#suicidalprettyboy

*a7x voice* hAIL TO THE QUEEN

Mutuals send me a ❤️ & I’ll compliment you.|| Accepting

@suicidalprettyboy

KATY IS MY WIFE AND I DON’T THINK YOU COMPREHEND HOW IMPORTANT SHE IS TO ME??? LIKE WE HAVE SO MUCH IN COMMON, which is WILD because we’ve never actually met in person. 

Probably because you’re an Auzzie and I’m a Cannuk.

But seriously we had one conversation and in the span of said conversation, I’m pretty sure we became best friends. It was a magical moment, and one that I have been grateful for ever since. 

Send “RIP” and I’ll write a drabble of my Muse dying. || ALWAYS ACCEPTING TBH

Let’s see how many different ways I can kill them!

It was supposed to be a quick mission, a simple in-and-out routine on a veritable dust ball of a planet. Nothing they hadn’t done a million times in the past. Some of the men had been complaining about why they all had to go along for the ride, when most of them would wind up with nothing to do, and there may or may not have been a much-anticipated boloball game being broadcast that evening that none of them wanted to miss. Of course, Obi-Wan had born all the griping with a patient smile, a soft chuckle, a shake of his head. Braig had been eager to wrap things up, as well, though for different purposes. This planet was covered in ruins, and he wasn’t looking forwards to picking his way through any more dusty and cramped tunnels. 

But, that’s exactly what he found himself doing. He sighed to himself, then coughed as dust particles invaded his lungs. He scowled, cleared his throat, then shook his head, before pushing away a few unruly strands of hair that seemed determined to hang in front of his face. 

“I hate this place,” he muttered to himself, tugging on his sleeves as he went. Aside from his own echoing footsteps, the only other sounds were the occasional moments of chatter over the comm, which he was endlessly grateful for, and the skiitters and squeaks of insects and other small creatures, which was less appreciated. At one point, he’d kicked a pebble accidentally as he walked, and the noise of it rolling across the cold floor had sounded like a blaster shot. He’d been much more careful about watching his step, after that. He knew that he wasn’t in any real danger, as he was armed, and Obi-Wan and the troops weren’t very far away - sometimes, he’d see them in nearby hallways as they did a sweep of the buildings - so he knew he had no real reason to be so nervous. Yes, a Separatist General was supposed to be hiding somewhere around here, but it was supposedly one of those who’d bought their rank, and was likely completely useless in an actual fight. All they had to do was find him, bring him back to Coruscant to face trial, and let the Guard and the Senate deal with things from there. Then, he could go back to the Temple, have a nice, long shower, and make himself a cup of tea before he had to start on evening chores and lessons. Movement caught his eye, and he glanced sideways to see one of the men, a friendly guy called Razz, making his way through a tunnel connected to Braig’s by a refreshingly open cavern, complete with a bit of crumbled-in roof to allow a bit of light to trickle down. Razz seemed to notice the feeling of eyes on him, and turned, waving to Braig and disturbing a few swirling motes of dust in the process. Braig flashed a quick wave and a tense smile of his own, before both continued on their way.

“If I need anyone, I can just yell, and they’ll be here before I know it.” He muttered to himself, and that made him feel a bit better. He exhaled softly, and drew one of his sabers for an added sense of security. 

He’d progressed a good few corridors down the ruins, by this point, and hadn’t seen another person in a good while. He brushed the feeling of isolation off, assuring himself that it was all just some big coincidence… And staggering as he ran into a near-tangible wall of a corrupted Force signature. He wrinkled his nose, resisting the urge to gag at the feeling. 

This did not feel like a useless, rank-buying Separatist general. This felt like a threat. More than that, it felt familiar. He froze, calling his other saber to his other hand as he tried to pinpoint where exactly the sickening feeling was coming from, but he found himself having no luck, until a brilliant red blaster bolt fired past his ear, close enough that he could swear it singed the skin of his ear. He whirled, sabers flashing up to deflect another bolt, then another, as battle droids poured out of… Where? Where were they coming from? 

A heavy, metallic thud echoing like canon fire answered his question, and he jolted around just in time to parry a lethal slash of blue plasma. With a hacking chuckle and a narrowing of golden eyes, General Grievous continued his assault, and it was all Braig could do to keep himself from dying. Alive or not, he was quickly losing ground, and didn’t think he could risk glancing over his shoulder. Between the clanking of the droids and the screams of blasters, he could hear the men shouting out a mixture of profanity and orders. An ambush, Braig’s mind supplied, and he couldn’t help but snarl. It was a cowardly strategy, yes, but evidently effective. 

A sudden heat seared into his shoulder and he yelped, faltering just enough to allow another saber - green, this time - to embed itself in his rib cage, jerking upwards enough to lift him off his feet. Braig looked into those sickly yellow eyes, noting at first how much it hurt, and then how much it didn’t. He was vaguely aware of the sensation of his sabers falling from his hands, but he never heard them hit the floor. A whirl of purple in the corners of his fading vision and something said by the cyborg about adding to his collection offered explanation as to why that was. The last thing Braig was able to process, before he fell to a cold floor which was enigmatically replaced with a soothing blackness, was a harsh voice saying,

“Kenobi, how good of you to join us!”

Currently Stalking:

the-ramblin-man (9%)

allroundlostcause (5%)

joannahunts (5%)

suicidalprettyboy (4%)

emofaith (3%)

choosingtogodownswinging (3%)

destroyedbyguilt (2%)

iwannadogirlystuff (2%)

spiketheforsakensoul (2%)

With a groan, he pulled himself through the windscreen of this week’s car, stood up on the crushed bonnet and hopped down effortlessly and very much not like he’d just driven at full speed and ended up smashing it into a wall. “Isaac’s gonna be pissed.” Her question was avoided, but in a way it was also answered. Coming off completely unscathed by what would have killed him, the back of his neck was rubbed and he looked at Buffy, deciding to let her come to her own conclusions.