply a sentimental thing at this point.

Save whatever you want and support the artists if you can!

[pratchettquotes]

"They're coming closer again," said War.

THEN WE WILL DO WHAT WE CAN.

"Four swords against an army? That'll never work!"

YOU THOUGHT IT MIGHT A FEW MOMENTS AGO. WHO IS TALKING FOR YOU NOW? HUMANS HAVE ALWAYS FACED US AND THEY HAVE NOT SURRENDERED.

"Well, yes," said Pestilence. "But with us they could always hope for a remission."

"Or a sudden truce," said War.

"Or--" Famine began, and hesitated, and said finally: "A shower of fish?" He looked at their expressions. "That actually happened once," he added defiantly.

IN ORDER TO HAVE A CHANGE OF FORTUNE AT THE LAST MINUTE YOU HAVE TO TAKE YOUR FORTUNE TO THE LAST MINUTE, said Death. WE MUST DO WHAT WE CAN.

"And if that doesn't work?" said Pestilence. [...]

THEN WE DID WHAT WE COULD, he said, UNTIL WE COULD NOT.

Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time

[ecto-implosion]

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Comic by: @starry-907

[illustoryart]

Need a little boost here! 🥺

*summoning fandom power*

It's really the last chance to own this deck, so if you know someone who may like it, please share ❤

We have time till October 25th! ✨

[girl4music]

Just read the ‘Last Chance’ script again.

It literally is a piece of femslash fanfiction.

It’s both a musical and a doppleganger episode and so you can only imagine the gay shenanigans that would happen between the lookalikes that are actual lovers.

From Xena Wiki. Source: https://warriorprincess.fandom.com/wiki/Last_Chance

“Scheduled for February 2001, but never shot. This was the infamous Sappho episode. Written by Robert Tapert and Melissa Good, it was to be directed by Mark Beesley. K.D. Lang apparently agreed to guest star.

Synopsis

Sometime during her life as a mortal, Aphrodite "stole" Sappho from the Muses because she wrote, like, such kickin' love poetry. The Muses got back at Aphrodite for the "kidnapping" by casting a spell on Aphrodite's son. The spell was one of celibacy, which, of course, is a major bummer for Aphrodite. Aphrodite decides to get her son "un-celibate" by getting him to go to Lesbos to groove on some Sappho love poetry.

The problem is that Sappho (Renee) has "lost the muse". She and her partner (in *every* sense) Morai (Lucy) have been fighting a great deal. Having creative differences, in other words. Sappho hasn't been giving Morai enough credit in the partnership, and in the end, Morai (a meek woman) leaves, during the time that they're getting ready to put on a play called "Love Bites".

Aphrodite, seeing her plans for her son going seriously awry, goes to two people she hopes will help her. Xena and Gabrielle. She breaks in on a jam session with Xena and Gabrielle. Gabrielle is trying to write a song, and Xena keeps on putting her two cents in. Gabrielle finally asks Xena to just shut up and sing it already. And we hear the first lines of Last Dance.

Aphrodite "pops in", interrupting them. She then asks them if they'd fill in briefly for Sappho and Morai while she goes after the two to try and get them back together. After a few moments, Xena and Gabrielle agree to Aphrodite's scheme, and travel to Lesbos.

They get there, and of course, everyone mistakes Gabrielle for Sappho, and ignore Xena (masquerading as the meek and mild Morai). The play is down to the last moments, almost ready to be put on, but the ending isn't even done. Xena and Gabrielle need to stall until Aphrodite can get the real Sappho and Morai back so that they can finish the play that she hopes will break her son's celibate spell.

Mistaken identity hijinx ensue, with Gabrielle loving the accolades and Xena getting more and more pissed off because people are treating her like a somewhat brain damaged dog. Xena and Gabrielle get into a small (minor) tiff because Xena is upset, but eventually things get back to "normal".

Meanwhile Sappho and Morai have taken a canoe/camping trip into nature in order to work out the kinks and get the muse back so they can finish the play. Unfortunately, that flops, as does the canoe, so Sappho and Morai wind up back at Sappho's home, where they run into, literally, Xena and Gabrielle. However, it's kinda funny the way it happens.

See, Xena, walks into Sappho's boudoir thinking Sappho is Gabrielle. Sappho is instantly entranced by Xena's bearing, and *especially* her leather. Xena is a bit taken aback by Gabrielle's forwardness, especially since they've just had another small arguement and Xena left the party.

Meanwhile, the REAL Gabrielle is in another room when Morai comes in (thinking it's Sappho) and wanting to make up with her partner. She takes off Gabrielle's boots and offers to read her some poetry before they go to bed. Poetry? Gabrielle wants to know where Xena (who she thinks Morai is) got the henbane and how much did she take?

Both sets of doubles eventually find out that they're not who the other thinks they are, and all four collide in the hallway outside the bedroom. After the surprised introductions are over, Sappho offers to have Xena (who she REALLY likes) and Gabrielle to share the bed with she and Morai. Gabrielle declines and Xena and Gabrielle go into Sappho's workroom, where they settle down for some "pillow talk". (In the script, and yes, they're sharing a bed).

They each talk about how they knew the double wasn't who they thought they were after a short time and then go to sleep. Xena wants to leave, figuring that with Sappho and Morai back, their mission is done, but Aphrodite convinces them to stay on a bit longer. Which is a good thing, because Sappho and Morai argue again and Morai runs away.

The play is ready to go on with Senhel and Avian in attendance, but without Morai (who is playing several parts), what can be done? In steps Xena to fill Morai's spot while Gabrielle runs off to find the runaway poet and to convince her to return to Sappho's side.

Then the Donkey Show part of this ensues, with all the disco tunes you heard about. It's as confusing as the real Donkey Show is, and I really can't do it justice, but basically it's about three couples (each played by Lucy and Renee) some who love each other, some who want one but the other doesn't want them back.

Aphrodite thinks this play, sampling the "many flavors of looooove" is just the ticket to get Senhel to see the error of his ways. They start out, but at first, Sappho is upset because while she *really* likes Xena, the reverse isn't true. Xena's not interested, and Sappho thinks she's falling down on the convincing job (to the audience).

They go along in the play and Aphrodite pops in again, and sees that her son is completely unmoved. Morai (who really DOES love Sappho) still isn't back yet, so Aphrodite pleads with Xena to "please, just fake it" with Sappho so that Senhel will get the picture. Faced with the alternative (failure) Xena decides to "fake it" and starts becoming more steamy with Sappho during the songs such as "Love to Love You Baby", "Knock on Wood", "Don't Leave Me This Way" and the like.

Gabrielle, meanwhile, has convinced Morai to give Sappho one more try, and brings her back to the playhouse just in time to see Xena pin Sappho to a set piece on stage and kiss the living daylights out of her. Morai is upset. Gabrielle is kinda upset. Senhel is falling asleep (because, obviously, what's going on up on stage is not love, just lust).

Morai begins to sing "I Will Survive" to Sappho and then leaves. Gabrielle leaves with her. The audience begins to leave.

"WAIT!" shouts Xena, and tosses her chakram to close the doors to keep the audience from leaving. Then she begins to sing, to Gabrielle, the song they wrote together. Which, of course, is Last Dance. As she hears it, Gabrielle stops. Then turns. Then, as Xena continues to sing, she begins to approach Xena until they wind up holding hands and looking into each other's eyes.

Then, as the song fades, they hug. Then they look over at Senhel, who is STILL unmoved. So then, and this is from the script:

“Xena and Gabrielle kiss with deep and sincere passion.” Everyone stares, entranced.

When they finally come up for air, Senhel is on the floor, the spell broken because he has finally seen true love. As the song begins again, Avain kisses Senhel, Morai kisses Sappho, and everyone is happy again.”

[sflow-er]

S2 Walty snippets series [complete]

With the final season of Young Royals almost upon us, I've been taking stock of my fics and decided to scrap the second chapter to Like you better. There is always a chance of me returning to it someday, but I don't think it really brings anything new to the fic.

That means my little series of S2-compliant Walty fics is complete, and since I never made a proper series post, here's some shameless self-promo (ft. comment quotes):

Sflow's S2 Walty snippets

S2-compliant Henry or Walty fics. The first two are consistent with each other, the last one is separate. Any of them can easily be read as a standalone. Henry is ace as always in my fics, but the depiction of his asexuality and the nature of his relationship to Walter varies.

Bright ideas: ~5k, T, platonic Walty "I love how no matter how short this little one-shot is, it still has a complete narrative structure (--) I giggled from start to finish"

Henry's motivation for rowing has been on a downward spiral all winter. He gets a little lost inside his head trying to avoid punishment for being late, until Walter tells him to get home for something exciting. Cue an awkward walk-by when Wilmon are trying to have an important talk, some related thoughts, a discussion with Walter, and an invitation for Wille to join some ridiculous shenanigans.

OR: A missing moment/scene expansion for s2ep2 (written for YR week 2023) that shows us what Henry was up to before, during and after the locker room scene. My attempt at crack.

Like you better: ~2k, T, queerplatonic OR romantic Walty "I didn't know I needed queerplatonic fanfics that much. It makes me so happy!"

After the masquerade ball, Walter comes home to Henry, who is newly recovered from a migraine attack. A bit of talk about girls, their friendship, and Henry's recent revelation of his asexuality ensues. Along with some cuddles.

OR: A super fluffy missing moment between Walty at the end of s2ep4. Can be read as either queerplatonic or romantic, your choice!

Last chance: ~7k, T, romantic Walty Not consistent with the other parts of the series! "beautifully crafted (--) second chapter was amazing and gentle and like being hugged through my phone screen"

As Henry and Walter's friendship takes a romantic turn, Henry decides to take the last chance to come out to his best friend before everything changes.

OR: A first kiss + coming out/ace talk + getting together fic set after S2 (written for Ace Awareness Week 2023). Contains discussion of past acephobia, previous sexual experience (not very specific), and aversions (French kissing specifically mentioned, the rest are up to the reader's interpretation). A more sex-favourable take on ace Henry than my other fics (sex doesn't happen in the fic, though). Also, Walter is explicitly gay in this one.

[i-am-roadrunner]

Katheryn Winnick - Last chance to win a lunch date ... [x] Part 1 -> [x] / Part 2 -> [x] / Part 3 -> [x] -> Part 4 [x]

[shopwitchvamp]

Only a few days left to get -clearance- pins, washi tapes, and pride heart stickers!!

★Pins as low as $1.99, max $9.99 (reg. $12.99-15.99) ★Washi for $3.33 each when you buy a set of three ★Pride Heart Stickers are all 99cents ★Last call items: These will all leave the shop for good at the end of the month!! 🖤witchvamp.com🖤

[ceroro]

The cardie plush campaign was extended!!! One final more week to get a cardie plush before she's gone for good!!!

[bryan-cranston-is-hot]

have i made my point yet???

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.1 - Last Chance

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday, Clone Trooper Hexx, Clone Trooper Veetch, Lieutenant Nolan, Assorted Imperial Troopers Word Count: ~3045 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: The Imperial relief ship finally arrives, marking the end of the squad’s long posting on Barton IV. Mayday is surprised to see a CT-99 listed on the crew roster.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place

“COMMANDER!”

Veetch’s yell was enough to summon Mayday at a run. He weaved through the stacks of crates to where his squad member was bent over the computer console, tapping excitedly.

Veetch turned with a wild-eyed grin. “Transport is incoming.”

The young clone stepped aside, letting Mayday see the screen for himself. Disbelieving, Mayday scrolled through the transmission, reading and re-reading until he was sure it wasn't a joke.

“Go get Hexx,” he ordered, voice shaky with something between excitement and dread. “This is it, lad. We’re getting out of here.”

Veetch was off like a shot, the lethargy of their long posting dissipated as ready as snow in the sun. Before long the three clones were clustered round the screen, avidly reviewing the transmission.

It’s concise – what Mayday has come to expect from the Empire.

[Cargo retrieval ship scheduled to arrive 1600 Galactic Standard. Ensure all stored goods are ready for transport.]

What it doesn’t say is the bit that Mayday reads between the lines. That he and his boys are finally leaving Barton IV and all its bad memories behind them.

Hexx was reviewing the ship’s manifest with a frown.

“Says they’re bringing a contingent to secure the depot whilst the cargo is transferred,” he said with a dour tone, “but there’s no clone troopers listed here.”

Veetch leaned in to peer over his shoulder. “There’s one,” he pointed. “CT-9904.”

“The only one,” Hexx muttered.

“A CT-99?” said Mayday mildly, eyebrows raising towards his hairline. “I didn’t realise there were any left in service.”

Veetch glanced at him in confusion. “What’s different about a CT-99?” he asked.

“Defective clones,” supplied Hexx. “But still combat-worthy.”

“He must be one of the last ones,” said Mayday. “Well, a brother’s a brother. I’ll see if I can pin him down when they get here, find out what his view of this new Empire is.”

Hexx snorted. “If he’ll talk to you,” he said. “I’ve heard the 99’s are notoriously difficult to work with. Only interested in others like them.”

“You’ll keep those thoughts to yourself,” said Mayday flatly, his commander’s tone brooking no argument. “If the rumours are true, and the Empire are phasing out clone troopers, those of us that are left need to stick together.”

“What do we need to do to get ready for the ship’s arrival?” asked Veetch, the plaintive note of hope in his voice almost painful to hear.

Mayday straightened with a humourless smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Better get out there and sweep the snow from the landing zone. First impressions count, boys. Let’s make sure this place is looking spick and span before the transport arrives.”

The wry sarcasm in his voice made the other two grin.

“You don’t mean that, Commander,” said Veetch, pulling on his helmet and tightening the fabric coverings.

Mayday huffed a laugh. “Sure I do. If the ship skids on ice when it lands and crashes into the depot, none of us are getting out of here.” He clapped a hand to Hexx’s shoulder, then copied Veetch in gathering his helmet.

“Come on. We’ll do this together.”

*

Mayday’s expectations hadn’t been low enough.

The narrow-faced Lieutenant who disembarked the transport had immediately started making demands which betrayed that he hadn’t bothered to read the briefing about the Barton IV depot.

“Your orders were to protect this facility and its cargo, yet this outpost is grossly unguarded. Where are the rest of your men?”

“Dead,” answered Mayday shortly. The man would have known that, if he’d read the brief. He glanced at his two remaining troopers, nodding in their direction. “Hexx, Veetch and I,” he said slowly, keeping his voice low and calm, “we’re all that’s left.”

To his mind, it was impossible to miss the sombre line of empty, damaged clone helmets lined up on the crates behind them. The lieutenant’s pale blue eyes slid past them, glazing past the evidence of their loss to settle in a scowl directed at Mayday once more.

“Your failings will be dealt with later,” he said haughtily. “For now, I am in charge until the cargo is transported.”

Mayday bristled at the man’s tone, bit back the reaction. Instead he settled for a sardonic smile, glancing at Hexx and Veetch with a barely-concealed eye roll. “I feel safer already,” he drawled, confident that his two troopers shared his thoughts. He couldn’t wait for this so-called Lieutenant to discover the realities of the outpost.

Sarcasm was the wrong approach. The small man’s pinched face narrowed further, mouth puckering in evident anger. “Look here, clone, you will speak to me with respect.”

The change was immediate. Hexx and Veetch, leaned back against the crates, straightened. Mayday dropped a hand to his side from his crossed arms, a flick of his fingers telling them to stand down.

“In my experience,” he said, drawing himself deliberately to his full height, “respect is something to be earned.”

Fourteen months of hardship had only weathered confidence into Mayday’s tone.

But he wasn’t prepared for what the Lieutenant threw at him next.

“Yet the Empire assigned you to this desolate rock, where you let the majority of your squad get killed.”

Mayday stiffened, a dark glower spreading to his face. He knew his own failings; knew the decisions he had made during the Clone Wars and since that had sent good soldiers to their deaths. The guilt of ordering patrols during the blizzard six months into the Barton IV posting haunted him.

Everything had gone wrong after that; but the rest of it could have been avoided. The rest of his squad died because the Empire ignored his requests for support time and again.

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” he said when he had control of his voice once more, “how many missions have you commanded?”

The smaller man’s shoulders rose towards his ears with a defensive, embarrassed glower.

“That’s what I thought,” said Mayday softly.

Inside his chest his heart raced, adrenaline demanding his aching body take action. Instead he dragged his gaze away from the lieutenant, trying to make it seem like the man was beneath his attention.

“Boys, why don’t you help the new boss get situated?” he said, an order rather than a suggestion.

Wordlessly, Hexx and Veetch slipped past him. Hexx turned briefly, a questioning hand sign thrown his commander, but Mayday signalled for him to leave. He cast a pointed glance towards the dark armoured figure who had shadowed the lieutenant silently throughout the confrontation, rifle stowed at his back but seemingly tense and ready to fight.

Hexx merely nodded and turned to follow Veetch, less than gently escorting the Imperial lieutenant away from the sheltered space behind the stacked storage crates.

Once they had the space to themselves Mayday turned his attention to the silent sniper, assessing. The man was taller than Mayday or any of the brothers he had ever served with, yet he wore clone armour, albeit a dark-painted variant. It was enough to confirm this must be the defective clone from the ship’s crew manifest.

Mayday straightened, wondering how best to begin his overtures towards the newcomer. He’d never met a CT-99 before, which would have given him pause enough, and that was without knowing how deeply the man’s loyalty to the new Empire ran.

He decided that was the first thing he wanted to know. Forcing himself to relax back against the crates again, he stared into the impassive green visor and asked, “You, uh, know the lieutenant well?”

For a heartbeat he wondered if it was the right question. Then the sniper spoke, voice laden with acid.

“For about two hours,” he said, the derision in his tone clear.

Mayday huffed a relieved laugh. “Two hours too long, I bet,” he said, having decided he’d had enough of the man after only two minutes.

The only reply was a noncommittal ‘hmm’. Deciding this was better than meeting a severe response that berated him for disparaging the Imperial officer, he pressed on.

“So, what did you do to get stuck with this mission?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

The bite of sarcasm drew a genuine if bitter laugh from Mayday.

Lifting the portable heater, Mayday shuffled it forwards a few steps and dropped it in front of the other clone. The glow of the device did nothing to dispel the shadows that seemed to cling to the black-painted armour and shroud the sniper in darkness.

The 99 barely looked at him. Or perhaps sharp eyes were following him from inside the helmet – there was no way to tell. The man didn’t move; hadn’t moved, even to relax a little when the lieutenant departed.

“The name’s Mayday,” he offered after a pause.

The silence that followed was so long that Mayday was sure the other must be ignoring him, wishing for the conversation to end.

Then, so softly it was almost lost; “Crosshair.”

The commander raised his eyebrows, then let them fall back into a frown. The clone had been so slow to give his name, said it so uncertainly, that Mayday found himself wondering if it was the first time he had spoken it aloud since The Order reduced them to mere numbers in the eyes of the Empire.

“Crosshair,” Mayday repeated, and he gave weight to the name, added conviction. Desperately hoped that this small act of connection would bind the CT-99 to him in something approaching brotherhood.

He summoned a dry smile, and gestured around him with a flourish. “Well, Crosshair… welcome to The Outpost.”

*

“Why aren’t they loading the kriffing cargo already?” snarled Veetch in disappointment.

Hexx shared his younger companion’s frustration. The three remaining squad members from Barton IV were more than ready to leave, but the newly-arrived Lieutenant Nolan had other ideas. The Imperial Troopers who were with him with were filing from the ship and making their way into the depot. It seemed clear that a quick turnaround was less important than meticulously checking each crate for signs of tampering – as if the clones had any motive or desire to do such a thing.

They were stood in the shadow of the damaged storage building, fairly certain that it would keep them out of the way of the industry now overtaking the base, but they were hailed anyway.

“Hie, clones,” called a voice, neither friendly nor welcoming. Hexx glanced at Veetch and gave a weary shrug before stepping out from the sheltering wall, setting his body against the driving wind as they crossed to the Imperial Trooper.

“Yes?” he asked, scraping the thin reserves of his patience for some measure of politeness.

“Show my men where they’re bunking whilst we’re here.”

Hexx barely contained his derisive snort. “What?”

“The barracks area. Show my men the way through that maze of damned crates you created in the main building.”

“They’re not your barracks,” said Veetch uncertainly, hovering beside Hexx’s shoulder.

The Imperial Trooper stepped closer, looming into Veetch’s personal space. “Seeing as most of your squad is dead, I’m guessing there’s plenty of spare bunks. Go and show the others where to stow their kit.”

Veetch surged forwards in anger, but Hexx caught his arm before he could do anything.

“Yes sir,” he bit, making his voice as much like Mayday’s derisive drawl as he could manage. His commander had set the tone for this encounter in the words exchanged with Nolan; Hexx would follow suit.

He hauled the younger clone away with him, tightening his grip when he felt Veetch fight against him.

“What are you doing?” hissed Veetch, a shaky, outraged whisper. “You’re not doing what he said? After that?”

Hexx shook him hard, fingers pressing bruises between the seams of his upper arm armour.

“Listen here,” he spat, leaning in close to the younger trooper even though his voice would be perfectly clear on the com. “This might be our last chance off this forsaken rock. I’m not going to spoil it by losing my temper with these prissy Imperials. So suck it up, Veetch, and we can finally get out this kriffing hell-hole.”

“But the others… Dene and Recon and Helix and Axis-”

“-Are gone.” Hexx’s voice was flat. “But we’re still here.” He sighed, loosening his grip on Veetch’s arm, transferring his hand to his shoulder instead to grip with supportive pressure. “If you were older you’d have learned this during the war. There’s always another mission. Another posting. Some of your brothers get left behind. But they’d want you to go on, so you fight another day, you keep living for them. You hear me?”

Veetch wasn’t listening. His focus was over Hexx’s shoulder, gaze fixed on something distant. Then his hand flew to his com.

“Commander! Raiders spotted inside the perimeter.”

Instantly Hexx’s hands went to his blaster, spinning to follow Veetch’s gaze, dropping into a battle-ready stance.

“Over there,” Veetch told him, gesturing, and Hexx nodded.

“I see. Come on, kid. Let’s not let the Commander down now we’ve got an audience.”

The two clones sprinted for the perimeter breach, weaving between Imperial Troopers who stood around, slower to react. Veetch’s blaster fire lit up the hard-standing, arcing towards the raiders who broke from cover as they realised they had been made.

“I’ve got the west,” came Mayday’s voice over the com. “The sniper’s taking the east tower.”

They closed on the raiders, the cluster of enemy combatants quickly splitting up to try and escape. One of them crouched to the ground, steadying their rifle before taking a shot.

Veetch stumbled, veering out the way to take cover behind one of the base’s low barricades. The shelter was a brief respite, chance to catch his breath and look to Hexx for their next move.

Only Hexx was no longer at his side.

He was sprawled on the ground, throat torn out by blaster-fire.

The world narrowed. Inside his helmet, Veetch struggled to draw breath. By rote he raised his hand, activating his com.

“Hexx is down.” He was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded. His throat constricted around a thick lump of sorrow, but somehow it hadn’t stayed his words.

His fingers trembled beside the com button, feeling like he should say something else, not knowing what.

Confused shouts and blaster fire sounded as the Imperial Troops joined the combat. Veetch poked his head up from behind cover, quickly surveying the battlefield. The Imperials weren’t used to fighting in the dark and low visibility of Barton IV snowstorms. He was.

“Thee raiders heading towards the shuttle at zero-one-five,” he reported, and then he was on the move again. Two of the raiders peeled off in one direction but he was closer to the third – he stuck on them as they skirted round the lowered ramp to the far side of the shuttle.

He slowed to a jog as he neared the shuttle. The raider hadn’t noticed him; Veetch found himself softening his footfalls in the hope of ambushing his target.

An explosion. The light craft was consumed in intense nexus of fire which blossomed outwards with the strength of an inferno.

Veetch felt the wave of heat hit him first. Then lethal shrapnel pinwheeled from the wreckage to pierce his body, and he didn’t feel anything at all.

*

Crosshair left the chaos of the base and its burning debris field behind him and followed the spattered path of blood behind the buildings, the dark red stains stark against the snow even in the early twilight of the bad weather.

He blinked and squinted inside his helmet, trying to banish the bright dots dancing in front of his sensitive eyes. Even through the heat sensor, the after-image of the exploding shuttle had been seared into his retinas.

Normally, if there was an explosion on the battlefield, he knew the cause. Wrecker would give him a heads-up.

The attack on the outpost had been an ambush, and he'd had no time to avert his gaze from the sun-bright nova which engulfed the destroyed craft.

Now he slithered down a snow-slope, traitorous memory supplying unwanted thoughts of the last time he had fought on terrain like this. His head had hurt then, too, an intense pinpoint pressure at his temple. He had wondered if it was a migraine, the kind Hunter was prone to.

There was nothing there now but pitted scar tissue, shiny and stretched from the ion burn. At least this time the headache was due to the bright light, nothing more.

His descent brought him to a lip of ice and he dropped lithely into the channel below, landing on his feet. Blessed, cool darkness enveloped him, soothing to his overstrained eyes, but still the blinking afterglows remained and prevented his low-light vision from kicking in.

Crosshair drew the torch from his belt and flashed the beam ahead. The crevasse opened into a tunnel which bored into the mountain-side, winding round a corner and out of sight.

"A snow skiff took off down the western ridge," called a voice from behind him. He turned and looked up to see the reg commander following his route down the snow-slope, crouching at the top of the drop. “The rest must’ve fled on foot into the mountain pass.”

"Wrong," was all Crosshair said, casting his torch back towards the tunnel.

The commander dropped next to him and followed his gaze to a slick of red on the rocky floor.

"So that's how snuck past our defences," he breathed, his voice grim.

"We should go after them," said Crosshair, starting down the tunnel.

"Hang on," said Mayday quickly. He caught Crosshair’s arm, stalling his advance. "You'll freeze to death if you head out there. You think it's cold now? You've got no idea how it gets after true nightfall.” He didn’t fight Crosshair as the sniper shook himself free, instead folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, I've got brothers to bury."

The hitch in his voice was worse than sorrow. It was resignation.

Crosshair hesitated. He’d watched the clone trooper run alongside the shuttle, and barely given a thought to whether he had survived.

“Fine,” he said, his voice a thin, displeased whisper. He shifted his stance, resting the rifle on his shoulder. “But Nolan isn’t going to like this.”

Read Part 2.2 - Broken

Officially on Part 2 - now canon-compliant instead of pre-canon!

RIP Hexx and Veetch :(

Here's a reminder of the Angstpril prompts that @kybercrystals94, @the-little-moment and I are sharing; mine are the ones in red! :)

Here's @the-little-moment's stories:- Day 1 - Homesick Day 4 - Longing Day 7 - Bad Dreams Day 10 - Phantom Pain Day 13 - Learning The Truth Day 16 - Emotionally Distant

And @kybercrystals94's stories:- Day 3 - Broken Hearted Day 6 - This Isn't Going To Work Day 9 - Trust Issues Day 12 - A Little Too Late Day 15 - Confrontation

[talltalestogo]

Last chance

Toward the waning sun /

the October sunflowers /

aim their last chance blooms.

.

.

#sun #sunflowers #blooms #waning #photo #poem #poetry #haiku #oldnorthknoxville #davidebooker #October #Tuesday #100323 #2023

[livelaughbone]

💀🦴 ONLY 1 WEEK LEFT 🦴💀

If you haven't gotten your copy of Live, Laugh, Bone or any of the merch, this is your final week to do so!

It will be on sale for only 1 week or until supplies last (stock is extremely low)! Come support some of your favorite Fontcest artists! 🧡💙

🛒 BUY HERE: livelaughbone.bigcartel.com 🛒

[dailymtgflavortext]

"I only had time to read half the spell, but I'm pretty sure this will work!"

-Last Chance

[descendinginto-madness]

your first and final chance.

word count: 618

content warnings: injury & death, description of a death scene (mild gore)

summary: welt yang is a smart man. sometimes, it does him more harm than good.

both the story and the author's note contain spoilers for 2.1 hsr update!

author's note: ookay. so. oh my god. ummm 😋 welt x gallagher gone terribly wrong! "ship so good they kill each other" to quote my friend. though! here we just have an implied past relationship. but i'll write something nice for them idk man i just!! can see them together!! idk what i'm doing though!! idk man. i'm sorry if they're ooc once i have more time i might take this fic and make it longer and uh. also here. my assumption is that welt guessed something's wrong abt gallagher (we all know there is) and yaaaaaa idk man.idk!! i love rambling fr

“I'll give you one chance to surrender, Mr. Yang.”

Welt looks at Gallagher when he speaks; the man’s smile is all the same, just like before, but there's a hint of something else in his eyes. Something… Dangerous - though not enough to scare Welt; there are few things that would actually manage to do that. 

Of course, it’s already clear to him this won't be a peaceful conversation, as Gallagher has initially promised— he expected it much earlier, the moment the Hound requested they talk. He's confident in his own abilities, though; even going against something the nature of he doesn't necessarily fully understand. 

If the others were here with him - if he'd allow them to accompany him in the first place - he’d likely feel different. He'd be more cautious. But he's alone right now, and that means that he doesn't have to pay that too much mind - for now, at least.

So, to Gallagher’s words, he only raises his eyebrows slightly. 

“Is this the real reason why you wanted to see me?”

Gallagher laughs quietly. 

“Yes and no. You're a bit too observant, Mr. Yang.” He steps closer, but Welt doesn't move; his grip on his cane only tightens a little bit. “I won't lie, I'm impressed, but I can't just allow you to run around with this knowledge, risking that you’ll expose me, can I?” He raises his hand, and his thumb brushes against Welt's cheek gently. A while ago, perhaps he'd like to lean into this touch. Right now, it's not comforting, but rather feels… filthy. He doesn't let anything of that show, though; he's letting Gallagher talk. “The thought of having to get rid of you is pretty upsetting, though. I thought I'll invite you here, and maybe we'll be able to come to an agreement.”

Welt frowns at these words.

“I won't negotiate with you,” he says. His voice is calm, but cold. “Nor join forces with you.”

“Ah.” The Hound looks at him with a thoughtful smile, before taking a step back, his hand falling back to his side. “I see. I thought you might be willing to, since you came here, and confronted me about what you had discovered before sharing it with your trusted companions– but I guess I was wrong.”

There's warmth coming to Welt's face, a slightest hint of red on his cheeks, barely noticeable but still there - embarrassment, perhaps. It is true; he chose to settle this privately first, for a reason not particularly clear even to him. He knows he has misplaced his trust once again, and yet something stopped him from exposing Gallagher as the murderer first thing.

He doesn't want to dwell on it too much right now. He will have time later. 

“But that means I don't really have a choice,” Gallagher adds. Perhaps he'd scare someone else with such a statement; Welt doesn't feel much, though.

“What makes you think that it'll be easy to get rid of me, Mr. Gallagher?” he asks.

The other man just laughs.

“It might be much easier than you think, Mr. Yang.”

Welt opens his mouth to reply, but then a shadow appears behind him.

Despite his age his reflexes are still well, his body still quite agile, but the Death is faster; he barely has any time to react, to even process what's happening, before something pierces through his body. It's accompanied by a blood-curdling screech and tears through his body, ripping his flesh, crushing the bones in its way. Blood splatters around the room when Gallagher's silhouette fades as his vision becomes blurry and then goes entirely dark.

“...What a shame,” Gallagher says, looking at the pool of blood on the floor, and laughs. 

divider by @/cafekitsune