fionajames

[fionajames]

@avianii

Iceman: So uhh.... Maverick.

Slider: Maverick?

Iceman, nodding: Maverick.

Ice:

Slider:

Ice: Thoughts?

Slider: And prayers, you're gonna need em brother.

[fionajames]

@avianii

i feel like we as a society don’t talk about this enough

[fionajames]

Y'all are amazing. Reblog to hug the person you’re reblogging from.

[fionajames]

so I’m back

So I got the book that I ordered 3 months ago by GRET LUSKY (a god in herself) and it’s so pretty. Above is my version on belows image.

[fionajames]

so I’m back

So I got the book that I ordered 3 months ago by GRET LUSKY (a god in herself) and it’s so pretty. Above is my version on belows image.

[fionajames]

anzac day -> lest we forget

I would like you to do me a favor, and try to picture a scene in your head. Attempt to picture a land of mud and heat, blistering your skin as you merely stand. Head to toe in thick uniform, you and your troops stand in preparation for the landing. Imagine the moment you receive the order, sent to run over those muddy hills, bullets flying your way as they seek to kill.

This is what the landing of Gallipoli felt like for the 16,000 ANZACS on the 25th of April, 1915. The conditions of Gallipoli of course grew worse over the time of the campaign, with the heat or cold, disease, unsanitary conditions, terrible food and of course, the daily deaths of fellow soldiers taking its toll.

I figure I ought to explain what ANZAC means before anything else. ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and was the title given to the armed forces who fought in the Gallipoli campaign during World War 1.

ANZAC Day is held on the 25th of April, the same day the ANZACS landed in Gallipoli that fateful morning. 2,000 soldiers were killed or wounded upon the first day, and those who weren’t killed were left weak. 

The Gallipoli campaign lasted until the eighth of January, 1916. A total of 8,159 ANZAC troops lost their lives. As sick as it sounds, the death toll isn’t very high. Gallipoli was important for many reasons, including that it was the first major amphibious assault in modern warfare. But it’s also so important because it was seen as a failure, and yet the troops kept going. The soldiers were seen as the bravest of them all.

ANZAC Day is held all over Australia and New Zealand, ceremonies and marching alike to remember the fallen and the serving. We do many things to commemorate the soldiers fallen and alive, some being the Dawn Service and the other numerous marching and ceremonies of course.

Another thing about ANZAC Day are the flowers. Most notable of these are poppies, famous among Australians and New Zealanders for ANZAC Day. Poppies were among the first flowers to grow back on the Gallipoli front, and ever since then they have been a symbol of hope and remembrance for the ANZACs. Another is rosemary, which means fidelity and remembrance. Many people will be wearing poppies and rosemary on ANZAC Day, a sign of their remembrance to the fallen and those who served. 

This is a poem by John McCrae called 'In Flanders Fields'.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

Something that happens here is we play a song called ‘The Last Post’, which is then followed by a minute of silence. During this minute of silence, we remember the fallen, dead, wounded and survived. 

It would be a great favor to me if you could reblog this, no matter if you're Australian or New Zealand. No matter where you're from. ANZAC Day is about remembering war, the fallen and the survived.

Lest we forget.

[fionajames]

anzac day -> lest we forget

I would like you to do me a favor, and try to picture a scene in your head. Attempt to picture a land of mud and heat, blistering your skin as you merely stand. Head to toe in thick uniform, you and your troops stand in preparation for the landing. Imagine the moment you receive the order, sent to run over those muddy hills, bullets flying your way as they seek to kill.

This is what the landing of Gallipoli felt like for the 16,000 ANZACS on the 25th of April, 1915. The conditions of Gallipoli of course grew worse over the time of the campaign, with the heat or cold, disease, unsanitary conditions, terrible food and of course, the daily deaths of fellow soldiers taking its toll.

I figure I ought to explain what ANZAC means before anything else. ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and was the title given to the armed forces who fought in the Gallipoli campaign during World War 1.

ANZAC Day is held on the 25th of April, the same day the ANZACS landed in Gallipoli that fateful morning. 2,000 soldiers were killed or wounded upon the first day, and those who weren’t killed were left weak. 

The Gallipoli campaign lasted until the eighth of January, 1916. A total of 8,159 ANZAC troops lost their lives. As sick as it sounds, the death toll isn’t very high. Gallipoli was important for many reasons, including that it was the first major amphibious assault in modern warfare. But it’s also so important because it was seen as a failure, and yet the troops kept going. The soldiers were seen as the bravest of them all.

ANZAC Day is held all over Australia and New Zealand, ceremonies and marching alike to remember the fallen and the serving. We do many things to commemorate the soldiers fallen and alive, some being the Dawn Service and the other numerous marching and ceremonies of course.

Another thing about ANZAC Day are the flowers. Most notable of these are poppies, famous among Australians and New Zealanders for ANZAC Day. Poppies were among the first flowers to grow back on the Gallipoli front, and ever since then they have been a symbol of hope and remembrance for the ANZACs. Another is rosemary, which means fidelity and remembrance. Many people will be wearing poppies and rosemary on ANZAC Day, a sign of their remembrance to the fallen and those who served. 

This is a poem by John McCrae called 'In Flanders Fields'.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

Something that happens here is we play a song called ‘The Last Post’, which is then followed by a minute of silence. During this minute of silence, we remember the fallen, dead, wounded and survived. 

It would be a great favor to me if you could reblog this, no matter if you're Australian or New Zealand. No matter where you're from. ANZAC Day is about remembering war, the fallen and the survived.

Lest we forget.

[fionajames]

@techs-goggles9902

anzac day -> lest we forget

I would like you to do me a favor, and try to picture a scene in your head. Attempt to picture a land of mud and heat, blistering your skin as you merely stand. Head to toe in thick uniform, you and your troops stand in preparation for the landing. Imagine the moment you receive the order, sent to run over those muddy hills, bullets flying your way as they seek to kill.

This is what the landing of Gallipoli felt like for the 16,000 ANZACS on the 25th of April, 1915. The conditions of Gallipoli of course grew worse over the time of the campaign, with the heat or cold, disease, unsanitary conditions, terrible food and of course, the daily deaths of fellow soldiers taking its toll.

I figure I ought to explain what ANZAC means before anything else. ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and was the title given to the armed forces who fought in the Gallipoli campaign during World War 1.

ANZAC Day is held on the 25th of April, the same day the ANZACS landed in Gallipoli that fateful morning. 2,000 soldiers were killed or wounded upon the first day, and those who weren’t killed were left weak. 

The Gallipoli campaign lasted until the eighth of January, 1916. A total of 8,159 ANZAC troops lost their lives. As sick as it sounds, the death toll isn’t very high. Gallipoli was important for many reasons, including that it was the first major amphibious assault in modern warfare. But it’s also so important because it was seen as a failure, and yet the troops kept going. The soldiers were seen as the bravest of them all.

ANZAC Day is held all over Australia and New Zealand, ceremonies and marching alike to remember the fallen and the serving. We do many things to commemorate the soldiers fallen and alive, some being the Dawn Service and the other numerous marching and ceremonies of course.

Another thing about ANZAC Day are the flowers. Most notable of these are poppies, famous among Australians and New Zealanders for ANZAC Day. Poppies were among the first flowers to grow back on the Gallipoli front, and ever since then they have been a symbol of hope and remembrance for the ANZACs. Another is rosemary, which means fidelity and remembrance. Many people will be wearing poppies and rosemary on ANZAC Day, a sign of their remembrance to the fallen and those who served. 

This is a poem by John McCrae called 'In Flanders Fields'.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

Something that happens here is we play a song called ‘The Last Post’, which is then followed by a minute of silence. During this minute of silence, we remember the fallen, dead, wounded and survived. 

It would be a great favor to me if you could reblog this, no matter if you're Australian or New Zealand. No matter where you're from. ANZAC Day is about remembering war, the fallen and the survived.

Lest we forget.

[fionajames]

anzac day -> lest we forget

I would like you to do me a favor, and try to picture a scene in your head. Attempt to picture a land of mud and heat, blistering your skin as you merely stand. Head to toe in thick uniform, you and your troops stand in preparation for the landing. Imagine the moment you receive the order, sent to run over those muddy hills, bullets flying your way as they seek to kill.

This is what the landing of Gallipoli felt like for the 16,000 ANZACS on the 25th of April, 1915. The conditions of Gallipoli of course grew worse over the time of the campaign, with the heat or cold, disease, unsanitary conditions, terrible food and of course, the daily deaths of fellow soldiers taking its toll.

I figure I ought to explain what ANZAC means before anything else. ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps, and was the title given to the armed forces who fought in the Gallipoli campaign during World War 1.

ANZAC Day is held on the 25th of April, the same day the ANZACS landed in Gallipoli that fateful morning. 2,000 soldiers were killed or wounded upon the first day, and those who weren’t killed were left weak. 

The Gallipoli campaign lasted until the eighth of January, 1916. A total of 8,159 ANZAC troops lost their lives. As sick as it sounds, the death toll isn’t very high. Gallipoli was important for many reasons, including that it was the first major amphibious assault in modern warfare. But it’s also so important because it was seen as a failure, and yet the troops kept going. The soldiers were seen as the bravest of them all.

ANZAC Day is held all over Australia and New Zealand, ceremonies and marching alike to remember the fallen and the serving. We do many things to commemorate the soldiers fallen and alive, some being the Dawn Service and the other numerous marching and ceremonies of course.

Another thing about ANZAC Day are the flowers. Most notable of these are poppies, famous among Australians and New Zealanders for ANZAC Day. Poppies were among the first flowers to grow back on the Gallipoli front, and ever since then they have been a symbol of hope and remembrance for the ANZACs. Another is rosemary, which means fidelity and remembrance. Many people will be wearing poppies and rosemary on ANZAC Day, a sign of their remembrance to the fallen and those who served. 

This is a poem by John McCrae called 'In Flanders Fields'.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

    That mark our place; and in the sky

    The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

    Loved and were loved, and now we lie,

        In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

    The torch; be yours to hold it high.

    If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

        In Flanders fields.

Something that happens here is we play a song called ‘The Last Post’, which is then followed by a minute of silence. During this minute of silence, we remember the fallen, dead, wounded and survived. 

It would be a great favor to me if you could reblog this, no matter if you're Australian or New Zealand. No matter where you're from. ANZAC Day is about remembering war, the fallen and the survived.

Lest we forget.

#australia #new zealand #anzac #anzac day #poppies #rosemary #lest we forget #australian and new zealand army corps #gallipoli #gallipoli campaign #aussie #the last post #Spotify

[fionajames]

guys I still can't believe that top gun was literally such a gay movie and val kilmer literally said his first gay role was top gun and apparently hangster is shopped by both the hangster actors like WHAT I thought that shit only happened in like fucken good omens

[fionajames]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KA’RAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

ILYSMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(How do you add pictures to this-)

AWW TYSM ILYSM

(click the little red images button when you click enter/return or whatever)

[fionajames]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KA’RAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

ILYSMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(How do you add pictures to this-)

AWW TYSM ILYSM

(click the little red images button when you click enter/return or whatever)

[fionajames]

[fionajames]

Clone Types

Each clone specialty is pretty much pre-determined from decanting. The bad batch doesn't apply

Troopers that use heavy weaponry like Hardcase and Thorn are 'heavy' class troopers, built stronger and have more muscle (think like football (american) players, they've got some meat on them). THey are the standard 6' 0".

Snipers like Longshot are called 'sleek' class troopers, built slim and trim, and two inches shorter at 5' 10. ARF troopers, 'scouts', are very similar only an inch shorter.

The Scuba troopers, 'scubas', are more lean and built for endurance. They are the standard 6' 0".

Heavy weapon troopers, 'gunners', are built very similar to 'heavy' class troopers, though at a height of 6' 2". However, their ears are modified to be more resistant to the loud noises of their cannons. Basically, they are born a little hard of hearing. Also, they do not have the same workout regime as the 'heavy' class to be more weighty so their bodies can absorb some of the shock; like rugby players, they've got a little fat on them.

Alpha class troopers were built with strength, stamina, endurance, and speed on max and at a height of 6' 4".

Flametroopers, 'burners', are also similar to 'heavy' troopers, with only an extra inch and more endurance. They are also modified to have thicker and tougher skin to combat the heat and burns.

Commandos are more built like ARCs, though capping out at 6' 3" and their stats turned to 75% rather than 100%.

The CCs are built just below Commandos, but receive more specialized and intense training compared to the Commandos.

[fionajames]

ok but? little goose sticker

i wanna make the whole group into little animals (i can not draw humans)

any suggestions for animals for the others? im thinking (least) weasel for mav tbh

[fionajames]

Mav and goose

betrayal.

[fionajames]

ITS SUPPOSED TO BE CONFUSING TBH THANK YOU SO MUCH

I HOPE IT GIVES OFF CREEPY VIBES

the attack

A/N: WHAT IS UP FOLKS ITS ME, JAMIE, FINALLY MY FIRST PIECE OF WRITING AFTER A MONTH. This is about my oc 'Tears' (who y'all haven't met yet), from the 323rd, owned by @youeverjustmarryabountyhunter containing many other good friends of mine. In particular, you can all blame this angst on Sam (the owner), who caused this. I can not remember why but everyone blame him.

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

“So, Tears, what’s been bothering you?”

A gust of wind blew against his face as the doors to the base closed, shutting them inside with the cold. He shuddered at the cold, grasping his helmet in his hands like a lifeline. He pulled it over his head in a hurry, seeking sanctuary behind the cold plastoid visor. 

“CT-4044,” a voice called loudly, and he turned quickly. Eyes boat into his soul, chilling him colder than the snowstorm outside could ever. “Perimeter check.” The commanding officer gave him no more words, but he didn’t need to. Words from him were sharper than the devil’s horns.

“Yes sir,” he saluted obediently, shaking his limbs out subtly and marching off. He knew what to do, and so he grabbed his blaster from his holster and began the trek through the base. Perimeter checks were buried deep into his mind, drilled in tighter than a screw. They were quick and easy, if you were efficient enough.

“The past, sir.”

His footsteps echoed through the corridor, robotically thudding as they fell on the metal floor. The corridors all looked the same, suffocating silver metal and panels of buttons. He continued to walk, keeping to the left and following his internal map of the base. He didn’t flinch when other troopers went by.

The deeper into the labyrinth he got, the louder the silence grew. Less troopers passed by, and the dark cold seemed to latch onto him like a leech. But he didn’t falter for a second, biting the skin underneath his lip as he went, eyes fixed directly ahead.

When one of the doors to his right opened, he turned quickly, confused by the sudden sign of life in the empty labyrinth. A shadow passed by the doorway, and then the door promptly closed. A shudder of fear ran through his body.

“And what happened in your past to haunt you now?”

He turned the safety off of his blaster, shuffling closer to the door. Gripping his weapon in his hands he pushed the button to open the door, leaping to the side quickly and pouting the barrel of his blaster at the doorway. Nothing moved, no sign of life. 

He momentarily wondered on the possibility of a mirror in the room and a faulty door. Perhaps he’d seen himself in the reflection, and it just happened to be that the door opened as he passed. Yet, he knew that wasn’t possible, as the figure he’d seen had run. There was someone in the room.

Creeping closer, he tried to suppress the shaking state of his fingers, biting down on his cheek and steadying himself. The dark spilling from the room ahead was calling to him, but instead of it being a friendly call, it was like the devil beckoning him. Poison dripped from the room, interwoven in the dark.

“There was an attack, sir.”

He didn't get to linger for a moment longer when a figure darted from the dark. He didn’t even get to analyse the appearance of his enemy, only catching a glimpse of a long brown cloak as he pulled the trigger. But his opponent was nimble and dodged the blasts, bearing him as he backed up.

Adrenaline shot through him as he leaped to the side and fired a shot directly at what he presumed to be the creature’s head. The blast shot through the air and collided with the creature, knocking the breath from his lungs. A roar ripped from the creature’s throat and he shuddered, bile rising in his throat.

“They’re coming,” a hoarse whisper broke through the thick silence, snagging his attention. “They’re coming and you can not stop them.” A million questions burned on his tongue as the creature let out a raspy sigh before collapsing against the metal.

“And what happened to you during the attack?”

He bent over and lifted the hood from the creature’s head, horror running through him like water. It was a humanoid creature, covered in thick black fur. Its eyes - still open, wide and haunting - we’re pure white, almost glowing. It had two horns on the top of its head, short yet sharp black. It looked like the devil, the devil as he would have pictured it.

As he pulled away, the creature’s last words rang in his eyes. He stood in the hallway, next to the creature’s corpse, as the lights began to flicker. Once, twice, thrice, and then they sizzled out. The dark surrounded him like a sea, grasping at his throat and suffocating him.

A howl rang through the corridor, coming from the direction he had been previously walking. He stumbled back as dozens of howls echoed the first, footfalls growing increasingly louder and closer. Then, he saw the eyes. Dozens of sets of pure white eyes, bobbing up and down as the creatures raced towards him.

“I was attacked.”

A scream caught in his throat as he turned, breaking into a run. Adrenaline, horror and fear coursed through his veins as he sprinted from the wave of creatures. His right hand grasped desperately at his left, activating his comm as his feet hit the floor over and over and over.

“Code red, I repeat, code red!” He called out desperately, rounding a corner as his heart leaped. “Creatures have infiltrated the base, I repeat, the base is compromised!” The howls from behind him grew louder as the creatures barrelled towards him, and he took a sharp left.

His comm beeped and he slammed his hand on it, accepting the incoming call frantically. “CT-4044, you claim there is a Code red within the base. Is this statement true?” Anger surged through him, clawing at the insides of his throat as he threw a glance behind him. The creatures were nearing.

“And what else happened?”

Another loud howl cut through the air and he flinched. “Yes! Yes, it's fucking true! There are creatures in the bae, violent, bloodthirsty creatures!” He shouted into his comm, fear and rage fueling his steps as he rounded another corner. He wasn’t sure how long he could keep running.

“CT-4044, I’m going to need confirmation that this is a Code red,” the dark voice of the commanding officer demanded coldly, and rage surged through him like a burning fire. A flame ignited in the pit of his stomach, smoke and fire engulfing him in a blaze of hatred.

“Sir, this is a fucking Code red, if you do not believe me, then it is your life on the line!” He howled into the comm, slamming down on the button and ending the call. His paces were growing inconsistent and weak, his body wrung with pain.

“I don’t know what you're talking about.”

His eyes darted around frantically, desperate for some place to hide or escape to. The walls surrounded him, cold metal becoming all he could see. The empty wall, no doors near, only increased his panic. It rocked through his body like a tsunami of waves, crashing and colliding around in his stomach. He felt like a sailor, lost at sea, being torn about by the waves and storm.

The roars echoing through the corridor burned his ears, like they were pouring boiling water into his skull. He resisted the urge to instinctively shelter his ears, blood roaring in his skull as tears unwillingly grew in his eyes. The salty water threatened to overflow, pain shooting through his body over and over as the sound grew only louder.

Another corner rounded, but unlike the rest, he saw a figure. Standing by the mechanical box connected to the wall was a civilian mechanic, and a roar ripped from his throat as he desperately pleaded for their attention. The mechanic turned, her eyes widening and her jaw falling slack as a scream fell from her lips. She turned to flee, dropping her tool box. 

“You know exactly what I mean.”

It all happened so fast. The mechanic tripped, stumbling in her feeble fleeing attempt. He reached out a hand to her, even though he was too far away. He watched as her head slammed into the metal floor, a bone rattling thud ringing through the corridor. He barely had time to register the fact that she was on the floor, petrified and bleeding as he tore past.

He’d meant to grab her, to turn around and drag her to her feet, but instead his feet carried him just a few more steps. A few more steps that made it too late to turn back, but he did anyway. He turned around, just in time to see the beasts bolt around the corner, slamming their sides into the metal walls as they scurried towards him.

Just in time to see one of the creatures reach out its four long claws and grasp the mechanic’s leg, dragging her into the pack of beasts. A howl somehow even louder than the ones the creatures were emitting sliced through the air, before being cut off at the high. He caught a glimpse of the creatures barrelling into one another as they tore the girl limb from limb, blood staining their dark fur like wine.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

He must have let out a scream, because all of a sudden the dozens of eyes were back on him, and not on the ruined and discarded corpse. One of the creatures - blood dripping from its mouth like a fairytale monster, although this was no fairytale - launched itself towards him, its claws raking along the metal wall. The sound sent shudders through his skull, but he barely acknowledged them as the claws broke open the box the mechanic had been working on.

The lights fizzled out around him, plunging him into the dark yet again. This time he was already running, tears streaming down his face as his mouth flooded with a metallic taste, his senses blurring and blaring with panic. His feet hit the floor over and over and over, inaudible underneath the waves of roars and howls.

The image flashed through his brain again, the mechanic, blooded and mutilated, skin ripped from skin, bone from bone, limb from limb. Blood pooling and puddling around her, redder than the reddest wine or button, redder than red. The last thing he’d seen before that sense was ripped from him was her body in more pieces than he could count.

“But do you believe that?”

He didn’t have time to think about where he was in the base, about possible escape routes. He was focused on solely getting further and further away from the beasts, instinct running hard in his veins. The roaring and howling had numbed into white noise humming in his ears, and he could feel a drop of blood spilling over the shell of his ear. Hopefully that wouldn’t do lasting damage, if he even made it out of this nightmare.

The next corner he turned sparked a sense of familiarity in his numbed body, burning in his joints with adrenaline. He slammed his palm down on the panel, pressing the button so desperately that it sent a wave of pain through his arm. As the metal door began to open, he slipped through the thin gap and onto the other side, where his hand fumbled for the button to close it.

When his fingers retracted from the button after pressing it, he stood and stared at the door, shuddering with fear as it closed painfully slowly. As the gap grew increasingly smaller, the panic began to ebb away to relief. But he didn’t get to achieve full relief, as a long silver claw slipped through the gap and grasped onto the doorway. 

“It wasn’t my fault.”

He didn’t have a moment to react before the door was thrown open, one of the huge beasts standing in the metal framing, blood dripping to the floor in the dark as its eyes lit up his face. He turned as fast as he could, leaping away from the onslaught of monsters as the bay erupted with screams. He ran to the nearest shelter, sliding behind a bundle of boxes as the beasts flooded the room.

Screams and howls echoed through the room, but the blasts sliced through it like a knife, cutting away at the creatures and their terror. But for every blast were two screams, screams of pure agony as they were destroyed just like the mechanic, left mutilated and abandoned on the metal floor. The creatures were taking bites of their skin, swallowing but not eating anymore of the Clones. A thought rang through his head of why they were massacring them if not for food.

One of the creatures with horns tall and spiky like antlers barrelled past him, and he caught a glimpse of a shiny being split in half, leaving only blood and his lower torso behind. Bile rose in his throat, but the adrenaline pushed it back. Ducking out of the way of another hurrying beast, he scrambled to crawl along the floor in search of an external comm.

“It’s okay, I understand. Do you blame yourself?”

He managed to pull himself to his feet, desperate in his search as his heart thumped repeatedly in his chest. The screams rushing his ears felt like blades dragged along his soul in search of blood, but there was nothing he could do to suppress the attacks. Another scream, another cut, another howl, another scream, another cut. On and on and on.

The comm deck felt so far away, and even though he knew he would never make it, his desperation kept him going. Suddenly, a scream rang through the bay, closer than he’d been expecting. Although it sounded no different to the rest of the cacophony, its proximity startled him into spinning. Shock hummed through his body as he spotted a beast no less than ten metres away, grasping a familiar figure by the throat.

The Commander wreathed futilely, screams spilling his lips. He remembered how the Commander had denied him any help, how he’d remained un-listening. He watched as the beast tightened its grip on his Commanding Officer, ending his life with a broken scream. Another scream, but no cut. The cold wave that flooded his heart was nauseating, and for a moment, he wished that he hadn’t felt it. And then he was running again.

“It was my fault. I blame myself, of course I do! Because it was my fault!”

The more he ran, the more tiredness bore down on him, and he was so tired. Every step sent pain through his limbs, flooding his body in an assault of agony. But he kept running, for the thought of ending up mutilated and abandoned on the floor hung in his mind. Another step, another scream, another cut. Another step, another scream, another cut. He was littered with cuts.

It happened so fast, just like the mechanic’s untimely death. Suddenly the dimly lit bay with its inconsistent backup lightly wasn’t in front of him. Instead a figure made of darkness, brown cloak and black fur flooding his sight. He stumbled away, turning quickly. He realised quickly why the other Clones had met their deaths so quickly when he was tackled to the cold metal floor. 

Thrown to his back, he could do nothing but stare into the soulless white glow above him, before the beast’s fur claws blocked his vision, and then ceased it. The scratches began just below his eyes, raking down his face as a scream louder than the howling in his ears burst from his throat. Pain unlike any other hit him over and over and over, unending and agonising. Blood bubbled from his cheeks, blurring his teary vision.

“It wasn’t your fault, Tears. None of it was.”

He wasn’t sure why he didn’t feel sharp teeth sink through his flesh like he expected, or why the sudden weight over him was gone. All he knew was that the pain was going away. He was distantly aware of a blast ringing in his ears, although it didn’t echo in the room - a sign the pain was too much. He was vaguely aware of a figure hunched over him, murmuring sweet words to him as his vision faded in and out of consistency.

He was vaguely aware of the icy, bitter cold that hit him when the warm figure was pulled from his side, their screams echoing in his ears, intertwined with the girl’s. He could do nothing but stare at the silver blur above him, the metal ceiling plain and dull. He could do nothing but wait for his death, impatient almost as the pain racked his body.

He was dimly aware of the black dark crawling over him, bathing him in numbness as it took over. He was dimly aware of someone carrying him from the floor to a stretcher, aware of the splitting pain that caused him to wail. He was dimly aware of the shaking flight through the air, at least that’s what he thought it was. He was dimly aware of the rhythmic beeping filling his ears, coaxing him awake. 

He was aware of the message the beeping provided, loud, clear and solid.

You’re alive, Tears, you’re alive.

He was aware of the message as it hummed in the air, surrounded by nonexistent howls and screams and cries. He was aware of the pain on his face and the IV connected to his arm. He was aware of the voices around him, although unintelligible with the pounding of the roars. 

Tears was aware that he had survived.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed!!! Maybe shed a tear or two... Perhaps? Anyways, since I'm back, I'd really appreciate some requests, so go ahead and send 'em!!!

(taglist: @multi-purpose-paperclip, @skellymom, @kurlyfrii, @techs-goggles9902, dm me if you wish to be added or removed)