#not for like angst but just the sheer amount of stuff

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Ashes to Ashes

Chapter WC: 15,440

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

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

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Duro, 20 BBY

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

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

You've been at this for hours. 

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

Hours since you saw Rex.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Any idea how many are left?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sir!" a voice shouts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's going on?"

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

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

"What happened?"

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

"The south tower?"

"Still holding."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"First time?"

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

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

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

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

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

"And?"

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

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

"Really?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are you?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Look out!" a voice cries.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That doesn't make it any easier."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel like you're drowning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't think it was enough."

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll do my best." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has to survive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Price agrees with a wince.

"Great," you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's the plan," Screwball grunts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How many are there?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Roger."

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

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

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

"Yes, sir," he mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You ready?" you ask.

"Ready, sir."

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

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

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

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

"Clear!" 

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

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

“Upstairs,” one of them calls back.

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

"Wait! General!" Price cries.

"Stay with the others!"

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

The scene that greets you is chaos.

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

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

"Snap!"

"Sir!"

"Nice throw," you call over the noise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And the others?"

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

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

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

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

It would be so easy.

So simple.

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

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

No.

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

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

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

"So no pressure," Snap mutters.

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

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

“Five of us,” you correct.

“Who—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What's the status on the generator?"

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

"Can you repair it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But," Price starts to protest.

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

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

Snap sighs and shakes his head. "Fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't need any—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dash!" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" Price asks. "Where?"

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

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

"We need to move," Price says.

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

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

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

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

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

"We had to try," you say softly.

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

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

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

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

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

"What's the status on the shield?"

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

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

"But what?" Rex demands.

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

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

"If I don't make it—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Get away from the generator.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But the shield—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you have to try.

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

"Go!" Snap orders.

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

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

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

You're so close.

Just a little further.

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

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

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

And then it's over.

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

You can see the sky.

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

The shield is down

Duro is exposed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I need a medic," Dash groans.

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

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

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

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

"If I had just..."

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

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

"Okay," he says. "Okay."

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

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

"Let's go."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just a little further," Snap whispers.

"Just a little further," you echo.

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

"You okay?" you finally ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We're saved," Price breathes.

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

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

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

"Hurry!" Price adds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know that light.

You've seen it before.

And it means only one thing.

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

"Is that—"

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

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

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

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

This is it.

You're here.

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

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

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

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

[paarksunghoon]

DEEP HONEY | SUNGHOON

SUMMARY: the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.

NOTES: felt some type of way and naturally i need a hug from sunghoon. best i can do is write about it.

PAIRING: sunghoon x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.6K

WARNINGS: angst, typical rough day stuff and typos, probably.

MASTERLIST

***

Your car comes to a complete halt when you situate yourself on the curb of Lee Heeseung’s apartment. The rumble of the pavement beneath your tires ceases to amplify the slight movement that naturally shakes your car seats and you sit in the driver’s side like you’re a zombie.

The muggy atmosphere from the heat attempting to displace the freezing air makes your skin feel sticky and gross as you turn your engine off. The overhead lights temporarily blind you as you stare ahead into the dark night and feel the tension building up in your body.

Your jaw clenches and your cheeks become warm with the sheer amount of frustration seeping into your bones. The cold sweat you harbor makes you feel hot and freezing at the same time. The coolness of your glass window does nothing to quell your body’s temperature.

The familiar two-story house beside you is where Heeseung lives. He rents the bottom property and has lived with Park Jongseong ever since you all collectively started the last year of university.

You don’t necessarily want to be here. Coming to Heeseung’s apartment because you feel like you might combust at any minute seems like an invasion of privacy. Your boyfriend Sunghoon had let you know that he was sleeping over at his friends’ apartment tonight and you had no qualms with the proposition. He deserved to have his time with his friends too. Although it seems that your mind has its own agenda and you find yourself in front of Heeseung’s place in no time.

You step out of the car and lock it. Your feet carry you around the hood and you step onto the hard sidewalk with a slight wobble. The air is chilling, throwing a stark shiver down your spine as you huddle in your arms for warmth. The jacket you have sprawled on the backseat looks at you with concern.

You’re a step away from ringing the doorbell but your finger hovers the white button as tears well up in your eyes. The feeling of desperation and burden weigh on your chest as you listen to the muffled laughter that comes from Heeseung’s living room. Sunghoon hadn’t seen his friends in a few weeks between classes, work, and you. The last thing you want to do is impede on his time with his friends when you’ve spent the better half of this month glued to his side.

But you can’t help it. Your nose feels like it could be burning from the cold and the weather forces you to ring Heeseung’s doorbell when it ripples through your shirt. You hear him padding to the front door and can make out his figure from the bottom, his shadow blocking the light from inside.

Heeseung opens it just slightly ajar to assess who’s standing outside his apartment at this late hour. When he opens it, seeing you standing in the cold with red eyes and no jacket makes him panic.

“Y/N?” he asks. “What are you doing here?”

You think he might close the door with the look of confusion on his face but he opens it wider to allow you into his apartment. He shuts it quickly behind him and notices your chattering teeth, eyes softening at the sound when you look up at him. Heeseung watches your eyes begin to water and puts a hand on your upper back to soothe your emotions, but it makes you spill a few tears.

“I-I’m sorry for coming here,” you hiccup. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. You can always come over if you need something.”

You speak faster than you can think. “Today was so awful.”

Heeseung purses his lips and tells you to stay put. You watch him retreat into the living room and stare at the wall clock in front of you until you hear Heeseung say, “Hoon, your girl’s here.”

Sunghoon hears the worry in his friend’s voice because he stands up from the couch like he’s on a mission. With his eyebrows furrowed and heart beating in his chest, Sunghoon follows Heeseung to the front door and is immediately presented with you.

You look nothing like the happy-go-lucky girlfriend he said goodbye to before heading over to Heeseung’s. This morning, you’d woken up next to Sunghoon and he’d given you a tender kiss before heading to spend the day with his friends. Now, your eyes are swollen and your cheeks are stained with salty tears.

His heart plummets when he sees you standing in Heeseung’s doorway with no jacket on. You look helpless in a way he doesn’t see very often. Your knees buckle in your pants and the goosebumps on your arms are prominent to his eye.

Sunghoon wastes no time and envelopes you in a hug, pulling you into his chest until your face is situated in his neck.

“Baby?” he asks, feeling your hot breaths against his skin. “Talk to me. What happened? You’re so cold. Where’s your jacket? Did you bring one?”

His deep, honey-like voice that utter sweet concern only makes you cry harder. You try to keep your chokes and sobs as quiet as possible but the hiccups emitting from your throat make it impossible. You try to ignore the fact that Sunghoon’s friends can likely hear you weeping, instead focusing on your boyfriend’s warmth.

His arms encircle your body, one hand protectively around your waist and the other secured behind you. Sunghoon’s hands cup the back of your head and he strokes his fingers through your head lovingly.

“I had a bad day.” Your broken whispers makes Sunghoon’s heart sink even further. He pushes your hair out of the way and kisses your temple with plump lips.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he says. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rethinking the events that led to your arrival at Heeseung’s place only fuels your tears and you shut your eyes, burying yourself further into your boyfriend’s neck.

Heeseung, helplessly standing around the corner, walks closer to tell him the two of you could use his bedroom. Sunghoon rubs the small of your back and slowly walks towards the room, guiding you inside without so much as a word spoken. Heeseung closes the door behind you two and Sunghoon immediately perches the two of you on the edge of his bed.

“My baby.” Sunghoon lifts your head and pushes the tears underneath your eyes away with the pads of his thumbs. “What’s got you upset, hm? Are you hurt?”

“No,” you choke. “I’m not hurt.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Sunghoon pulls you into his chest and further onto Heeseung’s bed when you give into him. He lets you cry against him, not caring that his shirt is becoming damp as the seconds pass by. His palm soothes the entirety of your back and he kisses the crown of your head, periodically squeezing you tighter when his heart breaks at the sound of your sobs.

“Life is so hard,” you say into his chest. “I feel overwhelmed and scared.”

“Scared of what, baby?”

“I don’t know. Everything? I had the worst shift at work today. A customer ordered a hot coffee but I made it iced by accident and instead of letting me remake it for her, she involved my manager and was making a scene in front of everybody there.”

“I’m sorry.” Sunghoon whispers against your temple and kisses it again. “That’s frustrating.”

“My manager tried to get her to leave but she was pushy. Usually I could handle that but I’m overwhelmed with school and my senior project that I just broke down when the manager sent me home.”

“Your manager doesn’t think you’re at fault, right?”

“No,” you shake your head. “Nothing like that. He said I looked like I needed some rest and told me to take the rest of the night off.”

“Thank God.” He squeezes you tighter. “I’m sorry you had such a bad day. You shouldn’t have to put up with mean people who get mad at you for making a small mistake.”

“Everybody is so fucking mean, Hoon.” You roughly push away the tears from your eyes with the heel of your palm. “I’m tired of everybody expecting so much from me. Between work, school, and my parents asking me what job I’ll have after graduating, it’s all too much.”

Sunghoon coos. “You’re so precious, you know that? You’re dealing with so much and you’re allowed to cry about it. I’m sorry everything is affecting you like this.”

“Sorry for ruining your boys night,” you sniffle. “I feel awful that I took you away from your friends.”

Your boyfriend shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. I’d come to you in a heartbeat if you called.”

His words only make you cry harder. Sunghoon is the perfect boyfriend. He dotes on you like you’re the only woman he’s ever loved in his entire life and lets you know how beautiful you are any chance he gets. He gets along with your friends and family, welcomes you into his own life, and makes you feel like you can achieve anything whether he’s in the picture or not.

Being with him has made you feel safer than you have in a long time. His arms provide the kind of comfort you’ve always been seeking and despite the amount of frustration and sadness in your body, it seems to be melting away with every kiss Sunghoon puts on your forehead.

Heeseung knocks gently and opens the door just slightly. You feel silly being held like a baby in front of Sunghoon’s friends who you’ve met only once before. It was at Heeseung’s house that you first met the three guys Sunghoon is closest to after they made an effort to invite you over to a night at the local dive bar before coming back to watch a marathon of Marvel movies. Your love for Iron Man catapulted the start of your friendship with Heeseung in particular and Sunghoon was starting to love how well you fit into his life.

“It’s been a while and I wanted to check in. You doin’ okay?”

You sniffle and hold onto Sunghoon’s arm. “Bad day. Everybody sucks.”

Heeseung laughs. “Preaching to the choir.” You immediately realize you neglected to take your shoes off when entering the apartment and scold yourself for bringing dirt onto his hardwood floors.

“Shit,” you say, pulling your legs higher so they’re farther from the surface. “I’m so sorry Heeseung. I’m sorry for barging in.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. Take them off, I’ll put them by the door.”

You oblige. Sunghoon holds you to balance your body as you hand each sneaker to Heeseung, who doesn’t look at you weirdly or scold you for interrupting his time with your boyfriend. Instead, he smiles at you and lets you know Jongseong and Sim Jaeyun, another one of Sunghoon’s friends that you met during the movie night, are outside and concerned for you.

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want to,” Sunghoon tells you as Heeseung closes the door behind him for a second time. “But they really like you and I know they care about you.”

“I only met them once,” you hiccup, toying with the hem attached to the bottom of his shirt. “How could they possibly like me?”

Sunghoon laughs and kisses your cheek. “I talk about you all the time. I’m pretty sure they’re sick of hearing me talk about you and would rather hang out with you instead.”

“You do?”

He nods. “Mhm. I have the best girlfriend in the world, you know. They had a lot of fun getting to know you and were planning on inviting you to a barbecue Jongseong’s having next weekend.”

“Really?”

Your doe-like eyes makes Sunghoon’s heart melt. He nods and kisses your nose. “Yes, baby. They love you. Not as much as I do, but a close second.” Hearing you laugh makes him breathe easier.

“I still feel bad for ruining your guys’ night,” you say with a pout.

Sunghoon eases your mind and presses a tender kiss to your lips to displace said pout. “We’ve all been there. If you’re uncomfortable, we can go back to your place and sleep?”

You shake your head. “This is your night. I don’t want to interrupt and make things awkward.”

“Why don’t we at least get you some water. You don’t have to say anything but at least drink something so you’re not dehydrated.” You don’t want to get up and face the embarrassment of the other three boys seeing you cry, but you know Sunghoon is right. After all the crying you’ve done, you’re feeling parched.

You nod and stand from him, all while he still has one hand in yours. Moments like this make you appreciate Sunghoon even more than you already do. He’s willing to do anything for you at the drop of a hat and it gives you butterflies when you remember this handsome, generous man is your boyfriend.

Jongseong and Jaeyun look at you with concerned eyes when you meet them outside. You try to speak but your mouth keeps opening and closing as you find the words to say.

“I’m okay,” you tell them. “And I’m sorry for ruining your night.”

Jongseong hands you a glass of water. “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. Everyone has bad days.”

“Yeah, but you guys haven’t seen Hoon in forever and this was supposed to be your weekend.” Your sincere apology and the cracks in your voice make Jaeyun’s eyes water too.

“It’s alright,” he tells you sincerely. “We love hanging out with you. You should stay and we can watch movies. We were gonna do that anyway.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Jongseong and I want you to stay,” Heeseung says. The two of them nod. “You shouldn’t be alone when you feel like this.”

“Fuck,” you say, voice cracking to the point where it makes you laugh. The four boys laugh as well and feel the relief in the air around them. “You guys are too nice.”

“We were gonna order takeout too,” Jongseong says, pulling his phone out. “We were thinking maybe fried chicken but Hoon says you love Thai food. Why don’t we order stuff from the place around the block and eat it family style?”

“Oh, you don’t have to change it for me.”

Jongseong waves you off. “Nah. We all love Thai. Any excuse to eat it.”

“And don’t think about paying us back,” Jaeyun says with a genuine smile. “I’ll pay for it.”

“We’ll split it by four,” Heeseung adds.

Jongseong lets you put in your order and everybody else follows suit. Sunghoon has you tucked underneath his chin as the whole ordeal happens and kisses the side of your face every so often.

“Feel better?” He asks, mouth against your ear. His warm breath is comforting, as to remind you that he’ll always be there for you.

“Much better.” Your voice is no longer brittle from your cries. Sunghoon smiles.

“My sweet baby,” he coos. “You’re so pretty when you cry.”

“What about when I’m not crying?”

“Still pretty.” He squishes your cheeks with his hands and pressed a kiss to your fattened lips. “Adorable, even.”

Jaeyun looks at the two of you and laughs. He can only hope that he’ll feel like that with someone someday. It compels him to say something.

“You guys are stupid cute.”

Sunghoon says nothing. He smiles at his friend and squeezes you tighter. Having him to lean back on makes you feel like you might be the luckiest girl in the world.

***

comments and reblogs would be appreciated! xx

[sirxlla]

OKAY IVE SEEN SOO MANY BATBOYS SHOWING READER THEIR SCARS

BUT

Reader showing batboys their scars!!!

Could be from anything preferably past abuse something

Showing Him Your Scars (Batboys)

------------------------------------------------

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Prompt: above ^^^^

Notes: female reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

Dick: Working together on the force for so long allowed the both of you to get close. Your doctor recommended that you have someone take care of you and the Captian told Dick it's his job to make sure I won't do anything stupid or try to heal from a stab wound you got in your arm, it's nothing bad, it'll heal in time but its making doing just about anything a pain in the ass including changing.

"I can help, Y/N. Let me. It's got to be painful. Let me help you change...Look, I'll even close my eyes if you want." Dick closed his eyes to show you he was honest, even covering his eyes like a kid which made you smile.

"No, it's fine, Dick. I'd rather you have your eyes open to do this. The last thing we need to do is irritate this wound any further." You said before Dick uncovered and opened his eyes and gently guided your shirt off making sure to be incredibly careful of the wound on your arm. His eyes scanned all the other scars on your torso; he's surprised at the sheer amount of scars you have.

"I think you might look more badass than I do." He gently traces a scar on your back. "I remember almost all of these, I didn't know your wounds were this bad."

"Yeah, but you know...sometimes you can't stop just for the sake of it; bad guys need to get caught."

"Yeah but not at the expense of you. You're way too valuable to keep getting hurt"

"Yeah? To who?" You asked with a bit of anger; you felt like you were always taking care of everyone else, but no one took care of you, and Dick answered you with one single word that meant everything.

"Me." His blue eyes gazed into with nothing but pure sincerity.

Jason: Jason was always nervous about anyone seeing any of his scars; once you happened to see them, he froze in nervousness. Would you think he's weird or ugly because of the scars that litter his skin? As you noticed the worry in his eyes, you very slowly brought your eyes to meet his as you slipped your shirt off.

Jason's eyes widen as he sees the scar that runs down the middle of your chest and disappears between your breasts.

"I had open heart surgery when I was a teenager. I used to hate it, but without it, I'd be dead or a much different person. Scars tell a story, a path to now." You said as you reached your hand out to touch his autopsy scar; it's so similar to yours but different. Just as beautiful.

"Can- Can I?" Jason asks as he reaches his hand out slowly to the scar on your chest. "It- It's beautiful."

"Well, if mine are, then yours have to be too. They're pretty badass." You smiled and showed him a few smaller ones that you'd gotten for dumb stuff but the way you embraced them made him feel so much better about his. You gently kissed the scar on his chest and in time he'd see his scars the same way you see yours.

Bruce: Anyone who's been around Bruce for any amount of time knows how many scars he had. Little did he know you had plenty of your own, so one day, as you were over at his place, you had asked him about scars and what he'd think if you had some.

"I suppose that depends on the scars, Love." His blue eyes gazed into yours with a bit of worry. "You have scars?"

"Don't judge okay?" You asked as you lifted your shirt and showed him the scars on your back; they looked like burns. Bruce's fingers grazed over what appeared at a closer glance to be cigarette burns.

"I wanted to show you before you found out when I was changing or sex or something...My dad he- he used to put them out on my back when I was a kid. Every guy I've ever been with just kinda laughs a bit."

"They laughed? Darling, this isn't something to laugh at; I mean, if you want to, then by all means, that's fine, but no one else should laugh at your pain." His fingers graze over them gently; he doesn't know what to say, so he says the first thing on his mind. "They don't distract from your beauty for even a second."

Your shoulders fall as you relax against his touch; he isn't blaming you or laughing or making you think you're ugly for the ugly actions of your father. He's amazing, he's reassuring and he's one of the best men you've ever known.

Tim: "What's the scar above your lip?" He asks you randomly as he rests his head in your lap, looking up at you.

"What sca- Oh! Um...It's super stupid, but when I was a kid, I liked to dance on the coffee table at my Grandmas and I busted my lip open...Grandma said I barely cried, and the next day, I was back to dancing on the table." You laughed as the memories flashed behind your eyelids.

"You never told me you were such a good dancer." Tim smiled back as he teased you.

"No, I was awful." You pulled down your shirt a little to show off the scar on your collarbone. "This was from ballet class, I did too many spins and smacked into the mirror. There's so many all over, just my clumsiness or dancing or both."

"So no dancing for you, I suppose. Either that or I get some really thick shoes, and then you can just stand on my feet, and I can do all the work." Tim teased a little as his eyes scanned your scars slowly as he took a moment to imagine the things you told him.

Damian: Training in the League isn't for the weak; real swords are used and real wounds are created. Damian knew you probably had several scars but you'd never showed them to him. He was curious and wondered if the number he had might be similar to yours.

"Can I see your scars?" He asked while the both of you were spending quality time reading together.

"My scars?"

"Yeah, I just wanna see if we have about the same amount."

"Yeah, I don't mind. I guess?" You pulled your long-sleeve shirt off as he pulled his off. Damian's eyes widened as he noticed how you had at least triple the scars that he did from training.

"They didn't put Lazarus water on the deep ones?" They had usually put Lazarus water on Damian's wounds if they were deep enough, he thought that they did that for everyone.

"Only if it hits bone." You corrected him, they never wasted a drop of Lazarus unless it was life for death for the regular soldiers in the League.

"Oh." Damian was surprised but also not. His grandfather wouldn't have wanted the Demon's Head to be littered with scars; he needed to look like he was better than them all. Damian runs his fingers over your scars on your back and he made himself a promise as well as you. "Things are gonna be different when I'm leading the League."

-> Masterlist

-> Send me prompts if you'd like

[alllgator-blood]

Hey! Idk if you'll see this but it's already been a while since I started to play cotl and when I searched for fanart I absolutely FELL IN LOVE with your artstyle and your stories!! The way you interpret and draw the bishops (who are my favs) is just so awesome and unique and I cried a lot while reading your comics but it was really worth it!! I saw some posts saying that you weren't doing good so I sure hope you are doing better and that you get all the love you deserve because you are awesome!! Thank you for feeding us with such incredible art you're the best!! (Sorry for the very long message and also if some parts are not very understandable i'm sorry.. english is not my native language but I hope you understood it!) You're doing great!! (Ps: I want to hug and smooch all the bishops they are so aofnapwqkslqlwlsl)

[HUGS AND SMOOCHES ACQUIRED, kallamar even offers one in return!]

Thank you so much, I unfortunately can't reliably respond to all asks but I see this one!! Your english is perfectly understandable btw, don't worry about it! I'm really happy my art can resonate with you like that, I think I said recently that if I had an "end goal" when it came to drawing, it'd have to be to make people Feel Things. Mostly sad things apparently. But any time I hear that somebody was moved by an angst comic or even just laughed at a shitpost, I feel content with the sheer amount of time I spend drawing these same four idiots over and over.

I appreciate you wishing me well, things are rough but that's what drawing sad stuff is for! I'm not sure if it'll get better but the hyperfixation on cotl is still going strong, so I'm still filled with joy and whimsy when I gaze upon these cartoon cult leaders <3

[casuallyawkardd]

Dating Miguel O'Hara NSFW

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x GN!Reader

Summary: Same thing as my other 'Dating Miguel O'Hara', this time for the grown ups

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! Sex, rough sex, oral sex, praising/degradation, breeding kink, consensual somnophilia, maybe angst if you squint, not fluent in spanish so correct me if I'm wrong on grammar/translations

A/N: I didn't use the same taglist as my past fics cuz idk how many of you are comfortable with this kinda stuff so please fill out my new TAGLIST if mature content is your thang 💅

First Time

Miguel would hold off until you're ready, honestly he's so busy he forgets how high his sex drive is and can get easily distracted. It's a week or so after you two became official and he can pick up on the signs. You're wearing something a little more revealing for date night, something to show off his favorite parts of you. Specifically your ass and thighs. Being a bit more touchy with a hand on his arm or leaning in close when he's talking.

He can even smell it on you, the faint scent of your pheromones making his head fuzzy. Hear how your heart beats a little faster when you invite him up to your place. The man has heightened senses, making him more perceptible to how your body reacts to him.

The first time he restrains himself a lot. Miguel is very much aware of what he's capable of, the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. On top of that, he's a big guy. A big guy who's...proportional. In every aspect. It's a canon event. He's a lot to accommodate and he knows it, so he takes his time.

Preps you well for him. Fingers pressing past your lips, letting you suckle the digits until they're slick with saliva, only to then spread you open with two fingers. Three when he realizes you're tighter than he had expected. It gives him the chance to figure out what makes you tick. What places his fingers have to graze that make your hips buck against his palm. Where to curl them to make you moan louder and arch your back so your chest is flush with his. How fast he has to move them to drive you over the edge.

However, no amount of fingering can prepare you for what's to come. It's a stretch regardless, a dull burn as he bottoms out. The first time hurts, but at the same time you feel so full. It's a deliciously addictive sensation, the pain and pleasure mixing together. Miguel trails kisses along your neck and shoulder, praising you as you adjust.

"Mierda, you're so tight for me."

"Take me so well, cariño"

You learn very quickly how vocal this man is, a stark contrast to his usual quiet and brooding attitude. Moaning and grunting shamelessly when he begins to move. He reminds himself to hold back, but that doesn't stop him from thrusting deeply into you. Falling into a steady rhythm as he ruts his hips against yours. You're trapped under him, his forearms and sheer mass caging you in. Miguel can feel his control slipping and he fights it every step of the way.

The teeth nipping and marking your neck and shoulders moving to bite into the flesh of his wrists when his fangs come out. Gripping your sheets and pillows so he doesn't accidentally cut the skin of your hips with his claws. He wants to though. He so desperately wants to grab you so he can fuck you even harder, move you to his liking. Miguel notes that he'll have to get you new bedding, like the kind at his place, after ripping up your pillows and sheets.

He makes sure to treat you well so you come back for more, picking up on every request and plea until you reach your climax. As you flutter around his cock, you get a taste of just how rough he can be. Miguel adjusts his thighs to be under yours, lifting and angling your hips so he can reach deeper, if that's possible. The last few thrusts fast and creating the most obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin.

When he's spent, he moans right in your fucking ear to let you know. His head moves to rest on your chest as you both catch your breath, you combing your fingers through his hair and placing rewarding kisses on the dark curls. Your breath catches in your throat when he lifts his eyes to you, the red of them glowing in the low light.

"No crees que hemos terminado, ¿verdad?" You don't think we're done, do you?

Early On

It takes some time to convince him that he's not going to kill you while you two are having sex. While he thinks he'll cause irreparable damage, both mentally and physically, if he loses control, you on the other hand trust him unconditionally. He's a good guy, a superhero for crying out loud, you don't see any reason to doubt him until he gives you a reason to.

It starts with little things to boost his confidence. Hands on your hips when you ride him, letting him pull you down on his cock when you move at a teasingly slow pace. A hand tangled in your hair while he fucks your throat, encouraging you to take him deeper with every thrust harder than the last.

It all pays off one night after the two of you get into a fight. In hindsight, it was over something stupid. Some asshole had made some inappropriate comments about you and that riled him up. You, on the other hand, could care less. He was just some dumbass who was mad you turned him down. Who then became even more bitter when Miguel showed up and he saw who he was 'competing' with.

Maybe it was because you didn't care, or because Miguel was still riled up from the interaction, either way he had to take out his frustration somehow. You don't know how you ended up bent over the back of the couch, Miguel plowing into you with no remorse, but you loved it. Rough sex was never something you thought you'd be interested in, but having his claws tear your clothes from your body and his sharp fangs graze suggestively along your jugular makes you excited. Makes you want more.

"You're such a fucking brat, mi amor"

"Remember who makes you feel this good next time some cabrón decides to eye fuck you."

Once he's finished 'teaching you a lesson', his words not yours, he treats you the usual aftercare. Cleaning you with a warm washcloth, preparing a bath if you ask him to, combing his fingers through your hair and praising you for being so good. It's when you're going to bed you realize that he finally let loose. And like you said, he didn't kill you. Just left you with some bruising and maybe a few nicks from when he tore your clothes off.

You make a mental note to reward him with breakfast and some morning head tomorrow.

Favorite Things

In terms of what Miguel enjoys doing with you during your-ahem- alone time, where to even begin.

In terms of kinks, it's a given that he has a breeding kink. Even if you are unable to actually have kids, he still just loves cumming inside you. To the point that when he finally pulls out his cum leaks down your thigh and he has to push it back in with his fingers. If you can get pregnant, he gets off on the idea of you carrying his child. Belly swollen with his baby inside of you. Pride flaring up in his chest at the mere thought of it.

Somnophilia is an unexpected turn on for him. It makes sense, after having multiple nights where you expect him to be home, only for him to arrive after you'd gone to sleep, sexual frustration was bound to happen. You'd talk about it beforehand, making sure it's all consensual. He'd come home to find you already in bed, in nothing but one of his shirts. No underwear. His indicator to know you needed him. Watching you be roused by his cock sliding into you, the half asleep moans falling from your lips, he finds it both mesmerizing and adorable.

Using his fangs on you is a rare treat. You had expressed interest at one point, wondering what it'd be like to be completely at his mercy when his venom leaves you immobile. It's not his favorite, but in those rare instances where he wants to remind you that you're his and only his, it comes in handy. You enjoy the manhandling aspect of it, Miguel bending you into whatever position he desires so he can fuck you stupid.

Sex positions depend on his mood. If he's feeling romantic, he likes to be able to look into your eyes. Mating press, cowgirl, even modified versions of the missionary position are what he enjoys. He also provides more foreplay, spending what feels like forever just pleasing you with his fingers and mouth. Especially his mouth. He loves thighs, so feeling yours clench around his head turns him on to no end. One time even, your thighs were positioned in just the wrong way when clamping around his neck, cutting off blood flow and he passed out; you were both too lost in the moment to notice until his body went limp on top of you. Don't worry, you guys had a good laugh about it when he finally came to.

"Dying between your thighs would be the perfect way to go, mi vida."

When he's in a bad mood, it's a different story. It's usually after a rough day at work or if you're pissing him off by being a tease/bratty. His goal is to have you trapped between his body and whatever surface he chooses, varying from the bed, to the couch, the wall, etc. Doggystyle, full Nelson and flat iron are popular choices. He's rougher than usual too, pulling your hair, leaving more hickies than normal and his dirty talk is more degrading than praising. Foreplay is more of a way to assert dominance over you, overstimulating you into submission.

"One more, cum one more time for me. Te voy a joder estúpido, putito." I'll fuck you stupid, little whore.

This is also the time when injury is more likely to occur. Nothing major, puncture marks from his claws on your hips and scratches from his fangs grazing your shoulder. You don't accept his apologies after because there's nothing to be sorry for.

On and Off

There will most likely be a phase in the relationship where the two of you are struggling to keep said relationship afloat. While problems in the bedroom are rare, issues usually being not enough sex, the relationship outside of that can be rocky. The both of you are busy and finding time to spend together becomes harder and harder to do.

The reasons for breaking up can vary. Sometimes it's on his end, Miguel wanting to protect you from his life as Spider-Man and wanting you to be happy and not waiting on him. Other times you're the one to end things because he doesn't provide you with the attention you deserve or because you feel like a burden to him and his work. Either way, even when you're not together officially, it's hard for the two of you to keep your hands off each other.

Miguel shows up to your apartment multiple times, most of the time uninvited. It's always late, the sound of the window to your living room sliding open, followed by his heavy footsteps is enough to wake you up. When you step out of your room, he greets you like a man starved. Sinking to his knees and wrapping his arms around your waist, lifting your shirt to leave kisses down your stomach.

"Been missing you so much, necesito recordar el sabor de ti." need to remember the taste of you.

He's trying to butter you up and you know it. Whether it be you missed him too or you're too tired to argue, you fall for it almost every time. Letting him grasp the back of your thighs to lift you as he stands, making his way to your bedroom with you in his arms and lips pressed against yours.

You don't know which you like better, the sex when you guys aren't together or the makeup sex that follows. Every. Single. Time. It's always after something happens, ranging between him finding out you're starting to date other people again to one of you surviving a near death experience. Either way, it always starts the same.

Miguel shows up at your place, as usual, but instead of groveling for your forgiveness, he's fuming. Mad that you're looking at other guys and not him, mad that he almost lost you, mad that he was stupid for letting you go in the first place...either way he's pissed off. A possessive hand at the nape of your neck, forcing you to look him in the eye. Eye contact is very important to him.

"You're mine, cariño. I'm not letting you go ever again."

After some bickering and maybe even shouting, the interaction usually ends with you ass up over the nearest object while he pummels you with his thick cock. One of his hands restraining your hips while the other is snaked around your torso, his hand wrapped around your neck and his hot breath against your ear. It's an odd routine you've become used to, borderline unhealthy even. However, while the lows can be pretty low, the highs are oh so high. The good times make you fall for his tricks without question. Besides, you both know he's the one wrapped around your little finger.

Don't worry though, for the ride or dies, it all pays off in the end. The back and forth between you two settles and Miguel finds his permanent home between your thighs. As well as your heart, of course.

Tags:

@khaleesihavilliard @leahnicole1219

[bexcookiee]

All the Batkids failed their first drivers test. They all got too used to occasionally driving the Batmobile. (Whether they were allowed to or not.) They broke at least half a dozen road rules each minute in that car and all struggled to switch to legal driving.

Dick was first and he got so many lessons to correct his poor driving. After being a menace of a child and Bruce letting him get away with shit, despite all the lessons Dick just couldn’t get the “way too many” road rules to stick in his head when he would go out a break half of them once a week. He was fully angsting during this period and only tried the test a max of twice before Jason died and he took a long break. (And maybe drove a lot of vehicles illegally when he needed to, there was no proof.) When Tim came along he tried again. At this point he had (illegally) driven enough and was old enough to properly understand road rules and passed on his next shot at it.

Jason died too early to take the test as ‘Jason Todd’, he took the test once in his main civilian identity and was about a meter away from crashing before the instructor slammed the brakes. He forged the license and told everyone he only failed because he couldn’t stand the backseat driving. He has crashed many vehicles and sends any of his traffic violations to Bruce to pay (despite having crime money that could definitely cover it). Dick bails him out frequently when he gets taken in due to the sheer amount of repeat offences Jason’s racked up. (Jason getting revived legally would just mean he claimed to have taken the test and wouldn’t actually take it.) TLDR; Jason literally never gets his license but certainly failed first time ‘round.

Tim was pretty close, he didn’t sleep the night before and told everyone ‘this is how I work best’. He failed on account of accidentally speeding, max 10km/h, over the speed limit when he zoned out slightly. He failed the second time because he, again, didn’t sleep the night before and so fucked up his parking and failed to stop properly at stop signs. He got his license third try when he actually got some sleep the night prior. However no one ever wants to get into a car with him because he never actually sleeps enough for his driving to become road safe.

On Cass’ first drivers test she failed on account of ignoring road signs. After driving the Batmobile regularly using the quickest route she was used to turning left despite signs that say no left turn and honestly stop signs, what are those? Cass was begrudgingly a little more sensible than some of her siblings so she drove the Batmobile more often and instinctively broke many of these before the instructor could get a word in edgewise. Her instructor considered switching jobs after she crossed four lanes of traffic, very well mind you, when there was absolutely no reason for her to even go that way. (It was the path she always took to Arkham after a breakout. Instinct had kicked in.)

Duke failed for speeding. There were a couple other infractions but he managed to get those excused, no one really knows how. Miraculously he got his license on his second try. (He shouldn’t have, letting him on the road was a mistake.)

Damian got a bunch of lessons and tried really hard to show his siblings that he was the best of them. By the time he took the test he got all the normal stuff down and could probably drive better than Duke or Cass when he wanted to. He failed on account of accumulating too many little infractions. He was pissed. He took more lessons, like way more than he actually needed to, and also got his license second try. No believed he actually got it without threatening his instructor (he tried it the first time) legitimately and wouldn’t get in the car (civilian ids) with him behind the wheel for a good while.

[beauty-and-passion]

TBOB PART 3: OF BILL'S SOLITUDE AND BILLFORD (1/3)

What can I say? I’ve always loved the canon ship in almost every fandom I was in.

Welcome, everyone. Welcome to the third part of my endless rambling about Bill Cipher, The Book of Bill and Gravity Falls in general. Now it’s time for the ship, so sit back and relax, because there is a lot to talk about here.

Yes, I was one of the people who shipped these two eight years ago. And I shipped them as soon as I finished watching the series, because… well, there was more than enough proof that something was going on between them.

Unfortunately, the mentality at the time was “Bill tries to kill Dipper as soon as he has the chance? True love. One trillion proofs that Ford and Bill have something going on? How dare you think that, you are a Bad Person™”.

And yes, I know I could’ve written one post years ago and tried to explain Billford back then but�� it would’ve been so, so tiresome. Especially considering that pedophilia was a-okay, but Billford shippers were terrible people Because Yes.

But hey, times change, people change and TBOB gives us enough proofs even a blind person can see them. So. it’s finally time to extensively talk about this ship - this time, from Bill’s point of view.

(For the disclaimer and everything else, refer to the first post. And read the previous ones too, if you like! They will help you understand some things I take for granted here.)

<- Previoust post - Masterlist

_______________________________

Billford has always been canon

The thing is: now as then, Billford has never been a ship about “and they ended up happily ever after”. There was never an intent to glorify abuse or to say that Bill and Ford had the healthiest relationship and everyone should have the same.

What was so captivating of this ship was the tragedy of it. The clearly evident infatuation. The obsession these two had for each other.

This is what pushed people (me included) to ship them: because it’s interesting. The dramatic possibilities, the angst, how deeply an obsession can go to the point you lose yourself to your partner… and yes, of course also the interesting images that can come up by imagining such different beings having something physical (if you’re not a coward and give Bill a human form). It’s not the typical fluff with a couple being lovey-dovey 24/7: it’s a lot more. There is a lot that can be explored. It’s wonderfully challenging, both on the writing plane and purely mentally.

… and yes, it's funny for crack and parodies. These two being cringe and pathetic or married and divorced at the same time is always funny.

Sure, at first we had just the show to support this ship. But oh boy, if there weren’t enough proofs already:

Ford’s house was filled to the brim with images, pictures and stuff of Bill. His goddamn windows are triangular-shaped. Not even the Vatican is filled with so many images of God - and I can assure you the windows are not Jesus-shaped.

Ford made a deal with Bill to be together “from now until the end of time”. Until the end of time. That’s basically a marriage, only even more extreme, because fuck death, we will be together until the last supernova evaporates. And before you ask: yes, it takes such a stupidly long amount of time, it’s bonkers. That’s real infatuation.

Ford consensually gave his body to Bill for possession. Just imagine the sheer trust you need to surrender your whole self to someone else. Not even a married couple can reach this level of trust. And definitely not “just friends”. Maybe BDSM couples can come a bit closer to what these two had.

As soon as Ford returned home after 30 years, Bill greeted him in a dream, called him “his old pal” and was all nice and friendly. No hard feelings, no reprimands, nothing but flattery and threats because, as we learned from TBOB, these two things go together in his head.

Bill asked Ford to join him 200 times more or less.

Bill gave Ford 200 nicknames more or less.

During Weirdmageddon, right after Ford tried to kill him with one of the things that could’ve destroyed him (the quantum destabilizer), Bill welcomed him with a smile, offered him a place among his freaks for the umpteenth time and, when Ford refused again, he turned him into his literal golden trophy wife and carried him around.

By comparison, when Preston Northwest offered his help, Bill shuffled the function of every hole in his face and ignored him completely right after.

Also: Ford tries to shoot me and fails by sheer luck? Please please please, be one of my freaks. Dipper tries to throw me a punch that will literally do nothing? Death. Bill doesn’t have double standards, nope nope.

To convince Ford to give him the equation, Bill’s first thought is to bring Ford into a private suite, serenade him and ask him to join him for… what? The 220th time?

When Ford refuses, Bill puts chains on him in the kinkiest possible way known to mankind, with an iconic image that screams of BDSM.

Somehow, all of this wasn’t enough. And so, we had Journal 3, in which:

Ford called Bill “his Muse”. Oh, my mistake: he called Bill “his blessed Muse”.

Literally lavishes Bill with compliments. So. Many. Compliments.

Says Bill will “seduce” you with never-ending flattery. Interesting verb choice here, Ford, are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell us?

Ford named a constellation after his Muse.

Once he went through the portal, instead of hiding away forever and good luck finding him, Ford held a 30-years-old grudge and decided HE would’ve killed Bill, no one else. That’s not a simple obsession between friends.

But after all of this, something was still missing.

Until now, it was quite certain that Ford had a COLOSSAL obsession about Bill. The religious fervor, the sheer trust, the depth of his grudge all made it very clear that Bill carved a deeply rooted place in his heart and mind - a place he kept for most of Ford’s life.

But what about Bill? Did he even care about Ford?

We had no idea. Sure, he showed some kind of care: he gave Ford special treatment during Weirdmageddon and seemed to value him enough to offer him a place among his freaks multiple times.

But when did this care start? Was it just because he needed Ford? What about their pre-betrayal relationship? Did Bill even care before?

The most plausible explanation at the time was that pre-betrayal Bill was simply flattered by Ford’s lavish adoration. Maybe he liked the guy a bit (otherwise, why waste time with him?) and humored him in his fervor, but nothing more than that.

But then the betrayal happened and Ford switched from adoring him to opposing him. He actively ran away, found ways to keep Bill away from his mind and came back with the sole intention of killing him.

At the time, I thought this was the moment when Bill started to be truly interested in Ford. Before Ford was just an adoring pet. Now he was more. Now he was interesting. Now he was worthy.

And that opened the door to even more angst possibilities! If Billford was just a “one-sided relationship” before, now it could’ve been the story of two beings who loved/cared about each other, but at different moments in time: Ford in the past, when Bill didn’t love him yet. And Bill in the present, when Ford wasn’t in love with him anymore. The perfect tragedy, ton of angst, love that.

But now, with TBOB and thisisnotawebsitedotcom, the tragedy that is Billford gets a new, angst layer. A beautiful, angst layer.

Because it’s not that Bill never cared about Ford or cared at the wrong moment in time: Bill cared right from the start.

_______________________________

Deeply alone

One detail about TBOB that people aren’t talking too much about is the sense of solitude that permeates it. There are parts in which you can literally feel Bill’s loneliness.

One example? The Bill Tells All section. I know it’s supposed to be a funny parody, but it’s also a perfect image of how alone he is. He’s so alone, he has to be host, interviewee and audience at the same time, because no one else is willing to listen or talk to him.

And in light of the information we got about his past, I think this is an extremely important part of Bill’s character and personality.

Let’s come back to Euclydia: the anthem/poem on the website emphasizes how close people are (“LOVED ONES WILL BE EVER NEAR”), so it’s very possible Bill grew up surrounded by his loved ones.

And then, one single event and everyone disappeared. All the people who surrounded him one second ago, were gone the second after. “There was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe.”: if this line means solitude for us, just imagine how much, much stronger that same solitude would be for someone who, until that moment, has always been surrounded by others and knew no other reality than that.

That’s another level of solitude: it’s a black void of emptiness, something all-encompassing and all-consuming. It’s a hole carved inside you that nothing will fill ever again. And it was you, the one who carved it.

Of course Bill became insane. Of course he chose to find a justification for his action, by saying that he liberated his dimension and that his people were holding him back. I don’t know what he would’ve done, if he hadn’t. Probably, he wouldn’t have found a way to survive.

But he survived. He repressed his trauma, justified it and kept going towards the stars he was aiming for.

Still, that void was inside him - and we know he tried to fill it. He tried by dating a literal void, for god’s sake. And he tried by surrounding himself with people.

That’s probably why he became who he is: a flashy, flamboyant figure, someone who loves to be the center of attention, because that means having people around. It means people listening to him and being with him and surrounding him again. It means not being alone again.

I mean, just look at this book: every page has something new and interesting, every page is a different attempt to keep you involved, to keep you around and listen.

But an audience can always leave. An audience can stop being around. And that’s probably why Bill searched for someone closer, someone who wouldn’t leave him so soon.

He searched for new loved ones.

_______________________________

Love and hate

Bill’s love advice put a real smile on my face, because sure, they’re funny, but at their foundation, they all share the same goal: to show to your potential partner your qualities and how you would be able to carry/provide for them and your offspring.

Why is it so funny? Because that’s exactly what every single living being does to attract a potential mate: showing off your colorful feathers, singing louder than others, fighting other rivals, showing how clever you are, using pheromones and special smells. And, for humans, something like, idk, showing how wide your hips were as proof that you would carry healthy babies. Or showing off how wealthy you are, to prove you can take care of your partner and your offspring.

Bill himself follows this mentality, considering advices like “have two of everything to show your wealth” or “show how much calcium you have (aka how healthy you are)”. Heck, he even has a seduction hat which is basically one huge phallic shape!

And, again, this makes me smile, not just because it’s a clear parody of those men who keep showing off their huge, large vehicles. But also because he usually wears a tall top hat. And how funny it would be, if a tall top hat was indeed a way to win a partner in Euclydia? What if that’s how his father got his mother? Please, I want a fanfic or Mr. Cipher entering a place with a top hat big and wide enough to win Mrs. Cipher’s heart (while not accidentally piercing through another shape). I bet it would be hilarious.

Funny love advice aside, I would also point out these two things Bill says:

Love and fear are right next to each other in the brain and, like most humans, Bill also can’t tell the difference (he doesn’t even think there is a difference)

“love is the pupa stage for hate”

The fact Bill mixes love and fear explains why he is like that in general - and with Ford too. If love and fear are the same thing, then there is no difference between flattering someone and threatening them. There is no difference between partying with his friends and scaring the shit out of them. There’s no difference between helping Ford and hurting him. And there’s no difference between allowing him to see Fordtramarine and “joking” about someone coming to steal his eyes.

Also: if “love is the pupa stage for hate”, then Ford coming back after 30 years hating him was completely normal for Bill. It was just how things were supposed to go: first he loved him, now he hates him. Still, same thing. Still worth a place among his freaks. Still worth flirting. For Bill, nothing has changed - just evolved in a natural way.

And yes, this is uber duper fucked up and great material for toxic Billford. But it also makes me think: how did Bill get this mentality? How did he manage to mix love and fear so much? When did it happen?

Inevitably, I think about Euclydia. And inevitably, I think that “the incident” is when Bill mixed the two things.

When he still lived in Euclydia, Bill clearly experienced both love and hate: his mother at least seemed to love him, the other kids didn’t. Bill doesn’t like his optometrist either and we have no clue about his feelings towards his father. Later in his life, Bill recognizes his family and his world tried to blind him/”snuff out his potential” - so, again, something more similar to hate than love.

Then, Bill destroyed his place. He had to deal with a trauma so huge (i.e. experiencing solitude for the first time in his existence), it left a void inside him. A void he decided to suffocate with lies - lies that, in the end, are just half-truths. His place was bad and his family was holding him back! But that was also the place that showed him love for the first time. His people were flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams! But among them, there was also the one who loved him right from the start.

I believe this is when the two feelings got mixed in his brain. In his attempt to justify and cope with his mixed feelings regarding the universe he just destroyed, Bill ended up mixing love and fear together and believing that love is just one stage of hate. Unable to deal with the vastity of solitude, Bill put together justifications for his actions and messed up his own perception of feelings.

The result is someone who is deeply, deeply alone and who desperately keeps searching for love to fill that void… but is unable to do that, because he cannot distinguish between love and hate anymore.

That’s why he has a lot of exes. And that’s why they’re all exes.

But hey, at least there are friends, right? Right?

_______________________________

Bill’s friends are full of potential (especially one of them)

The perfect friend for Bill should be:

alone, outcasted, rejected by society, possibly an orphan looking for a purpose in life (so exactly like him)

completely devoted to him

Which you can see by yourself that this isn’t exactly how a friendship should work. The friend exactly like you can still work, but the friend completely devoted to you who should do everything you want… well, that’s not a friend. That’s not even a pet, because even pets do not follow you around with such lavish adoration.

But somehow, in the vastity of the Multiverse, Bill managed to find some friends. And oh boy, what friends:

Pyronica is a beauty queen AND she has a twin sister AND she dated Hectorgon. Cool, but not enough. I need details. But, like, a lot. Her entire story would suffice (maybe).

Amorphous Shape is invisible to most of the Henchmaniacs. How? Why? Who is she, really? Where is she from? Where is her backstory? Why isn’t it here? I need it here.

Hectorgon was a goddamn sheriff and Bill just throws it like that?! I want his backstory too! I want to know everything about him!

Keyhole hates Pyronica? Why? What happened? Where is all the juicy gossip, Bill? We need the gossip!

And most importantly: a certain someone was part of Bill’s gang. Someone with a photo that has been covered, but it’s still partially visible. And as soon as I saw it, I jumped up on my bed and asked: “Wait… is this Jheselbraum?!”

The answer is yes and thisisnotawebsite confirmed it: she was one of Bill’s Henchmaniacs. And now the right question is: how much do you want The Book of Jheselbraum, from 1 to 10?

I mean:

In the partially crossed-out part about her in TBOB, Bill says she figured something related to dimensions

In the shaman page (TBOB) there is a code: WHICH HENCHMANIAC RATTED ME OUT

In Journal 3, Ford has been saved by her, who sucked him out of the 2D world of Exwhylia

Jheselbraum told Ford that Bill’s “thirst for power caused him to destroy his home dimension - including his parents and everyone else he’d ever known” (Journal 3)

Still in Journal 3, Ford says she spoke of Bill “without anger, but with a calm, steely, clinical resolve to see his reign of terror end”.

In addition to that, let me add this part from thisisnotawebsitedotcom under the code TANTRUM:

I KNOW YOUR CRIMES, CIPHER. TAKING A NEW HOME WILL NOT MAKE UP FOR THE ONE YOU’VE LOST. WHAT YOU DID TO THE COUNTLESS SOULS OF EUCLYDIA- Cipher stopped in his tracks. YOU CHOOSE YOUR WORDS VERY. CAREFULLY. Ciphers henchmen murmured amongst each other, confused. They seemed to have heard conflicting stories about Bill’s past. “You said you liberated the people of your dimension-” LIBERATED THEM FROM THEIR BODIES! DONT LISTEN TO HIM! HE’S A BABY!

Can you see how HUGE the potential is?

What I believe for now is that:

Jheselbraum figured out what Bill really did to his home dimension (i.e. destroying everything and not “liberating” it, as he said to his Henchmaniacs)

She started to actively find ways to stop him from doing the same thing again

She “ratted him out” with Bill’s new potential puppets on Earth

Bill found out she didn’t just rat him out, but found out the truth about Euclydia too and that’s what led to her escaping

She settled closer to a 2D world - maybe to learn more about Bill, maybe because she knew Ford would’ve appeared there

And speaking of that, we have the message on thisisnotawebsitedotcom under the code SEVENEYES:

This is something someone else wrote to her. Someone who told her to escape to a crossed-out Dimension (who guesses that the crossed-out thing was the number 52?). Someone who told her it was against the rules, but it was also the only way to escape him (aka Bill).

And from her code, you can find out the other criminals found new homes as well.

In other words, we have a hidden spy story, in which someone helped Jheselbraum escape from Bill and, in turn, she helped all others escape Bill.

If you don’t want a book about her, about her story as Bill’s henchmaniac and about this whole thing, you are a huge. Fucking. Liar.

_______________________________

And with that, let’s close part 1 of this umpteenth endless analysis. The next one will come soon and it will be all about Billford.

Yes, I know I already talked about Billford here, but we still haven’t talked about the details in TBOB and Bill’s perspective on it. Also, it’s always nice to talk about Billford.

See you soon~

-> Next post

(How about a coffee? ☕)

_______________________________

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[peachyfnaf]

Who are your favorite TSAMS artists?

GOD i have SO many, and i also have the worst memory imaginable!!! hold on let me like try to fuckin compile a LIST

@/polaris-stuff

^ I will never shut up abt polaris' art. she's so good at posing, lighting, texturing, showing emotion, literally the whole shebang. also once every two months or so she drops a piece like this or this or this that leaves my ass FLABBERGASTED ON THE FLOOR and thinking about it SO MUCH for SO LONG. polaris S tier frfr

@/zthesheep

^ Z CAN DRAW SO GOOD SO FAST AND IT'S SCARY. he's also hella talented at animating and pov/perspective-work and his art needs more attention rn or im gonna blow up this whole website

@/turbotasthick

^ GOD. TURBO IS SO FUCKING GOOD AT DRAWING THINGS THAT JUST KNOCK THE BREATHE FROM MY LUNGS. and theyre ALSO good at making things that just make me giggle and be HAPPY. like, the silly goofy bm and noface art they do?? joyous and whimsical, but when they DECIDE TO DROP A PIECE BASED OFF AN OLD VICTORIAN PAINTING THAT WATERS MY CROPS CLEARS MY SKIN AND CLEANSES MY SOUL? ascension

@/meemo32

^ They way they color and render things brings me so much joy and satisfaction, theyre also hella good at posing too. shaking around their doodles in my teeth like a cat

@/crees-a

^ GOD. CRESPA. I LOVE THEIR STYLE SO MUCH AND THEIR FULLY RENDERED PIECES STRAIGHT UP LOOK 3D SOMETIMES. THE SHEER AMOUNT OF DETAIL THEY PUT INTO EVERYTHING THEY MAKE IS ASTONISHING AND THE SPEEEDDD THEY DO IT AT IS SO SKJDFHSHDF YK? also i love how they're just an autism creature incarnate lmao

@/fablekitty

^ fable art soft.... fable art elicits me to me feel warm and fuzzy. looking at her stuff invokes the same feelings from me that those old 2015 fnaf speedpaint videos with fnaf music playing ovterop of them did. calmness and a subtle happiness

@/kuuchaos

^ another one who's specific style/way of drawing the dca just brings me so much joy. im a sucker for people who draw em with 3d noses. also the lighting MASTERRR. style that is so squishable yet so strong. oobleck-like artstyle.

@/milkyshea

^ THE SOFTEST AND MOST HOMELY ART EVER. also i could be wrong so dont quote me on this but i THINK milky draws on their PHONE and that. that is insane. thats coocoo bananas. milky how do u draw like that on your phone. milky what are they feeding you

@/frankie-funked

^ ART STLYE THAT MAKES ME GO "HEEHEE" EVERY TIME I SEE IT. ART STYLE THAT MAKES ME VERY HAPPY AND I LOVE THEIR FULLY RENDERED STUFF. GUYS HAVE YOU LOOKED AT THEIR FULLY RENDERED STUFF??? IT'S FUCKIN' JAW DROPPING AS HELL

@/momokooooooooooooo

^ god i love momoko's human tsams stuff so much. i love the outfits they put the characters in, they're always so creative and have such intricate details in them that i just find myself staring to inhale it all. ALSO CAN BE A PERSON WHO SUCKER PUNCHES ME WITH THAT GOOD ANGST SOUP WHEN THEY SO CHOOSE TO DO SO

@/paaatchm

^ JUST ANOTHER ONE WHO'S ART BRINGS ME JOY AND WHIMSY. their solar design? i love him, especially that one time they drew him with like a steampunk mecha arm. that shit was SO COOL and i just. something about their style is another one that just makes me go 'HHRRHRGRHGGGRHR" /VPOS

@/superstar8bongos

^ what am i to say? it's bongos, we all know that bongos is like. so talented it makes everyone clip through the walls. their way of coloring/rendering is incredible and if i stare at their art LONG enough hopefully i will be able to absorb their skills and have a fraction of their power

@/hazard-c-horror

^ I LOVE. HORROR ART. SO MUCH. HAZARD IS LIKE THE OASIS FOR ME IN THE MOSTLY FLUFF-FILLED/NON-HORROR LAND THAT IS THE TSAMS ARTIST DESERT. they're so good at making things unnerving but also hella cute at the same time? like, their OC, Hazard??? fucking FREAK but also omg thats an OUPPY. also how they do expressions w characters eyes my beloved

@/flufffydestroyer

^ THE best artist on this site to go to if you need to look at some art to perk you up and make you smile. art that is very soft and sweet and loving that will warm you up like hot cocoa on a cold winters day. i love all their trans sun and characters as babies stuff

@/samoftheswamp

^ the best tmgafs/teaps artist on this entire site and i will not be convinced otherwise. i love how they use shapes SO much, and also just their overall. just their overall everything. their puppet-master design??? hello??? put that in a museum

@/marshmallowcat666

^ artist who i have not seen many pieces from but every time i do i just go "!!!" cause' something about the way they color and pose (esp when they do multiple-character pieces) just makes me perk up. joy and whimsy

honest to god i have more but this is already so long im going to end it here solely for the fact that i, tragically, have to do other things than gush about cool artists. punches the air

[artists-ally]

{She Gets The Flowers, Right?} Reader x Lucien Vanssera {Pt. 3}

Welp... here you go! I shall prepare to be boiled alive. Enjoy!

Word Count: 7,525

Warnings: you know the drill. Angst, language, hurt/comfort, nasty ass cliffhanger

Tagging: @bubybubsters @thelov3lybookworm @cyrygher @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @anuttellaa @crazylokonugget @thehighlordishere @acourtofbatboydreams @thisblogisaboutabook @fabulouslyflamboyant5 @venuseuripedis

Summary: Can everything be reconciled? Be repaired? Was it all just a big misunderstanding?

~~~~~~

READER POV

THAT MORNING...

There is nothing quite as startling as waking up to the sound of silence. In a life full of chaos, full of commotion and the constant buzz of energy, silence is unsettling. Especially in a house that should be full of laughter, taunting jokes, and easy smiles.

Anger seared my heart. Branded it black. Visions of heated conversations seep into mind, flooding my vision in red. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been so mad in my life. The fact that he chose her over me. But I refused to let him disrespect me. I said hurtful things. And a twisted part of me likes the fact that they hurt him. I wanted him to suffer and grovel as much as I have been. 

It’s petty, but I don’t care.

I push myself out of bed, dragging to the bathroom to sort myself out. I look in the mirror: skin? Dry. Eyes? Puffy. Lips? Swollen. I look tired. I am tired. And no amount of sleep will fix the bone deep ache of sheer disappointment. 

Gods, he is still everywhere. Even with all his stuff gone; his toothbrush, his signature scent, his body soap and cufflinks sitting in the dish behind the faucet, somehow, he’s still here. Bits and pieces of him, of his once kind words…. All of it has turned sour. 

A day has yet to go by where I don’t think of him. Of his laugh. Of the way his lip trembles when he cries. 

I miss him. 

And every day I hate myself more for it. 

I shouldn’t miss him. What did he do besides torture me with the fact that he’ll never give me the time of day? Just like Elain was doing to him. I hope he’s happy. No, I don’t. That’s a lie. I hope he’s just as miserable as I am. 

That’s even more of a lie. 

I dress without thinking, my outfit the same as it has been for the past month and a half after opening the restaurant. The double breasted, black chefs coat with three stars embroidered over the heart. The slithering, embroidered black filigree on the shoulders, in a slightly different sheen to make them stand out. The pants had matching details over the pockets and down the side of the pant leg. My boots slip on and I grab my cap, fitting it over my head before heading out the door to get an early start. 

Every fucking day since I kicked him out has been an early start. Anything to keep myself in this place we used to call home. I should move. Repaint at the least. Change something. 

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. 

Everything is painfully the same.

When I need change the most, I can’t–for the life of me–decide what I want that change to be. 

It doesn’t fucking matter. 

He’ll always be there.

A murmur in the back of my head of what could’ve been. 

Should I be this jealous? This aggravated over this whole thing? Am I overreacting? It’s not like he cheated on me, we weren’t even together. But I wanted him so bad I was willing to kick him out because he chose someone else over me. Oh Gods… I am a horrible-

No, I stop myself. Taking a deep breath as I step down off the porch, heading down the well beaten dirt path towards the city. Your feelings are valid. He hurt you. Badly. You didn’t overreact. Some would say it might’ve been an underreaction, or how could you have let it go on this long? You are allowed to be upset, for as long as you need. No one can tell you otherwise. 

No one can tell you otherwise. I repeat the words over and over. I stare down at the cobblestone sidewalks, firsts clenched under my arms. I chew my lip. I clench my teeth. Things I always did, and things Lucien would try to get me to stop. 

He’d put a hand on my shoulder. Or grab my hand to keep from digging my nails into my palms. 

No one will ever know me as well as he did. 

And that shatters my soul.

The thought of having to try to explain the events of my life to someone all over again… it’ll be impossible. Why couldn’t he have just loved me back?

Before I have time to realize where I’m going, I’m at Meliora. I see Ms. Immy bustling around. I wonder if she ever sleeps. 

“Ah!” She cheers when I walk in the door. “My Spirit of the Gods! How are you dear?”

I give a half smile. “I’ve been better. Just the usual for me, please.”

“You are still missing your Fox?”

I nod. I watch as she pours the bubbling water into my mug, dipping the peppermint tea bag into the liquid. She’s so methodical. I’ve been here a thousand times, and she manages to make it the same way every time. Ms. Immy dusts the top with granules of sugar, adding a mint leaf to the top. She slides it in front of me as she grabs the chocolate chip muffin from the case. 

“When are you going to talk to him?”

The question throws me for a loop. I answer honestly, “I wasn’t planning on ever seeing him again.”

She snorts. “I doubt that will hold true. He misses you too.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.”

Yes. I do. “I don’t know how to forgive him.”

“Then don’t.”

I blink. What? “So, you think I should make amends with him, but not forgive him? How does that work?”

“He is your mate, no?” I nod. “Then you love him. Why is it so difficult to forgive someone you love?”

“I don’t know,” I bit my tongue. “I don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“Yet you still want him back.”

Wow. I sound so pathetic. I cast my eyes down, tapping my fingers on the mug. “No matter how much I love him, I won’t let myself remain second place. I refuse to let myself go through to torture of always being picked next. Never first. No matter how much it hurts to stay away from him.”

She clicks her tongue, wiping down the counter behind her. Faintly, she hums a tune, its melody ringing in my ears. I feel like I knew it once. But I've been so caught up in everything that happened last month to bother trying to hold onto those types of memories. 

I am losing myself.

“Do you know the meaning of Meliora?”

It’s the name of her cafe. I shrugged, “No, should I?”

“It means the place for better things, my Spirit. It is an ancient omen, an ancient oath of the Night Court. This is a Meliora, a place for better things. Seems like you could use some better things.”

“I have Latibule. I am living my dream of owning a restaurant. Better has come.”

“And it has gone,” Ms. Immy says. “Don’t fool yourself Yn. You are lost without Lucien. If he were to ask for your forgiveness, to give up Elain and all that has happened, would you accept him? If he said he only wanted you, would you have him?”

I grind my teeth together. The peppermint tea has turned to acid on my tongue. No one can tell you otherwise, no one can tell you otherwise…

“There are things in the world Yn, so precious and hard to find that it would be stupid to let it go. To trade it away over unintentional negligence. Lucien loves you. You love him. The two of you have been blessed by the Cauldron with a mate. Let it go to waste and suffer the consequences of never being able to fill that void. Let it rot your mind and heart for anyone else.”

I grind my teeth harder. Why does she insist on forgiving Lucien? 

“After everything I did for him, after saving his life and rebuilding him from the ground up, he decides to repay me how? By forgetting about me and standing me up on the most important day of my life? Seems pretty unforgettable to me.”

“There is a great balance in this world. And to keep it, the Cauldron dishes out magic and illusions to offset it. Lucien got the short end of the stick and got more than he could handle.”

“Well that's not my fault.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “But it is your problem. Yn, all I’m suggesting is you give him a chance. There is no telling what will happen between you two if you don’t try.”

“I don’t want to try, what if I make things worse? What if it doesn’t work out?”

“But what if it does?” _____

But what if it does? I have been doing nothing all service besides thinking what Ms. Immy last said to me. But what if it does? I start spiriling with questions after that. 

What if it does work out? Will I be able to fully trust that he won’t run back to Elaine? If it doesn't, will I just spend the rest of my life trying to find him in everyone else? Will I ever find someone else? How can I be so sure that he’ll want me in his life after I’ve kicked him out? If I see him, will I want to punch him in the face? Could I even stomach looking at him? Would I just puke from nerves and anger? Should I even bother? What if I never get the chance to-

“Yn, there is a table seated in section 8 for you,” my lovely hostess, Esmira, calls from the window.

“I’ve got six pans on right now, Es. I can’t just take a table. Where are Karos and Daxillion? They’re supposed to have a handle on this right now.”

“We’ve got a full house. It’s the High Lord and Lady, as well as her sister and the General.”

Shit. It’s midweek, why do we have a full house? Especially at lunch. From what I’ve heard amongst my staff's gossip, Lucien has been living at his house. I don’t want to see anyone. Especially someone who’s been caring for him. 

“Okay… okay fine I’ll take the table. Go take their drink orders and I’ll be right back. Esro, I need you to cover my station in between checks.”

“Heard,” he calls back dutifully. He always takes the shit I give him and dusts it with gold. I should give him a raise. 

I jog to the supply closet where I have an extra uniform stashed in case of an emergency. I change quickly, taking my cap off and fluffing out my hair. Not bad but… not great. I still look so tired. 

Esmira scampers into the bathroom to hand me their drink list. A bottle of wine and water for the table. Easy enough. 

Racking the glasses onto the carrier, I haul the bottle of wine and decanter of water to the table, plastering a courageous smile on my lips. Who knows if it’s actually convincing. 

“Evening, my High Lord and Lady,” I greet. “Cassian and-” Elain. It’s Elain. What is she doing- “Elain. Good to see you out and-”

“You don’t have to pretend to be excited to see me. I know you’re not. I ruined your relationship with Lucien.”

Well, shit okay guess this is happening now. What do I say? “He made a choice, it’s not your fault.” I settled on. 

But it is your problem… screw you Ms. Immy. 

She looks hesitantly to the High Lord, who gives a firm nod. She sighs. “I’ve tried to stop him from pursuing me for months. He still comes back. I share no bond with the firehead.”

Firehead, ha! Why had I never thought of that one?

I just press my lips together, fighting off the prickle in my nose and throat. “Can I take your meal orders? Anything you’d like to start with?”

“He misses you, Yn.” Rhysand spoke. His violet eyes swirling with stars. “Is there a chance you’ll talk to him?”

I feel like such an outsider looking at the Inner Circle. There were so many outcomes I could’ve had in Velaris. I could’ve been a part of their Court, not just an inhabitant. But I chose the path my heart wanted, and lost the thing it needed most. 

I swipe the tear away as fast as it falls. 

“I’ll bring a round of bread for the table.” And I head off. 

____

After I had served them their meals, bid them farewell with a pitiful look on the High Lords face, the room was a lost less crowded. 

Now I’m starting to wonder if we were meant to say goodbye. Maybe there is something salvageable. But I don’t want to shred myself to pieces for a maybe. Even he is not worthy of my self destruction. 

But what if it does?

“Hello?” A sultry voice says from behind me. I rack the polished pint glass and turn over my shoulder, greeted with a handsome face. Too handsome… curse these high fae. He’s got rippling muscles as he crosses his arms over his chest, eyes a vibrant, ashy caramel. And his hair… “I’m looking for Yn?”

What does he want? “Is there something I can help you with?”

“For once, my brother wasn’t reserved in his descriptions.”

What? His brother? I stare at the male, taking in his sharp nose, those eyes like fire, his hair… oh Gods-

“I’m Lucien’s brother, Eris.”

I stay silent, taking in his face. Fuck, there is a lot of Lucien there. More than I’d like to see. They have the same eyes and hair. And it hurts to see so much of him in someone else.

“Now, I don’t particularly care that much about who you are-” 

Charming. 

“-but I do know you made my brother happy. At one point or another. I also don’t care what happened between the two of you, but it must’ve been bad.”

“Leave.”

“Whether or not you talk to my sorry bastard brother means nothing to me. But if I have to deal with one more Court meeting where Rhys and his brute ask me if I’ve talked to him, I will rip off my own ears.”

“I asked you to leave my restaurant.”

“Is this how you treat all your customers?”

I narrowed my eyes, “You are not a customer, you haven’t ordered anything. So have a good day, Eris.”

“I’ll take a pint of ale,” he smirks. Smirks, like I’ve got all the time in the world to listen to him babble about how much he wants me to talk to Lucien. 

With a viscous yank, I pull off the glass I just put away and fix it under the tap. I debate spitting in it. That most certainly would not end well for me or my restaurant. I’ve already had one Vanserra ruin my life, I don’t need another to ruin the only hope I have left.

I slap the glass down in front of him, turning around to finish unloading the clean dishes from the drying racks. 

“So,” he slurps his drink, “when are you going to fix your shit with Lucien?”

“I’m not.”

“Why not?”

“Because he hasn’t earned my forgiveness.”

“What would it take?”

“Doesn’t matter. I won’t forgive him.” Can he stop asking me so many fucking questions? I just want to clean up, shut down the kitchen, hand out todays tips and go the fuck home. 

“Why?”

My hands came down on the steel counter, rattling plates and saucers. “Why are you so fucking concerned with something that isn’t your problem?”

He goes quiet for a second, and I’m blessed with a moment of peace from his irritating voice. “Because, despite being nothing but a pain in my ass, he’s still my brother. And he’s miserable. And you’re the reason why.”

“No,” I snapped, ready to hurl a glass at his thick fucking skull. “He’s the reason he’s miserable. He did all the damage on his own. All I did was ask him to be there for me, and he threw me aside like a stray cat begging for a warm meal.”

“What did he do?”

“It’s none of your business, Eris. Go away, the bar is closing.”

“I still have a tab open.”

“Then come back tomorrow and pay it.”

“But I’ll be away.”

“Then it’s on the house,” I sighed, too exhausted to deal with this. “Just go. Please.”

“As soon as you tell me what he did I’ll-”

“He fucking ruined me, thats what he did.” Thank god the restaurant was empty or else the whole city would know that I’ve been completely shattered by Lucien Vanserra. Who am I kidding, I’m sure everyone already does. “All I asked was that he be there for me the day I opened my restaurant.”

Eris puts his palms up, “well? Where was he?”

“Where do you think?” The glare I sent him made him back off. 

“Oh…”

I scoff, “yeah, oh. I gave up everything for him. My family, my home, my life to restore him after he fled to the Spring Court. I just wanted his support. And he was busy with a female who would rather be tortured than in his presence.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to blame Elain for-”

“I wasn’t blaming Elain,” I corrected. “Lucien let me down. Unforgivably. That's the end of it. I don’t want an apology from him, it won’t do anything for me.”

Eris let out a long sigh. “Look, I understand that he hurt you. I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings. He fucked up. Point blank. He’ll never be able to take back what he did and said. But is there any way that the two of you may be able to move on?”

“Move on?” I scoffed, a cruel laugh escaping me. “Move on? Eris, I confessed to him that I am his mate, and he told me I was selfish because I wasn’t happy about him and Elain.”

“Were you?”

“Of course I was,” I ran my palms over my face. “Did it hurt knowing he’d never look at me like that? Yes, but I was prepared to live with it if it meant that he got to live a happy, fulfilled life. I didn’t care who it was, it was the fact that he forgot all about me. On more than one occasion. Menu designs, recipe tastings, wine tastings… all of it. He missed all of it to go be with her.”

“So you’re jealous?”

It took everything inside me to not rear up and smack him across the face. Who does this asshole think he is? Instead of possibly earning myself more trouble, I take his glass of ale off the counter, dump it, and rinse the glass. 

“I wasn’t done with-”

“Well, you’re done now. Thank you for dining with Latibule, but the restaurant is officially closed. See yourself out.”

Eris clicks his tongue, pushing off the bar. The rustling of his clothes chafes together as he walks away. “Lucien cares about you, Yn. From the very few mentions of you he’s shared, I can tell he thinks highly of you, no matter what you may think.”

Then the door snaps closed, and I’m left with nothing but a pulse in my ear and tears in my eyes.

____

After a quick mop in the kitchen I shut off all the lights and lock the front door. As I’m walking down the street, a thick, crackling scent hits me. And my stomach churns. It’s familiar, part of it still lingering in my house. But this one is more… just more.

“Eris, leave me alone.”

“I did a lap around the block, and I was thinking-”

“Hope you didn’t hurt yourself too bad.”

Eris chuckles, then laughs. “Feisty, I can see why Lucien would like you. Just give him a chance.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why are you Autumn Court fae so fucking dense?”

“Just be thankful it was me and not my father who came to see you, then you’d really see dense.”

“Please,” I rolled my eyes. “If I ever came face to face with that bastard I’d do a lot more than hurl words at him. I’m not particularly fond of you either, so be careful how you speak to me.”

“What if I arranged a meeting for the both of you? To talk things out and see if there is any common ground to be found,” Eris suggested, falling in stride with me as I walked up the path, back towards home. 

“Gonna pass on that one. If I wanted to ‘arrange a meeting’, I would’ve already done it. I don’t need Lucien's big, scary older brother to do it for me,” I mocked. 

“You think I’m scary?” He smiled.

“I think you’re annoying and disrespectful.”

“A lot of the High Lords of Prythian would agree, try not to be so original.”

Don’t rip out his eyes, don’t rip out his eyes. He’s just trying to get under your skin, don’t let him win.

“Come to think of it, there is one High Lord in particular who seems to agree with this idea of trying to get you and Lucien back together.”

“If you even think about dragging Rhysand into this-”

“He approached me,” Eris admits. “He’s sick of Lucien moping around the Town House all the time.”

“Then tell him my advice is to kick him out,” I bit out, more than tired of this conversation. “And stop following me, Eris. Go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

“But I have to make sure you get home safe, Lucien would have my head if something happened to you,” Eris reasons, knocking his shoulder into mine. 

“Is there an imminent threat against my life, Eris Vanserra?”

“No?” 

“Then there is no need for you to walk me home.”

“But if there was an imminent threat, I would be able to protect you,” Eris smiled, and curse me… it’s a nice smile. I glare up at him, but he just smirks back. 

I decided to seal my lips. If I don’t respond, he can’t get any more information out of me. 

“Just think about this for a minute: if you decide to have a conversation, one of two things is going to happen. You’re either going to confirm everything you already know; he’s an uncaring, forgetful bastard who doesn’t give a shit about you or the lives you two have built together. Or, you’re going to realize the exact opposite; that he does care, and it was all a misunderstanding. And that he does care about the life the two of you have built together.”

I can’t be bothered to care about what he wants anymore. I’ve spent too much of my life caring for his every waking need. When is it my turn?

“You are his mate, Yn. It goes against every instinct in your body to reject him. Why do you keep fighting yourself on what your heart wants?”

Because he betrayed me. He completely broke my trust, ruined my image of him in one night. Why does no one understand that? 

“I get it, he hurt you or whatever, but are you really going to risk the chance of eternity together with him because of one mistake?”

He and Ms. Immy would get along well. And it wasn’t just one fucking mistake, it was about seventeen. Apologies don’t mean a thing if you don’t ever fix what you did wrong. I can see my house, just a few hundred yards away. I can slam the door in his fucking face and spend the rest of my night doing anything but thinking about Lucien. 

“Yn, just answer me,” Eris demands. “I know there isn’t anyone you’ve talked to.”

“No you don’t.”

“Have you talked with anyone about this?” I stay quiet. “Exactly, you need to release this. To scream and shout and yell-”

“I’ve tried that. Didn’t do anything for me.”

“Have you punched anything? I like doing that when I’m mad,” Eris snickered. 

I just rolled my eyes. “I’m about to punch something soon.” He takes a step back as I finally reach my door. I unlock it and push it open, kicking off my boots at the door. I have no reason to be bitter to Eris. he’s just trying to help, trying to be there for his brother. Now, whether or not he’s doing it in the best way is certainly debatable. But at least he’s trying. I sigh, feeling incredibly defeated. “Would you like a drink?”

His smile is softer, and he gives a nod, following me inside. 

As I make us a drink, he looks around the kitchen and the living room. 

“Gods it looks just like the Autumn Court in here,” he chuckles, picking up a pillow from one of the chairs. 

“Yeah, Lucien did most of the decorating.”

“It’s gotta be difficult to see it every day.”

I bite back a sob, “You have no idea.”

“I know I am not the easiest person to get along with, or the most…tender, but if you are hurting this bad, then I know Luc must’ve been special to you. And you special to him. So, if there is anything I can do, tell me.”

As I slid the glass across the counter, I stared at my hands. Would talking about this really make a difference? I just feel like it keeps opening up old wounds without giving them the time to heal. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to move on.”

Eris looks at me, thick brows knitted together. “Because you miss him?”

As much as it hurts to admit, I nod. “So fucking much, Eris.”

“Now, do you miss him, or just having someone to share a space with?”

I blink up to meet his eyes, the ashy-caramel irises full of so much life. “I miss him. I don’t know when he started distancing from me, but I clearly didn’t notice it quick enough. I started to miss his smile first. He stopped laughing for a while after he met Elain. The creases between his eyes replaced those around his mouth.”

“Yn-”

“He started being late to everything next. He would apologize but… they weren’t sincere. I tried not to be hurt by it but… I don’t know. I thought maybe it had to do with stuff happening from the Spring Court and with Tamlin. Doesn’t matter, it just kept getting worse. He’d only talk about Elain, ask for advice on what to do since ‘I was a female’.”

“Oh Lucien…” Eris rubs his eyes. “Even for him that's low.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I didn’t snap earlier. Part of me wanted to hold onto something I knew I couldn’t have. Then came the grand opening and once he was late for that?” I shook my head, biting my lips so as to not sob in front of Eris. “Nothing he could’ve done would’ve made up for that.”

I don’t know why I’m opening up to Eris. He’s probably just going to relay it word for word back to Lucien. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. 

“None of what he did is excusable,” Eris says. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand. He wanted to spend time with his mate. He just wanted her to know that someone was there for her. But did he do it the right way? Absolutely not. And he fucked up, really bad.”

“Can I give you something?”

Eris just stared blankly at me. “What?”

“Just stay here for a moment,” I set my glass down, charging up the stairs. It’s been burning a hole in the bottom of my closet since I found it a few weeks ago. The lump of midnight blue fabric was a crumpled mess, but his scent still lingered on it. 

I held it up to my nose. Inhaling deep. It’s time to let go. 

As I stand in front of Eris, I hold out the shirt. My throat is like liquid iron. “Give this back to him, will you? It was one of his favorites.”

This shirt… this god damned shirt. It always looked so good on him. With the color of his skin and the tone of his hair. All the jewel tones made him look marvelous, but there was something about the teal color. Tears slid onto my cheeks. The first night he wore this shirt was when Rhysand and Cassian took him out to dinner. “To try and get to know me better,” Lucien said. He thought they were going to interrogate him. But he wore this shirt with dark blue pants and black leather boots. His hair was braided away from his face… I braided it back away from his face. 

Eris’s hand on my cheek pulls me out of the memory and into his eyes. “Did you keep this, knowing it was his favorite, hoping one day he’d come back looking for it?”

The fact that he figured it out so easily made my blood run cold. I tried to answer, but the sound of the door creaking open made me forget what I was going to say.

My heart dropped.

Eris’s hand was frozen on my cheek.

Lucien dead still in the doorway. What is he doing here?

Eris clears his throat, taking the warmth of his hand as he drops it to his side. “Brother, perfect timing.” Perfect timing? Did he- “No, I didn’t plan this, Yn. Though I respect you for thinking me so clever.” Eris turned me, blocking my view of Lucien. He folded the wrinkled shirt in my palms. “This is your chance.”

And then he left. He slipped around Lucien with a subtle glare and shut the door behind him. 

Lucien looks… he looks so…

“I thought you would be at the restaurant,” he spoke, voice low and cool. “I can came back-”

“What did you want?” I asked, curious as to why he’d be back here ever again. 

“Actually I wanted um… I came here for that shirt.”

Oh. Oh. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Yeah, yeah, take it. I found it doing laundry a bit ago.”

Lucien crosses the threshold of the room and takes it from me. I’m waiting for him to ask me about Eris. To ask about how I’ve been. Or to apologize. Gods Luc, please say something.

“I see you met my brother. What did he want?” 

Here we go. “He walked me home from Latibule.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Well, I hope he wasn’t too much of a pain.”

I snicker, but refrain from further details. “You look well.”

He did, he looked healthy. His arms and chest fill out his shirt in a way they never used to.

“I’ve been training with Cassian for a while,” he explained. That’ll do it, I guess.

“Sounds exhausting.”

He gives a faint chuckle, “It’s interesting.”

Then we just look at each other. My heart swells, and crashes down. My fingers and toes go numb and my head feels lighter. I want him to stop looking at me so intently, yet I don’t want him to leave. Ever again. I want him to stay here and build a home with me. A new home with new memories and new adventures. But the logical part of me knows it’ll never quite be the same. 

“Why was Eris here?”

“I told you he walked me home from Latibule.” He gave me a look that screamed ‘I’m not buying that shit’. I must have no resolve because I caved instantly. “He came and found me to talk about you.”

I’ve never seen Lucien look so worried in my seventy years of knowing him. “Why?”

“He wanted to know if I’d ever forgive you. Apparently he’s tired of dealing with Rhysand begging him to talk to you so he came to me.”

“Yn,” Lucien’s eyes sulk, “If I had known Eris would’ve found you I would've just talked to him. I just wanted him gone and away from me. I didn’t mean to drag you further into this.”

“It’s fine, he only mildly insulted me. I see where you get it from.” It was a low blow, but seeing him wince made me feel a bit better. It was petty. But cathartic. 

Silence stretched between us. Wrapping around me like a pit viper after delivering a lethal dose of venom to its prey. It constricted and constricted and constricted-

“I love you.”

I almost looked around the room to see if someone else spoke. But it was his mouth that moved, and it was his voice that sang. 

“What?”

“I love you, Yn.”

“No-”

“I love you,” he gasps, tears filling his eyes. “I-I… I am so in love with you.”

“Lucien stop,” I beg, that numbness spreading up my arms and calves. 

“I am so so fucking sorry for the way I treated you. You are so undeserving of that after all that you did for me. I was selfish and blinded by what I thought I wanted. You were right, Yn. About everything. I never once considered that it could be you because I just always knew you’d be in my life. I never thought that I’d lose you but when I did I… I broke. I can’t live without you. I need you. I love you.”

“You don’t get to decide that you want me and then waltz back into my life. That is not how this works.”

“Please Yn just give me a chance to apologize and make things right.”

“No,” I shouted, anger leaching into my tone. “No, I gave you one too many chances I think. I have given you too much, Lucien. More than enough for one lifetime and you're just now realizing that you want me back? ”

“I’ve always known I’ve loved you Yn. I just didn't understand how much. Or in what way. And I know that’s my fault and my problem. In some way I was cursed by the cauldron to have two mates. But it blessed me with one who cared enough about me to take my broken spirit and make it whole again.”

“Good luck finding someone to do it again because it will not be me this time.” I crossed my arms over my chest, turning away from him. 

“Yn please just- just let me speak. I truly didn’t mean to hurt you. I got so caught up in the fact that I finally had a choice in this world that I forgot to think about everything else in my life. I never meant for you to feel anything but loved and appreciated.”

“Lucien, you somehow managed to achieve everything you meant not to do.”

A sob tore through Lucien. And one tore through me too. “You never gave up on me, not once. From day one you have always believed in me, what happened? What changed?”

“You’re complete and utter recognition of my existence changed, Lucien!” I screamed, not caring who heard me. “Ever since the war ended you haven’t paid me the closest bit of real, undivided attention. You only spoke to me if it was about Elain, what dinner was going to be, or if I had gotten the next project done on the restaurant. But not once did you ask me how I was doing or if I wanted to go out for a fun night. I just faded away into the back of your mind.”

My blood curled against my bone while I waited for a response. He stared at the floor, eyes darting around and around.

“I’m so so so sorry, Yn.”

“I’m sure you are.” More empty apologies

“How do I fix this? Tell me what to do. I’ll do fucking anything you want just tell me- please Yn I can’t leave here without saying I gave us every chance we had-”

“And I told you I gave you one too many chances to apologize.”

I refuse to be walked all over. I refuse to be second place. I refuse to be treated as anything but a first priority. My heart is too big sometimes, and I’ve been known to forgive under less likely circumstances, but this is where I draw the line. 

Lucien gets down on his knees. “Please, my Yn. I have nothing without you. You are entwined in every corner and crevice of my soul. I know I’m undeserving of you. But somewhere deep down I think you still love me. Even if you hate me right now, and I do not blame you. I have been an awful person-”

“Lucien please don’t-” my throat feels like it’s swelling closed.

“-but I cannot see a future without you in it. If I don’t have you by my side, then all of this is useless. All these heartbeats, all these breaths of oxygen are worthless without you giving me a reason to have them.”

I try to get a grip on the world spinning around me, but it’s of no use. “Lucien get up.”

“No,” he shakes his head, pieces of his hair falling loose to frame his face. In times like these I would once comfort him. Place my hands on his cheeks and tell him how worthy he is of love and protection. And here he is, trying to do the same for me. “No, I need you to listen to me.”

“I don’t wanna hear what you have to say.”

“I don’t care. I have to tell you otherwise I might burn alive. I have never regretted a day more in my life than that night a month and a half ago. It haunts my every waking nightmare. On repeat, every night for me to relive and beat myself up over. I deserve every second of it. You’re right, I did discard you to the side like you were nothing. And I sweat my life on the Cauldron that I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know I was doing it until you pointed it out to me. Then I just… I fell apart.

“I had no idea what to do, where to go. Ask anyone, for weeks I was unable to get out of bed after I came and got my stuff from here. The only person I talked to was Ms. Immy. Even she knew about it. She told me to respect your wishes, to not neglect them like I had neglected you in the past and I might have hope. So as hard as it was, I stayed away. Because I didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Ms. Immy told me it wasn’t my fault that I neglected you- well… it was, but- but it was now my problem. To try and fix it. And she’s right, you’re right. Fucking everyone is right. I just want to fix this with you.”

It’s not your fault, but it is your problem. Damn that wise hag. 

My muscles are so taught they begin to ache. I can’t handle this, I don’t want to handle this. I want him gone- no… no I want him to stay and tell me how much he’s fucked up. To validate me because he spent so much time doing the opposite. 

“What if I don’t want you to fix things?” I asked. “What if I wanted you to leave and never come back?”

“That’s not an option. Being out of your life has never been an option. I want you more than anything I could think of. I am going to fix this between us one way or another, today, tomorrow, or a hundred years from now. But I will never stop trying because I love you.”

“Don’t say that,” I plead, turning away from him. His hand wrapped around my forearm, locking me in place. “Let go of me. Now.” 

“Not until you give me a legit reason why we cannot fix what we have. Yn, you have given your entire life to me. Let me return all those years back to you.”

“I don’t want you t-”

“You don’t have to forgive me today, but let me try to make it up to you. My Spirit of the Gods, who cares so much more about the lives of others than her own. Let me be the one who cares about you. Let me bear the weight of your burdens.”

“Lucine stop talking.”

“No,” he roared, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that I won’t stop trying to fix things with you no matter how much you hate me. I love you too much to let you slip through my fingers. I made the biggest mistake of my life when I blew off the most important night of your life. Through everything, you were there for me, and I didn’t return the favor when it mattered most. You worked so fucking hard on Latibue, Yn. And I am so unbelievably proud of you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there to support you.”

“For Cauldron's sake, Lucien, shut up.”

“Why are you refusing to listen to anything I have to say?”

“Because if you say one more Gods damned thing about how much you love me and how fucking sorry you are, I might just forgive you and I am not ready to forgive you because I am still livid with you!” The confession tears from my lungs. I heave for a breath, carefully watching Lucien. “I’m not ready to be comforted by someone who hurt me so badly.”

“Then I’ll give you time,” Lucien’s eyes soften as he stands. “I can live with you being angry at me, but I can’t live without you at all.”

“I can’t possibly know how long that’ll take.”

“I don’t care how long it’ll take,” he shrugs. “I’ll wait until our souls pass again if I have to.”

My mind is too cluttered. My heart in too many shards. “You don’t need to wait for me. I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I know you will,” he smiles. Oh how I’ve missed his smile. His smile. “But that doesn’t mean you need to be.”

He wants to fix things, he was begging on his knees for you to listen to him. He’s okay with you being angry at him as long as you give him a chance. He loves you. He loves you back. After all these years, everything you’ve been waiting for… it’s right in front of you. Even if it hurts, even if you’re scared it is better to do it afraid then not at all.

I broke down into tears, my chest wracked with sobs. All this locked up pain and indignation exploding out at once. And Lucien is right there to keep me from falling. “Shh, Yn it’s okay,” he purrs, holding me so tight I can’t breathe. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

I have spent so long loving this boy, begging him silently to love me back. And here he is… why can’t I find the space inside me to let him in?

“Lucien…”

“My Yn,” he breathes, cradling my head to his chest. 

I take a deep breath. “I love you.”

I feel his body relax.

“And I think you should leave.”

His body goes rigid. He pulls away, hands reaching to cup my face, but settling on the backs of my arms. “W-What? Why do you-”

“If you spent all this time waiting for it to be the right moment to make peace with me but never taking the opportunity then it’s too late.”

“Yn please- this is me taking the opportunity.”

“No,” I shake my head, sniffling. “This was just a coincidence. You didn't come here with the intention of making amends. You came here just to get a shirt. So here,” I picked up the shirt, shoving it in his chest. “Take it. And go.”

“Wait-” I began to push him to the door. “Yn wait! Yes I came here to get my shirt. No, I didn’t think you’d be here. But you were. So I took a chance. I took a risk for you.”

“Do you really think I’m so naive?” I scoffed, opening the door and shoving him through, rougher than I intended. “If you want me, then you’re going to have to do a lot better than getting down on your knees and saying you love me.”

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, anything.”

“If you need me to tell you, then there’s no hope for us.”

He stares at me, eyes begging, pleading, hoping and praying that I’ll just tell him. Despite the slight sweat on my skin, my body feels calm. Powerful. I feel in control. 

Then his lips are on mine, and any sense of reality I have comes crashing down. 

[mingoooossii]

Love.

Yunho x reader

Synopsis: so reader gets shit from work and stuff happens and they make up.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, insecurities, fear of abandonment(?),self-hatred(kind of). fluff at the end and some kisses. Might be a Lil awkward since I can't do emotions. Also it's long, idk how many words but it's long. Typos maybe?

"Babe!"

The soft glow of the television flickered across the room as Yunho entered.

"Have you seen my hoodie? The grey on-"

But his question died in his throat as his gaze landed on his partner.

You sat huddled on the couch, the phone pressed tightly to your ear, brow furrowed in a picture of distress. Yunho's smile faded, concern gnawing at him.

He stepped closer, his voice soft. "Everything okay?"

You flinched at the sound of his voice, quickly ending the call. You took a deep breath, trying to mask your distress with a weak smile. "Yeah, just work stuff." you mumbled, avoiding his eyes.

Yunho wasn't convinced. He knew you better than that. Your "work stuff" rarely left you this visibly shaken. He sat beside you his hand hovering over yours, offering silent support.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice laced with concern.

You hesitated, then sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "They called," you said, voice barely above a whisper. "About the project."

Yunho's stomach clenched. He remembered how much time and effort you had poured into your current project, how excited you were about it. His mind raced with possibilities, none of them pleasant.

"It's gone." you said, voice cracking. "Deleted. Apparently, a system glitch. And now I how to redo it in 3 days."

Anger sparked within Yunho. "That's ridiculous! It's not your fault, and expecting you to pull that off in that time…"

His words were cut short by a sharp look from you. "Don't." you snapped, your voice thick with unshed tears. "You wouldn't understand."

Yunho recoiled, his heart sinking. "What do you mean I wouldn't understand?" His tone softened, replaced by confusion.

Tears streamed down your face. "You're good at everything, Yunho." you whispered, voice laced with self-hatred. "You're talented, it's all natural to you. I'm not like that i..." You paused, wiping your tears away desperately.

"I'm not talented like you and... this is the one thing that I'm good at and...if I can't even do that, then what good am i?" You sobbed, wiping your face, frustrated at the non-stopping tears, breaking his heart further.

Your words hit him like a physical blow. He had never realized how you perceived him, or how it made you feel. The truth was, he admired your dedication, your resilience, the sheer amount of effort you poured into everything you did.

"That's not true..." Yunho started, a hint of desperation as he reached out to you. "You're wrong. You're much more than you think you-"

"I don't need you to appease me." You cut him off with a bitter tone, picking up your laptop. "Yunho, leave me alone." You looked away from him, reserving yourself to the office room. He watched as the door shut close with a sickening thud, resonating with his heartbeat.

Three days crawled by, each tick of the clock echoing the growing distance between them. You were a whirlwind of activity, fueled by adrenaline and exhaustion. Your eyes, once bright with passion, were now shadowed with determination, bordering on desperation. Meals were quick, silent affairs, your focus solely on the screen illuminating you.

The frustration gnawed at him, but he knew pushing wouldn't help. This was your battle, and you had to fight it your way. Instead, he chose to show his support in quieter ways.

He stocked the fridge with your favorite snacks, left a fresh mug of tea outside your door, and even attempted to fold a few stray shirts (with predictably disastrous results).

He knew deep down that you weren't shutting him out, you were shutting yourself in. All he could do was be the ground beneath your feet, a constant presence even when you couldn't see him.

'i did it...i actually did it!' Three days. After 72 excruciatingly long hours, you finally did it. You finally pushed back from your desk, your eyes stinging from exhaustion but a flicker of triumph lighting them. The project was done.

But the elation was short-lived, choked by the hollowness that echoed within you. Guilt, suffocating and heavy, settled on your chest. The memory of your cold words, the slammed doors, the silent treatment you had inflicted on him all came rushing back. Shame burned your cheeks. In your single-minded pursuit of finishing the project, you had pushed away the very person who loved and supported you the most.

With trembling legs, you walked towards the living room, your voice thick with fear and regret. "Yunho?" You called out, voice barely a whisper. Silence. You tried again, louder this time, voice laced with desperation. Still nothing.

He usually came back from the company at this time except for...today.

Then he left...you?

Panic clawed at your throat at the thought. Tears streamed down your face, carving hot tracks on your cold cheeks. You sank to your knees, the weight of your actions crushing your spirit.

'He finally had enough of your selfishness and left you..' Your mind spun, conjuring scenarios, each bleaker than the last. You sobbed into your hands, not noticing the door opening.

Yunho stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. The grocery shopping took longer than he thought. He hummed a low tune as he walked into the living room, freezing when he spotted you, on the floor.

Panic settled within him at the racking sobs that escaped you. Dropping the bags, he was instantly by your side, cradling you into his arms. "Baby, what's wrong?"

Startled, you whirled around expecting the worst but instead, you found his concerned eyes.

Relief washed over you, a tidal wave threatening to drown you. But before you could speak, Yunho's face crumpled with worry, holding your face gently. "Honey, What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

His concern, so genuine and unwavering, broke the dam of your emotions. You collapsed into his arms, the sobs returning with renewed intensity. All the guilt, the fear, the shame poured out in a torrent of broken words. "I thought you left me..."

"Why would I leave you?" He asked, voice gently but you could see the confusion in his eyes.

''I thought you got sick of me and left." You sobbed, your voice barely a whisper. I'm so sorry for being so selfish and i pushed you away and I-"

Yunho cupped your face, cutting you off by pressing a kiss to your lips. He wiped away your tears with his thumbs. His gaze was soft, filled with love, so much love.

"I was worried sick, Y/n. " he admitted. "But I understand. You were going through so much, and I…" He paused, searching for the right words. "I just wanted to be there for you, but I pushed too hard. I should have listened more."

He held you tighter, his heart clenching at the fear in your embrace. "You must've panicked because I was late."

He pulled back, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there. "I just went grocery shopping to stock up. I should've told you earlier, I'm sorry, love."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, but all you saw was love and concern. Shame washed over you, hot and prickly. How could you have doubted him like this?

"I'm so sorry." you whispered, voice trembling. "I was awful. I shut you out, and then…my stupid thoughts…"

Yunho shook his head, cradling you close to him, his voice soft. "Don't apologize, it's not your fault. But I'm never letting you go through that again."

Yunho pulled back, gently stroking your hair, his eyes soft as he gazed at you. "But you really thought I was going to leave you? Never, you're stuck with me forever." He said, voice gentle yet firm. "You know how obsessed i am with you."

A choked laugh escaped your lips. "You're impossible." you mumbled, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

Yunho grinned, holding you close. "Maybe. But I'm your impossible, and you're mine. That'll never change."

A weak smile adorned your face. "Promise?"you whispered, voice barely a breath.

"Promise!" He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your lips. "And that's a seal! Now..."

He swept you off your feet. "Let's get you something to eat. You haven't eaten properly these days."

As he carried you to the kitchen, the tension that had coiled within you began to unwind. The weight of your insecurities and fears vanishing entirely by the warmth of his presence and the unwavering certainty of his love.

[hwangyeddeongie]

top 5 ryeji fics? 👀

hello anon!

okay so this is kind of an impossible question but I'll do my best to answer 🫡

(not in any particular order)

1. there's a demon in my home (and it's here to stay) by qaisal

i wanted to put more fics by qaisal here, but I’ll keep it at one lol. all I’ll say is that there’s a reason this person has the top 3 fics in the ryeji tag! the witch school setting, the shapeshifting, the enemies to lovers….i love this fic so much

2. among the sea’s salt by ForTheFlowers

I remember this being one of the first long ryeji fic I read and I was just completely blown away by first, the amount of research put into it to make it a believable historical fiction, second, the amazing set up and characterisation, third, the perfect evolution of an enemies to lovers arc, and fourth, just the sheer quality of writing. this is definitely one of THE best ryeji fics on ao3

3. what’s in a name? by snowandwolves

I don’t have a single bad thing to say about this fic. the worldbuilding is absolutely PHENOMENAL, the writing is superb, the angst and ensuing fluff (and smut) WILL make you cry. I have it downloaded so y’all will have to pry it out of my cold, dead hands

4. indigo by khevzs

I cried more than once reading indigo and I am NOT ashamed to admit it. literally the slowest of burns and yet IT’S DONE SO WELL. parent ryeji my loves…..the perfect balance of angst and fluff is 👩‍🍳💋

5. champion of the geunhwayang by khevzs

THE ryeji fic of all time. like cmon. once again, im a sucker for historical fiction and khevzs pulled this off so well!! the setting, the cultural undertones and traditions displayed, like this fic should make the list for just the research put into it alone. would have paid a LOT more attention in school when learning about this time period if it was done in this format. also, the characterisation is just perfect. the transitions into different phases of ryeji’s relationship is so believable and done perfectly. we can only pray khevzs will come back to finish this masterpiece

HONORABLE MENTIONS

made for loving you by gazwashere — actress yeji I will always love you

when she looks at me by snowddeong — I revisit this one so much….RYU FRECKLES

the face poets always talk about by khevzs — yes khevzs is in this list 3 times what about it

unfinished business by ddeongies — choreo my beloved…HOT STUFF WITH (eventual) FLUFF + the perfect amount of friends to strangers/enemies to lovers angst, literal perfection

wheel, snipe, celly by lonewolflink — I cannot wait for link to give us more of hockey ryeji because I am OBSESSED

take a chance on us unfortunately orphaned 😭 — once again, parent ryeji….i love them

믿어 trust by haegum — not for the faint of heart! this fic is on the darker side, but the world building and quality of writing is a 10/10

love in the modern day (the modern way) by westhyo — so hot and so funny! this is just smut but it’s super well written and I love ryeji’s dynamic here and the ending always cracks me up ++we love traumatising chaeryeong in this house

[riongeee]

Hearr me outtt

Sebek (After malleus OB(that ended vry badly)) goes back in time, BUT not at the start of the year. He goes back in time as a child (4-8 y/o).

Like, he regains his memories thru a dream, he wakes up screaming and crying. His family js thinks that he had a nightmare or smth.

Now, he's trying to better himself. He's studying rlly hard (particularly abt overblots), and trys to be nicer to his father.

When he gets into NRC, he expects to get into diasomnia. Instead he's sorted somewhere else,

What dorm do u think he would end up in?? I was thinking ab this for a while,but i cant rlly decide..

Pls bestow upon me your divine wisdom, oh wise one 🙏🙏

Me + dorm swapping Sebek is basically my whole thing now (I am not complaining >:D)

So, assuming this, Sebek has gone through some absolutely traumatising stuff before being stuffed into his child body. Perhaps the reason he went back in time is actually because either he or Malleus die. (Malleus because maybe it caused a huge burst of magic...enough to send Sebek back)

So 6 year old Sebek wakes up absolutely in shambles, he watched his whole life play out and end.

Because of Sebek and his personality, I think he'd blame himself, maybe for not being strong or smart enough to protect Malleus. So he throws himself into studying, improving himself. His parents are worried about him but Sebek just drives himself into the ground studying and training in an endless loop.

Eventually, it gets to the point he is physically and mentally exhausted, maybe Sebeks dad thinks this is a result of the bullying he received for being half fae and just breaks down in front of Sebek. He thinks it's his fault his baby is hurting himself. This leads to Sebek seeing how hurt his family are by Sebeks self destructive behaviour and he breaks down in tears too. In his past life one of his main regrets was how he treated his father so he seeks to remedy it in this life.

He then decides to bring the whole family closer. Although his grandfather wasn't the nicest he still cared for Sebek and Sebek remembered that. When nobody else in his family understood Sebeks personality, Baul understood. So he doesn't want to die and leave his family on strained terms like in the last life.

Atleast if he dies again, they'll have eachother.

So through, some hard work , Sebek brings the family closer, he still has little to no friends, as unlike the last life he has still not been sent to Lillia for training(Sebek dreads seeing Diasomnia again).

When one day Baul asks if Sebek wants to train with a person Baul knows, he almost says yes before hesitating, he had never been as close to them as they were with eachother, so, if in this life he watched from afar..... maybe things would go better? (He ignores the way his hands tremble at the thought of seeing Malleus again, he nearly envisions the sound of tearing flesh before snapping back into reality).

So Sebek continues his efforts, he studies and trains like a man possessed.

When the day comes for his sorting ceremony Sebek doesn't look up until his name is called.

He doesn't look back (perhaps if he did he'd see Lillias anguished face, deapite not knowing the first year he feels as if he does)

So Sebek steps towards the mirror. Knowing.

"Savanaclaw!"

His eyes widen.

>:)

Okay so a few explanations of some of the details.

I'm rolling with the idea that Malleus died while overblotting and the sheer amount of magic reversed time.

Only Sebek fully remembered what happened (for now...) whilst others may feel deja vu or get flashbacks. Which is why Lillia feels something at seeing Sebek despite technically not meeting him. (For max angst potential everyone else slowly regain their memories and start to investigate why Sebek is so different)

Also Savanaclaw because it is the dorm of persistence and Sebek is persistent on improving and avoiding the outcome he saw. (Could also work with other dorms but I think Savanaclaw or Pomefiore are best for this).

Might expand on this but idk

[lilacstarryskies]

ive somehow gotten into marauders tiktok a lil…. and OMG some ppl r acc delusional and lowk mean for telling straight up lies to new fans….

like somebody asked what were regulus’ last words and a heavily-liked comment replies “oh its about him and james having a house by the sea” and then said its in the books…. TFFFF

regulus is only mentioned like 3 times i think…. by sirius, by professor slughorn maybe?? and then the moment the golden trio discover who R.A.B is and thats FINE and also ppl shipping jegulus is fine but the lies r not like at what point would be ever discover his last words or wanting a house w james when both of them are DEAD and havent written a letter mentioning it or anything😭😭

and like another post i saw this morning was about luna/barty having an interesting dynamic and the comments were like “oh its becuz he was besties with her uncle evan rosier” and i get thats the fanon but when somebody replies and asks if this is true in the books pls dont say “oh yes lunas mum was a rosier who loved barty jr and thats why he cared for luna”

it simply just NEVER existed 💀💀

im all for creating hcs and stuff cos thats what fandom is about but like having things so wildly out of canon (or plausible but not mentioned) just becoming generally agreed upon kills me becuz now there is no possibility of finding fics which go thru different routes (like pandora lovegood being originally a fortescue, ollivander or malfoy etc)…..

……or just follow canon (like with remus lupins whole characterisation! he’s not some soft uwu boy…. but he isnt some emo punk friends with slytherins…. hes a kind but cowardly guy who wasn’t naturally smart but became studious and who has some anger issues which occasionally pop out‼️)

(also like i remember before atyd got big and i cant imagine how ppl who r ogs in the fandom feel now…. like ive liked it as a kid but only got into the fandom like 2018-ish)

(and i didnt read atyd at first when it got big becuz of how they made remus be in an orphanage when i loved the idea of him having super loving but guilty parents esp cos his dad was an anti-wolf activist but him growing to love wolves but feeling ashamed for how his bigotry resulted in his son’s issue would be SO interesting….. and then it goes even more canon-divergent with the personality lobotomy of remus and then i gave up on both it AND the fandom becuz then everything kinda replicated it with the changing characterisation of the marauders 😭😭)

ALSO ALSO like the whole hatred of dumbledore goes way too far sometimes and it lowkey just takes me back to how pissed the aot, fmab and mha fandom would make characters like grisha jaeger, hohenheim and all might…. like they do have their issues but they aren’t some abusive assholes and i get making ooc fanfics cos do whatever but the sheer amount of fics making them that would kill me. and like grindeldore angst and the tragicness of dumbledores plot is so interesting to me

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

What WOF Dragon do I think each of The Chain would be:

Why am i doing this? Idk because i can. And I want to. So yea :D

Wind: Many might say seawing. I actually think He'd be a Rainwing. It just strikes me as right and could tie into Winds expressiveness. Also I can totally see Him being a little sneak with trying to figure out camouflage. The Sun naps just seem like something Wind would enjoy to. The more I Think about it the more I feel Rainwing fits. In genaral the idea of a rainwing group that has figured out sailing pleases me immensely.

Warriors: An Icewing/Sandwing Hybrid. The combo seems very fitting for him. Designwise and also a good setup for his backstory. Blame my recent reading of Wars angst but Putting him in the situation of dealing with Icewing nobility while being a hybrid just seems the perfect recipe for delicious angst soup. Not sure if he'd have the Poison barb or if he did if it would even have any poisoning capabilities. I do think i'd be a no on the ice breath tho.

Wild: To be honest this is a hard one for me. he could be several different tribes or hybrids. Though I think I'm going to say Silkwing actually. He'd have a prosthetic wing he uses. I also find the idea of some dragins haveing the sort of Sterotypical idea of silkwings as sort of passive and then there's just Wild. Who may of may not be some sort of insane and definitely not passive in any way. I just think it would be fun. He would have regular silk he'd use to build stuff.

Hyrule: He'd be an Animus I think. Hivewing with Both some leafwing and Silkwing ancestry. In general a pretty mixed dragon. Rulie Would probably be pretty careful with his magic use. Not wanting to lose himself too it. The idea he is a danger might tie into being hesitant to refer to himself as a hero. Maybe felt like he cheated a bit when he use some of his spells. has hidden levels of pure SASS just waiting to be unleashed. Legend Will gladly help with that. Legend: Also a mixed dragon. (a Trait shared between a lot of Downfall timeline dragons maybe) Mostly Seawing and Skywing. Has some Rainwing Blood that flares up every once in awhile and only succeeds in turning him bright pink. Literally the only color he can do. Used to be a lot more prominent when he was younger tho. Hyrule thought he was an Animus too at first but it turns out Legend just has a knack for finding an absurd amount of Animus enchanted stuff.

Twilight: Mudwing (distant nightwing ancestry via Time). I love the idea of Bigwings Twilight. It FITS. Dunno exactly what would have happened to his sibling group. Somehow ended up In the Dragon Version of Ordon and grew up there. He assigns himself as the Chain's bigwings.

Four: Really didn't want to do a rainwing for four just because of the colors thing. The tribe I just feel doesn't fit his personality or anything. Also I want a tribe that could breathe fire. So I think I'm going to say Sandwing. (Who is of course a blacksmith) I'm actually not entirely sure why this feels like it fits. It just does tbh.

Time: Nightwing. The Sheer hilarity of Time having beef with the moon(s) as a Nightwing, priceless. Also he would thrive being all mysterious and cryptic combined with the myticality of the Nightwings. Grew up in a Leafwing Village tho (somehow). Has barely actually spent any time around other Nightwings. Malon would be a Fire proof Mudwing I think. Just because. I like her.

Sky: I was going to say fireless Skywing. then I realized the only Fireless Skwing in the WOF books is also called Sky. So guess not. :p I With Skyward sword supposed to be the beginning of the Zelda timeline I think he'd be a candidate for a Beetlewing. That would be interesting actually.

[mostlyihyperfixate]

WrightWorth Fic Recs II: Legal Boogaloo

I've had some upper respiratory goop for eleven days and I woke up with a pounding migraine, so it's time for this month's fic recs while I wait for my medication to kick in!

I'm sure most of you guys have already read this stuff, so I'm not, like, doing this because I think I'm gonna introduce anything special. I just like to gush a lil' about stuff that makes me happy.

As always, feel free to offer me recs yourself in some capacity!

The Things We Agree to Believe are True by actual_goblin

Rating: Teen Content Warning for amnesia, angst, blood, and implied/referenced suicide Status: Finished

Recommended to me by @starsarestaringatyou.

Someone really said, "Well, if one character with amnesia is good, what if they both had amnesia?" And I love every minute of it. I sat down and read this entire thing in one fell swoop. I could not stop. It's weird, but completely internally consistent, so everything is very easy to follow. I've lost track of the number of times I've reread this. I'm afraid if I say more, I'll spoil things. It's very, very sweet, and if amnesia fics interest you even a little, I highly recommend this one!

This man is not your boyfriend by its_ok_inside

Rating: Teen Content Warning for amnesia Status: Finished

Also recommended to me by @starsarestaringatyou.

A very cute amnesia one shot. This one is a bit unusual in that there's no angst! So if that's what keeps you from this sort of story, I recommend this one. There's just a bit of pining on Miles' end, and the rest is two bros chillin' in a legal office one foot apart because they're definitely gay. It's very fluffy, and I reread this one a lot, too, when I want a quick hit of cuteness.

Legal Partners by Miggy

Rating: Teen Content Warning for miscommunication Status: Finished

This one is a little rom-com-esque, but the characters themselves (especially Ema) are well aware of that. This is the story that first allowed me to think of Klavier as having some depth. It is the level I hold all semi-seriously written Klaviers to now. There's a little bit of Klavier/Ema and Klavier/Apollo in here (both ships I like, and I hardly ever get to see the former), but ultimately Klavier ends up with something he needs more than a romantic relationship, and I love this fic for that. Everybody gets enough attention that their inclusion in the story doesn't feel obligatory. There's also the added bonus of a well-written case for Apollo and Klavier to handle throughout the story!

It Would Feel So Good To Make You Mine by hi_its_ellis and lowbatteryhealth

Rating: Teen Status: Finished

Just randomly picked something from my list last Saturday and wound up reading this throughout the day. Reread it again sometime this week. It's cute. There's established Fran/Maya and Athena/Junie as well, if you're into either of those ships. Words cannot express how wonderfully adorable this entire thing is. If you want something that's got enough conflict to keep you reading without there being any real upsetting tension or angst at all, this for you. There's no big miscommunication; just Miles and Phoenix driving everyone around them crazy with their unique brand of stubborn idiocy.

How to Court A Fool in Under Three Months by snowyrunes

Rating: Teen Content Warning for miscommunication Status: Finished

Pure, 100% rom-com goodness. This has everything you would expect out of a rom-com movie, and it's written spectacularly well. There's some established background Fran/Maya. I love seeing Fran successfully interact with kiddos, so her relationship with Trucy in this especially makes me happy--not to mention I prefer my Frans to like Phoenix in some capacity, and that's here, too. I admit that I haven't been able to get very far into the (unfinished) sequel due to the sheer amount of second-hand embarrassment I feel, but I highly recommend the first story for sure!

Pride & Prejudice & Turnabout by paintedkneecaps

Rating: Teen Status: In Progress Content Warning for Pride and Prejudice AU

On the sliding scale of cynical to sunshine Phoenix, this is firmly at the sunshine end. If you are very, very particular about how people work with Pride and Prejudice and that time period (like, to the point where you can't stand the Kiera Knightly movie, for example), this is not going to be the story for you. It's, as the author puts it, a "vibes only" AU, which I think is really a strength in this case. I've read too many "AU"s that are just slapping Ace Attorney characters names over the originals. This has a lot of thought put into the characters, and the quotes from the original work feel like friendly little winks instead of being awkwardly shoved in. I look forward to every Thursday when I get another dose of this!

[teecupangel]

Hey tee want to hear an absolutely horrific Desmond idea that just popped in my head? Of course you do.

(tw though for a bunch of stuff about dead bodies so if that's a squick you can delete this message without reading the rest.)

At one point in The Hollows book series, the protagonist encounters a high-power magic entity that can possess the recently dead in order to communicate directly with mortals.

What if a Desmond whose body is destroyed by the aurora device and he ends up adrift in the Grey for an unknowable amount of time

until he gravitates, without meaning to, to points in his ancestral history where there is a suitable vessel for him to inhabit?

The rules surrounding this:

1) The vessel he occupies must be recently deceased, within about two hours.

2) How long he can stay in a body is affected by how complex the life form is. Humans are the longest at 12hrs.

3) The time limit is expressed by the body slowly turning to ash and dust, until it reaches a critical point and can no longer hold itself together, at which point it basically disintegrates.

4) Those with Eagle Vision inherently know on looking at a body occupied by Desmond that it is Desmond. If he is occupying a human body, he will seem to them to resemble what he looked like when he was alive.

//

more assorted thoughts:

Desmond isn't limited to a linear timeline. He gets drawn back to the Grey every time his body dissolves, from which theoretically any point in time can be accessed.

I like the idea though that at least at first, he doesn't have control over where he goes. In addition to trying to figure out how this whole thing works, he's just popping up in the most random/useless of times.

He can visit any time and place he has an ancestral connection to, whether or not he unlocked those memories while he was still alive. There just needs to be a suitable vessel nearby. And, well. Pretty much every assassin ancestor has plenty of opportunity for that.

Also, jumping off rule 3 above, Desmond isn't like...so him needing to possess a vessel is basically like, needing to anchor himself to something Present. And what he's anchoring to isn't even the body exactly, it's the memory of life. Which is why more complex things anchor him longer, they have a more substantial memory of life/concept of self/their existence.

So as he's burning through the body, he's holding it together through his own force of will more and more, until the memory is burnt out and will alone isn't enough.

An interesting effect then is that the body's death blows don't affect what he's able to do in it, but lifelong conditions do, when he first possesses it. If a person's eyes were gouged out to kill them, Desmond can still see in the body, because the memory of life still remembers having eyes, even though the physical eyes are ruined. But if Desmond possessed someone who had been blind for years, he wouldn't be able to see, because the memory of life doesn't conceptualize itself as a seeing being. As the memory faded and it became more about Desmond holding himself together, he'd regain some of his sight.

Funny enough, this means that while non-human bodies tend to be of limited usefulness, there is a period toward the end of the possession where he can speak and communicate with people, even if he's like. A mouse. Because at the very end it's more his concept of self establishing what the body can do than the mouse's.

.

For real though just imagine with me how freaked out his ancestors would be when some of their kills randomly sit back up and start talking. Like. You never know when or where Zombie Desmond will appear, but it will probably be at the least convenient of times and everyone will scream.

I love this idea because of the sheer angst potential.

Like, sure, we can go down the horror comedy route and I’m all for it since I love that genre.

But just imagine Desmond possessing one of the Auditore’s bodies while Ezio was trying to bury them. Ezio’s horrified outrage at the idea that some kind of entity was possessing his younger brother. Desmond didn’t mean to possess Petruccio’s body, he still can’t control this, Ezio- “Shut up!”

It’s definitely the worst kind of first meeting.

And Desmond doesn’t know if this was worse or better than his first meeting with Altaïr.

Because with Altaïr, Desmond screwed up so badly by possessing Adha’s dead body, giving Altaïr a false sense of hope that he wasn’t too late.

Unlike Ezio’s grief and rage, the way Altaïr’s face completely shut down was much more worrying to Desmond because he has no idea what that silence was supposed to mean.

Even when Desmond apologizes and promises that he didn’t mean to, Altaïr simply ignored all of these and just asked Desmond what he was and what he wanted.

The worst part of this entire thing is that Desmond doesn’t even know what he wanted.

And then there was Ratonhnhaké:ton.

Desmond didn’t even know if Ratonhnhaké:ton hated him or not.

Because the first time Desmond possessed someone in Ratonhnhaké:ton’s time, he was getting the hang of all of these.

And he was able to save Kaniehtí:io, sure.

By possessing a child who had recently died. A child that Ratonhnhaké:ton knew by name. He had probably been playing with that child a few hours ago before Desmond possessed their corpse.

… and Desmond spent weeks in that body with only Ratonhnhaké:ton knowing that he wasn’t his friend.

Ratonhnhaké:ton probably didn’t trust him.

But hey…

At least he didn’t possessed Kaniehtí:io or something.

That would have been so awkward.

The new problem Desmond had was that…

Well…

He just possessed some naked dude in the middle of some sort of island.

“Jeezus!”

And he has no idea who this dark blond haired man that smelled of salt and rum was supposed to be.

But from the looks of things…

He was wearing what may or may not be Assassin robes belonging to the dead body he was now occupying.