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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 3 years

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A LOVE RETURNED

Part Three of Philophobia

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

Warnings: Angst. Injury Mention.

A/N: I know I said this will be the last part but I once again got carried away and the chapter would of been never ending so I've had to add another part after this. Song rec for this chapter is Wings by Birdy.

PART 2

Days drag by whilst you're essentialy held captive by your friends under the General's orders.

Apparently you've been declared a risk to your own safety aswell as others on the base - deemed too reckless to be allowed to roam free without an escort. At first the assumption had irritated you but then as time went on you had to begrudgingly admit that Leia had you pinned.

You were a flight risk. No pun intended.

Given half the chance you absolutely would dive into your x-wing and go after Poe. And you absolutely wouldn't hesitate to incapacitate whoever stood in your way.

Both which, unfortunately for you, meant house arrest.

Rey and Finn guarded you the most and bless their hearts they tried to make it fun - tried to make it normal. Like you were all just hanging out together as you usually would.

And maybe it would work if you weren't startlingly aware of why they were there. Of precisely why Leia assigned them to you.

They stood the best chance against you should you rebel. The General had known of the closeness of your group and banked on your emotions working against you if it meant harming one of them to escape.

Smart.

They're both absent today though - stuck in some pointless meeting that they'll no doubt come by later to complain to you about.

Instead there's a timid little creature guarding your door - a newer recruit who'd been too scared to even say two words to you when you'd popped your head out in greeting.

Stories of the Captain of Black Squadron turning feral and dangerous over the loss of the Commander had spread like wildfire and it seemed many feared they'd be casualties in the lengths you'd go to rescue him.

Bored, you sit on your floor pouring over old photographs of you and Poe. Fingertips tracing over your best friend's smiling face. It's been a week. Seven excruciating days since you were called to see the General and had your world thrown into chaos and drowned in agony.

When you'd woken from the force induced sleep your rage had been all consuming. You'd screamed. Thrashed, clawed and howled bloody murder whilst Finn had desperately tried to keep you contained, tried to soothe you with soft-mouthed sounds and quiet reassurances.

But you had remained blind to everything except pure unfiltered fury - the sting of betrayal that churned bitter in your gut - and you would've burnt the entire base to the ground had Rey not put you under again.

The second time you awoke the anger had drained from your blood like poison. Replaced by grief that crashed into you in forceful waves that dragged you under and swallowed you whole. Your friends watching helplessly as you'd curled in on yourself when the gut wrenching sobs began to wrack your frame.

Now you sit day after day slowly detaching from reality the longer Poe is gone. An empty husk.

They try to keep your spirits up - feeding you pieces of information regarding plans for a rescue that never seems any closer to actually happening. But rather than pushing it anymore you just nod along dully.

You slowly suffocate from self loathing as you contemplate if the tables were turned he would have you rescued within hours. Yet here you are. Sitting here completely useless, not even involved.

Poe would be ashamed.

It's your fault he's been captured. After all if you hadn't let your fear push him away he would have never gone out alone. He would have took you with him - like always - and you would have kept each other safe. All the pain that he endures may aswell be inflicted by your own hands and if he dies…

No, you can't go down that path.

A heavy sigh blows past your lips as you flick through more photos. There's so many of the two of you - Poe never missing an opportunity to pose victoriously with you wrapped in his arms and his cheek pressed against yours. Beaming with pride after another successful mission.

Your eyes land upon one taken after you'd pulled one of your most ridiculous stunts to date. Chuckling softly as you recall Leia's furious voice berating you both over the comms - her shouts about thick skulled pilots never listening to orders ringing through your ears the whole way home.

That day had been a major win under the Resistance's belt and it had been thanks to you and Poe.

You remember flinging yourself out of your x-wing immediately upon landing - feet propelling you towards a whooping Poe Dameron who was already racing your way. As soon as he'd reached you he'd hooked his arms round your waist and beneath your knees and swung you triumphantly into his arms. Spinning you both around as you'd breathlessly shrieked his name.

The photograph is blurry. Taken whilst Poe was in motion but you adore it all the more for it. Your head is thrown back, radiating joy as you laugh and Poe is beaming down at you cradled in his arms. It's messy, imperfect and your absolute favourite photo you own.

It captures the love between you perfectly.

Tears splash down on the shiny surface and you it seems you're not as emotionally empty as you previously had believed. You fucking miss him. So much that it feels like a physical wound. Like you're bleeding out, slowly.

Maker, he'd be smug he'd as hell if he knew how worried you were, he always had preened under your attentions when you were concerned for him. Sometimes you think he deliberately scared you just to have you fuss over him.

If only this was one of those times.

You drag yourself up and onto your bed, flopping down and rubbing your tired eyes with one hand whilst the other clutches the photo to your chest.

Maybe it would bring you the comfort you needed to sleep tonight. Rest has been scarce since Poe was taken - a few hours at most scattered here and there. It's taken Rey and Finn sitting with you for you to be able to eventually drift off, the warmth of their embrace and soothing words being the only things that you've found stop the nightmares.

Though it devastated you the first time you'd woken in Finn's arms. His build and the smell of cologne tricking your sleep-addled brain into believing Poe was there, that everything was fine and he was safe. And then you had woke fully. Reality came crashing back in - shattering the illusion whilst Finn rocked you as you curled into his chest and broke down.

Feeling the rare pull of sleep now, your body almost surrenders before jolting violently at the sound of a commotion outside your door. You've only slightly raised yourself up on your elbows when a flustered Finn bursts through your door - panting as if he'd ran all the way to your quarters.

"What the hell Finn?" You groan. "I was just about to fall asleep. I swear if this is about another stupid, half assed rescue plan from those idiots I'm gonna-"

And then something stops you short. You're frozen completely - eyes wide - when a whirl of white and orange steam rolls past Finn, almost bowling him over before stopping inches from your bed frame.

"BB-8?" You whisper.

The droid beeps at you excitedly and you to suck in a sharp breath - slowly turning to Finn to search his face for any hint that you may of misinterpreted. That wishful thinking had finally turned into full blown hallucinations.

But no.

Finn's mouth is agape - opening and closing rapidly like he's desperate to tell you something that he just can't find a way to fit into words. Like he's choking on the emotion of it all - the startling relief and overwhelming joy that's blooming across his features the longer you stare.

It can't be.

And with the simplest of gestures he shears through the barely-hanging threads of your composure.

He nods.

The noise that flies past your lips is incoherent - caught somewhere between a sound of utter joy and a desperate sob - and then you're launching yourself from the bed to sprint out of the door.

Vaguely you hear Finn shout at your guard to let you go but you don't even bother turning to see if you're being pursued. They wouldn't catch you even if they tried. You're running faster than you have in your entire life - lungs burning and muscles screaming. Both barely noticeable when compared to the way you're heart slams against your ribs as the distance to the hangar becomes less and less.

BB-8 races ahead of you, leading the way as your bare feet slap against the ground whilst you run. People are pressing themselves against walls as you careen through the corridors and fleetingly it occurs to you that you must look absolutely batshit insane.

You don't care. Your pulse is thundering in your ears and there's hope filling up your lungs - making you feel like you can finally take a full breath after so long. You all but explode into the hangar before you lose sight of BB-8, your head whipping back and forth - frantic - as you search for any sign of him or his owner.

There.

You spot a large crowd gathered around a battered old fighter - your breath catching in your throat as you slowly creep closer and begin pushing your way through. The first few people are reluctant to move for you but then they turn and recognise who you are - a hushed murmur rippling through the crowd before it steadily parts.

Your freeze as one by one people fall back. Thee mass thinning from the middle until there's a wall of people on either side of you and finally, as the last few bodies fall away, you see him.

Maker, you can't breathe.

His inky curls are a disaster - stuck up in places and matted in others. Whether with sweat or blood you can't be too sure. Bruises scatter his skin like smudged constellations among so many more streaks of red that it makes you feel both sick and furious all at once.

His favourite jacket has been torn across the shoulder and out of everything it's that that cements it for you that he's here alive and infront of you right now. That damn jacket. You teased him relentlessly for never going anywhere without it and now? You've never been so happy to see it in your life.

He hasn't noticed you yet and your throat has tightened to the point you couldn't even call out if words were able to come to you. You watch him instead - drinking in the sight of him before your vision goes hazy with tears.

There's a member of Black Squadron clapping him on the back furiously amidst the cheering but Poe turns away when BB-8 starts nudging his legs. You see him bend down and then your knees almost buckle when the deep rasp of his voice drifts over the crowd to burrow inside your aching chest.

"What was that buddy?"

You can't contain the sob that rips up your throat - both hands shakily covering your mouth as Poe shoots up from the floor and whirls around to face you. His eyes widen and his lips part around your name and then he stumbles forward - breaking into a run as you rush towards him.

You collide in the middle. Momentum sending you both crashing to the ground and his arms are around you in an instant - dragging you both to your knees and you closer against him as he buries his face in your neck. Mouthing your name against the skin repeatedly like a prayer.

Your hands are everywhere all at once - clutching his arms - his back - tenderly cradling his head and then finally his face as you pull back a fraction to take him in up close. He's mosaic of injuries but in this moment he's never been more beautiful.

Alive and back in your arms where he belongs.

Shaky puffs of air escape you as he presses his forehead to yours, the gesture so familar that more tears spill down your cheeks as your eyes briefly flutter closed. But then you feel the gentle nudge of his fingers and your eyes snap back open, watching him quietly as he wipes the moisture from your face with a soft smile.

"Hi." He whispers. Nudging your nose softly with his whilst you stare at him and a disbelieving laugh echoes from your mouth at the audacity.

"Poe Dameron. You fly off on your own, get yourself captured, return a week later looking like absolute shit and all you have to say for yourself is hi?" You berate him with mock outrage. Shaking you head when he grins down at you and winks.

"Just a few scrapes, nothing I can't handle. You weren't worried about me now, were you?" He teases.

And stars, you'd normally threaten to knock that smirk right off his perfect face but you've missed him too much. The fear of never having another moment like this with him still clinging to the edges of your mind - the ghost of it still faintly hooked in your gut.

The lightly smug expression falters then and you guess your face must have changed. That he must have caught the echoes of your fear and your pain as they swept through you. And now you can feel him drawing back to take you in as you had previously done to him.

He searches your face, gaze raking over the dark circles imprinted beneath your wet eyes. The faded pallor of your skin and the light tremble of your bitten through lip. Something pained flashes through his eyes and his grip on you suddenly tightens.

"I'm sorry-" You both blurt out and you chuckle sadly whilst Poe shakes his head - brow pinched in confusion.

"What could you possibly have to be sorry for?" He asks softly.

You stare at him, incredulous. "Are you serious? This was all my fault Poe." You croak. Holding a stern hand up when he goes to argue. "I'm the reason we fought and then I hurt you badly enough that you felt the need to leave without back-up and got caught. You could have died Poe - I nearly lost you twice and I've only got myself to blame."

A shudder runs through you- the terror and the guilt of the situation slamming into you in a way you hadn't previously allowed. You hadn't let yourself think of the possibility of death. Of the cruelty of it being able to touch someone like Poe because you had given it that chance.

You choke on a sob and Poe stares - horrified. He'd been so desperate to return to you, to get the chance to hold you again and beg for your forgiveness that he'd never considered you would blame yourself for his actions.

He should have known better. After all, he knows you. He knows the way you're prone to finding fault with yourself and being blind to his own. You ignore that he's the one that instigated that fight because fear got the better of him. You glaze over the fact that he thrust a confession like that on you out of nowhere and you don't owe him your affections.

He could have handled it better - he could have shoved his hurt to the side and taken a small team instead of endangering himself, you and the entirety of the resistance in the process of licking his wounds.

And now you're crying and apologising to him. Guilt making you ill because you've decided to shoulder the weight of his stupid mistakes. It devastates him. Leaves him feeling like he's the worst best friend in the galaxy.

He smooths a large hand the back of your head. Gently cups the nape of your neck to tuck back into him whilst shooing away those from the crowd that still linger to watch curiously.

"None of this is your fault sweetheart." He mutters against your hair, rubbing small, soothing circles on your back. His other hand stroking at the nape of your neck.

But it's like you can't hear him. Like you can do nothing but curl your fingers into his beaten up jacket and whisper I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. Over and over until the words all fade together.

Poe rocks you gently, hushing you with soft-mouth sounds. "Shh it's okay - it's okay honey I'm here now." He coaxes and then he's pulling you to your feet - bending down to swing you up into the cradle of his arms.

You let out a small, startled noise of surprise when you're lifted - arms winding tightly around his neck before you half-heartedly glare up at him in shock. He drops his chin to look at you, inviting you to bitch at him with the teasing quirk of his brow but you only grumble a lukewarm protest. Lowering your head to his chest as he huffs a low laugh that rumbles beneath your cheek.

There's people staring - whispers passed back and forth whilst Poe just marches straight past without a care. He knows you catch some of it though. Your body stiffening in his arms as he leads you out of the hanger. His grip becomes protective - threaded with reassurance as he squeezes you gently and brushes his lips over your temple.

Your head lolls against his shoulder with each step and for a moment he thinks you've fallen asleep- your breathing evening out from the tremors after your sobs to something slow and steady. But then every minute or so he catches you sneaking glances at him - nodding to yourself when you seem fully satisfied that he's still there and not just going to vanish into thin air.

He smiles - indulgent - but it drops just as quickly when he realises why. When he wonders just how many times that you woke searching for him over this past week and he wasn't there. It rips through him. Shakes him down the very root - his core that pulsed with his love for you and was now flooded with guilt.

You stir in his hold when he reaches his door - a light frown passing over your face as it registers in your hazy mind where you are.

"Sweetheart can you do the honours?" Poe asks, nodding for you to enter his code.

You wonder why he doesn't just put you down but say nothing, simply reaching over to punch in the sequence of numbers you memorised a long time ago. For now, your rather concerned as to why you're at his quarters and not the medbay.

"Poe what are we doing here? You need checking over by a doctor." You protest mildly but he just shakes his head.

He carries you into his room - padding over to the large, immaculately made bed where he carefully places you down against the pillows. His eyes rove over every inch of your face as he takes a seat beside you, the matress dipping beneath his weight. He touches your face - tender fingers reaching up to graze the swell of your cheek.

"I don't need a doctor, I just need this." He says quietly.

You swallow hard. The sincerity in his voice - the quiet longing - it melts you in a way that has your heart fluttering like a bird. A sweet warmth blooming under your ribs with the way he's looking at you, like you've hung all the stars in the sky. But before you can respond the look passes and a strange shadow falls over his features as he draws back from you.

"Sorry I didn't mean to-" He mumbles suddenly unable to look in your direction. Discomfort rolls off of him in waves as he pulls away completely, grabbing some sleep pants from a drawer before turning to you over his shoulder. "I'm just gonna go shower, make yourself comfortable." He rubs at his neck before heading for the fresher. Head hung low and shoulders slumped.

Bewildered, you stare after him.

What the hell just happened? Was he still mad at you?

You thought after the way you had reunited that there was hope for things to be okay between the two of you. The way he'd looked at you during that moment when he'd laid you down and touched your cheek - his eyes brimming with what you could only describe as love.

Shit. Of course.

Poe doesn't know that you love him. You'd been too emotionally wrecked by his return to remember your promise to tell him immediately when you saw him.

No wonder he withdrew from you so suddenly, he probably thought that he was overstepping some kind of boundary. Probably feared that the slightest slip into that territory would send you bolting once more.

You groan, pressing your fingers to your temples. Maker, you've really made a mess of this whole thing.

You almost tempted to march right through the fresher door to rectify your mistake right now before you force yourself to sit still and think. Being faced with a naked Poe would definitely hinder your ability to tell him how you feel.

Let's be honest, it'd probably hinder your ability to speak at all. Or even breathe.

You need to tell him but as the moment draws nearer, doubt inevitably sinks through your gut. Anxiety crawling through your ribs. There's a nagging feeling that he won't believe you, that he'll think you're only saying it out of guilt for his suffering. The thought of how this could all go so very wrong makes you feel queasy. You've just got him back, you don't want to risk pushing him away again.

You're lost inside your head when Poe comes back into the room - the noise from the fresher door makes you jump guiltily as your eyes snap out of their trance and dart to him.

And oh stars, where is his shirt?

Your tongue turns to sand in your mouth and you swallow harshly - trying to look anywhere that isn't in the direction of his smooth, bare skin. There's water still dripping from the broad planes of his chest. Down the firm muscles of his stomach. You stare pointedly at the wall to avoid tracing the paths they make down to the pants slung low on his hips.

Poe eyes you curiously at first before a slow, mischievous smile peels apart his lips when he takes in your flustered expression - the barely restrained fidgeting. Your fingers that are knotted in his bedsheets.

He saunters towards the bed, falling beside you and resting his head on his pillow before he throws his arms open wide. You eye him hestitantly and he scoffs.

"What? No cuddles for your favourite person in the galaxy - don't tell me you've replaced me so soon?" He teases and you roll your eyes.

He places a hand over his wounded heart, gasping. "You have. Who dared to steal my best friend from me? Was it Finn?" He accuses. "I bet it was Finn. You always side with him over me."

A smile finally cracks through your attempt to ignore him follwed by a soft chuckle as Poe beams proudly when he drags you into the warm circle of his arms and you follow without hesitation.

You lie face to face and it feels like it always has. Like comfort and home and like nothing exists outside of the two of you right here, together. Poe's hand lifts to brush hair away from your face and his eyes scan your features for any hint of discomfort, insecurity bleeding into his once easy gestures.

"This okay?" He asks and all you can do is nod mutely. Voice rendered useless as your relaxed state allows your mind to drift elsewhere.

To three little words that weigh heavy on your tongue.

Poe feels like he can breathe for the first time since the mission that caused your argument. Like the constant fear and adrenaline that had snatched him up is finally unlatching from the meat of his lungs. It's all over, he can rest. He's home now - he's with you.

And he's loathe to admit it but as days crawled by in his cell he'd began doubting he'd ever get to have this again. He had broke in secret, under the cover of night where it couldn't be used against him. His knees pressed to his chest - hiccuping through salty tears as he grew convinced his last memory of you would be him making you cry. Of fracturing your bond and making you run from him.

He thought he would die with you angry and hurt by him - maybe even hating him. And that had ripped at Poe in ways the First Order couldn't. It also re-lit the fire in his chest to fight. To escape so he could return to you and make things right.

And now he's safe. He's back in the arms of his entire galaxy and it feels right. It feels perfect. It's impossibly selfish but he doesn't want to bring up all of his mistakes and ruin the tender moment. Not when your fingers are slipping so softly through his wet curls, his eyes lulled shut against his will as you heal all his hurts with each light tug.

"Stars I've missed you." He murmurs. Shifting closer to press his forehead against yours, eyes sliding open lazily when he hears your trembling exhale.

Warm, honeyed eyes watch you warily upon discovering the nervousness painting your expression. It makes his heart twinge in fear. He doesn't like it when something makes you nervous, there's not many things have that kind of power over you.

Is it him?

Fuck. Was he being to full on - making you uncomfortable - should he inch back and give you space?

Clearing your throat, your anxious gaze flicks to his. "Poe I have something I need to tell you." You whisper.

His breath stutters in his chest as you move closer. Fingers inching down from his hair to curve over his jaw - thumbs stroking his cheeks. He nods, urging you to speak. Brings a hand up to engulf yours as he squeezes your waist in what he hopes is an encouraging gesture and prays that you can't see the panic that's steadily engulfing him.

He braces himself but no amount of preparing can ready him for the blow to his chest when your suck in a deep breath - eyes growing bold - and your lips part around a bombshell confession.

"I love you."

PART 4

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fic #poe dameron #my writing

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ambivertwriter · 3 years

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I’m Sorry You Feel That Way (Katsuki Bakugo HC)

Warning/s: Mild cursing | Severe Insults Prompt: [M4A] Katsuki Bakugo doesn’t know how to express his feelings in a healthy manner; he never has. The way his mother showed him affection made him never want to love others. This becomes a problem when he develops a liking for you, and the feeling is mutual. You, knowing him, decide to confess. He, of course, feels the same way, but in this heated moment, he reacts in a way that was to be expected, but you never knew it could hurt so much.

Ever since you had entered the UA Hero Course, everyone knew there was something different about you. It wasn’t your size, your skin color, your eye color or your quirk. Rather, it was your ability to not get absolutely pummeled by Katsuki Bakugo on the daily considering how much you bug him. You’d hand around him like a fly to garbage, but not once did he threaten you or harm you in any way. This is what shocked you so much when you finally decided to confess to him. That’s how you ended up here, in front of the main doors to the school under one of the various trees.

Unbeknownst to you, Bakugo also liked you, but never knew how to express his feelings other than tolerance. When you did decide to confess to him, he was in such shock and fear that he did the only thing he knew how to do: threaten.

“Bakugo, I’ve wanted to say it for quite a while, and I know this is probably such a stupid thing to say, but I really like you. It’s okay if you don’t like me back, but I thought it’d be best to let you know,“ you said softly. Your heart was either beating so quickly that it was practically undetectable, or it had completely stopped. Either way, the anxiety building up within was almost unbearable.

The look on Bakugo’s face was... frightening, to say the least. It was an expression you had never seen before. Heck, it was likely that nobody had ever seen this expression before. It was a mix of surprise and pure thought, as if he had 20 inner monologues going on at once. However, a heartbreaking emotion was soon added into this new expression, an emotion that you had prayed would never seep onto his face when he was with you, but here you were. That emotion was pure, unfiltered disgust.

“You absolute fucking moron! What the fuck do you think you’re talking about?! Huh?! I’m Katsuki goddamn Bakugo, and I don’t have ANY time for nobodies like you. You can take your feelings and shove it. Now that you’ve brought it up, I can finally let loose on the annoying shit you do. That stupid lovey-dovey look you have on your ugly face whenever you’re near me is sickening. Whenever you get close, I feel like blowing you up into smithereens. I only tolerated you because I felt sorry for you, so if you think I feel anything but burning, seething rage for you, you’re sadly mistaken. Hell, take your own way to the pearly gates; see if I care,“ he snarled. Never would you think that he’d hold this much rage towards anyone, but you shouldn’t be surprised. This was the famous Bakugo temper everyone was warning you about, but you didn’t believe them. This shouldn’t have hurt you, seeing as how you could take his insults towards you, but this... this was just too much

You turned away and covered your face. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you weren’t going to let him have the satisfaction of breaking another soul. You sniffed up the sadness to put on one last act of courage for now. You turned back towards him and walked ever so slowly until you were merely a foot apart. You looked him dead in the eyes and muttered out the last phrase you’d (seemingly) ever utter to him:

“I’m sorry you feel that way.“

After uttering those words, you brushed past him, intentionally bumping into his shoulder as you walked towards the doors to the school.

The rest of the day, you had ignored him completely. The rest of the class had noticed, but chose to say nothing. When you got back to your dorm, you finally let out all the tears you had been holding in all day. You simply just couldn’t take it anymore. After closing the door, you bawled into your hands and dropped to the floor. There you stayed for the rest of the night, curled up and crying uncontrollably. Why does loving have to hurt this much? --END-- What did you think? I’m open to making a part two if requested. If you have any other ideas and suggestions, let me know and I’d love to write them out!

#bakugo katuski x reader #headcanon #bnha #fiction #katsuki bakugo headcanons

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bomberqueen17 · 3 years

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hoo boy

so it’s not friday today, apparently

i made it through all of 2020 largely intact but now this is twice this year i’ve gone through more than half of a workday fully convinced it was a day of the week that it is not.

I’m perhaps under a bit of stress, methinks. And a very close friend spent much of the weekend blowing up my phone with stressed-out texts and emails, and on Tuesday or whichever day it was that I was off work dealing with car repairs and such, I spent more than an hour answering her as she had additional little breakdowns. And then my mother’s phone wasn’t working, so I spent another probably half an hour or more texting back and forth with her about it.

With the result that I had a great deal of trouble focusing on anything else, and accomplished very little of my own that day. And then the next day at work, I was all scattered-- I’m not blaming the people who needed stuff from me on Tuesday, I’m blaming unmedicated ADHD, and also whatever underlying stress made me miss February’s period so I’m currently finally on day 6 of heavy bleeding (after having literally lost sleep over my late period, which like, I don’t need that), and whatever, I’m just a fucking wreck, but

anyway, today is not Friday, the hellish Wednesday I spent not able to achieve anything was in fact only yesterday, that’s fantastic, because i had carefully counted out the food I had for this week and took the last of it today because I’m trying to clear the fridge out before we leave tomorr-- err, Saturday. fuck.

And this morning as I’m at work Dude texted me to nag me to get my state tax return for the accountant, and I said well I need information from previous years’ stuff which is in the folder on your desk, and he said i have it right here go ahead so i went ahead and asked him for the info i needed and forty-five minutes later he texts back with that info, so the site had timed out and crashed and

now the state department of taxation and finance simultaneously believes that I need to give them more info and also that I already have, so their website is an endless loop for me and there’s no way out of that, there’s no online help form only FAQ’s, and their phone tree is only for help filing taxes not getting an online account reset, so there’s nothing I can do there, so

I have lost my entire shit about this, and Dude was like “well then call the accountant and let him know you can’t get the info for him” and this has sent me into spates of howling rage and now I just don’t know how to go back to living as a normal person, since I have transcended this mortal plane and now am a being of pure unfiltered fury. IDK man, maybe don’t nag me to do stuff that needs your input when you’re not really available to give it?

Of course now I’m at fault because I’ve lost my temper, so welcome to the eternity of purgatory where I live as a non-valid entity without any kind of recourse for my wrath. *floats around*

It’s boring as hell here, and also, the NYS Dep’t of Tax and Finance should be abbreviated as the NYS DTF and they sure are, they’re down to fuck me specifically, which unfortunately is not what I wanted out of life.

I’ve informed Dude that I’m not paying my state taxes, then, and they can come collect me and put me in prison where I can finally rot in peace. This was of course an irrational thing to say, so I am heretofore canceled and will no longer be having normal human conversations in my own household.

So that’s the state of the me, I’m trying to collect myself enough to be a productive and functional human being not just for today but apparently also for tomorrow which is maybe the worst thing I’ve ever contemplated.

Also for some reason I’m really overinvested in the fate of the Ever Given. People are going to be hurt by this! I’m so upset that this boat is stuck in the goddamned Suez Canal about which I had never really thought before in my life? I don’t know why. I can’t stop obsessively checking up on it and at first it was light-hearted and funny like “ah what can you do” but now I’m just like, on the verge of tears as I contemplate how fucked everyone is and how the people whose fault it is are never the ones who pay the price. People will die over this, surely, and the memes are fun and all but it’s so upsetting for some reason.

Also I spent a little while very specifically daydreaming about hugging each one of my family members in turn, and I even encouraged myself to do this because I thought it would help, and then nearly broke myself vividly recollecting the last time I hugged my dad, so, that was fun. I’m obviously coping extremely well, and I thought I was going to get to see them tomorrow and now tomorrow isn’t tomorrow, so that’s fucking fantastic.

I’m doing fucking great.

(Heh, I sent a stressed-out email back to the friend I’d been counseling through her breakdown and she has not responded for several hours so likely, that was not a good direction to attempt to draw support from. Whoops. Guess I’ll feel guilty about that for a while, now!)

#personal #about the author #well now i can't go home because dude will be even more sullen at me than he has already been lately #and i can't do anything useful here #so maybe i'll just go cry in my car #of course i forgot a handkerchief #i always have one but not today #tw grief

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sir-contra · 4 years

Text

So last night a friend and I were having a very long chat about Warframe and how the lore gaps have so much to be built upon and it went like this:

The Corpus, are fucking terrifying, and let me tell ya why.

The Orokin knew the Corpus were trouble, like right from the beginning. The Orokin, with power so great, with the power to make the system their bitch, knew the Corpus were a fucking threat. But what did the Corpus do, if not die? Well, simple. They got a weakness from the Orokin, and wiped them out, because the Corpus are disgustingly, and scarily cunning. Where they lack in numbers? They make up for in brains. Common Corpus enemies, from lore standpoint, if they began to think like the Corpus big boys, they could overwhelm a Warframe, take it, rip it apart like a wild animal killing its prey, and make a profit off of it. And it’s obvious by of course what Alad had done, especially in his trailor.

Mag was struggling, and there’s of course how he fucked Valkyr right the fuck up

And that’s of course only the beginning of it - There’s also the fact that the warframes of course feel, and by extension, the Tenno feel what their warframe goes through. So picture this: You are finally awakened as a Tenno. You feel like your top shit. You’re young, a child, and you are fueled by pure bloodlust, and you have had nobody teach you that running right into battle is a bad idea, and the Lotus does a poor job of teaching you that. So let’s say you pick the wrong fight. Your Warframe gets captured by a corpus, and its not simple containment where you have time to rip the doors open and book it to extraction, you’re pinned down and they are scheming on what they plan to do to you, and then it’s finally time. The stage is set, the tools are out: They’re going to skin your Warframe alive. You the Tenno, are fighting with rage running through your blood, you clearly aren’t grasping the direness of the situation, and your warframe? Acting on it’s own, and it feels unfiltered panic. Struggling, trying to rip away, though they’re already diving in to your poor frame, and you can’t do anything about it. Energy is dead and gone, weapons are long cast away, and they’re ripping your Frame apart. Your Warframe, is shrieking, and not only that, so are you. To say it “hurts” is an understatement. You, Tenno, are not being torn open alive, but it feels like it, it hurts so much that your shrieking is filling the air alongside your Frames. You survive the horrifying and lengthy dissection, but your Warframe? It’s met it’s end, and you don’t even get to grasp it, because you pass out. Transference to it, gone. Impossible to regain.

now i bet ur wondering “Oh, Shun that’s not-” Well shut u up, Alad had to plan for god knows how long, to Capture not just one, but MANY warframes to build his weird fucked up dog, which has to have a control collar because all those parts damn well hold the memories of what he did and the shit they went through, if it wasn’t for that it would tear him a new asshole and even he was aware. And then there’s the fact that there’s not just the ONE Zanuka, the fucking psychopath

Tenno and Warframe, they strong as fuck, damn well OP as all hell, but they aren’t immortal alright, and of course the Corpus know that much They’ve had all the time in forever to plan on how they’re gonna get what they want, and they’ve done it countless times

They’ve caught plenty of Warframes, and made a hell of a profit off of them, but one could only IMAGINE what they would do to an actual Tenno, regardless of their age. If it was money to be made, they’ll cut up whatever and sell the parts on the spot.

So let’s talk about Nef Anyo right

Nef, is a bitch ass motherfucker. Glad we agree!

While we haven’t seen what Nef is really like, you know, when snapping and blowing the fuck up, we did see him in utter desparation ( The Deadlock Protocol ) when he was basically begging the Tenno to haul ass and help him (and of course we do because Tenno are dumb kids piloting deathmachines)

And sure, his begging is one thing, but one could only imagine him snapping in rage. A fight where you engage Nef, and it’s just a big session of “Holy shit what have I gotten myself into?!” And not because it’s annoying. But because he’s constantly screaming all the horrible things he’s going to do to that precious little warframe of yours, and on your last revive, if you die, he grabs your Warframe, slams it against the wall/or floor, and he tears into it to hear it scream. And as it’s barely holding on, he looks it in the eyes, leaning close, and in his voice, between clenched teeth, all you hear is “ You’re next, Tenno. “

So basically, being a Tenno? Yeah it fucking SUCKS.

So that’s when I thought of this:

And that’s where this lovely lady comes in.

Drastaeia. Drastaeia, is the Rogue Tenno, who has long abandoned the Lotus after the Corpus had taken and killed one of her two partners. One being Valkyr Mithra, the other being Oberon Feyarch, the latter being the one dissected and sold for parts after he threw himself to get her the hell out of there with Valkyr in the final stretch of a long drawn battle that they had no chance of winning. Losing one of her family, ,she had truly saw that the path she walked would only bring more suffering, and that the origin system was doomed right from the start. Kill, and kill, and kill again, but they’ll just come back. Corpus, Grineer, Sentients; You kill one, two show up, and the numbers grow and grow; it wasn’t a fight for children to be forced into, and she knew that any tenno walking this path of “justice” would eventually die before reaching the goal of “peace”. She tries her best to save them, especially the younger Tenno, but ultimately fails due to children being stubborn, headstrong and generally difficult, and feels remorse for being unable to save them from the hell they’re walking into.

Ultimately, she blames the Lotus. Not for her “Betrayal”, but because she’s still leading these new Tenno - These children to an early grave, even when they experience the good of the system, it doesn’t make up the hell and horror they have to go through for ultimate peace.

Drast is often seen as a threat to Tenno by the Lotus, due to abandoning what was deemed as “her duty”, and is often called dangerous and one that must either be eradicated, or avoided, at all costs, though she doesn’t prefer to fight with other Tenno. She holds no fear against them, but she would rather not raise arms against her “brothers and sisters”, but only wishes to save them from their early demise. Before losing her Feyarch, Drast was headstrong and loud, and quite the adventurer. Paired with Oberon and Valkyr, there was never a moment where she wasn’t smiling and laughing with them, for they were her family.

After Oberon was taken, she was, for the longest time a wreck, and in a way still is, and holds a deep grudge to the Lotus for leading her and others astray. But not only that, she has been more reserved in terms of her social status, opting not to be too loud. She’s extremely close to Valkyr, who of which is terrifyingly protective of her due to losing her other friend, and often assesses the target first before letting them engage with Drast. Though despite it all, she has her sense of adventure within.

anyway thanks for reading lmao

#Warframe #Tenno #Warframe Operator #shun art #shun's art #valkyr warframe

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a-dorin · 4 years

Text

naboo | kylo ren

word count: 1,127

warnings: mentions of oral, oral (giving), sexual acts in public, cursing

a/n: this was a request for @apple-my-snapple featuring her original character! i do not own cherry sauba, but she requested that i write a kylo x cherry for her! this is written a little different, in third person style. i hope you all enjoy!

summary: kylo ren steps in to save an innocent woman in the city of theed, on the planet of naboo. although it was not according to his mission plans, kylo ren does not see his setback as a bad thing.

night fell over the planet of naboo, the city of theed bustling with life, the streetlamps glowing, the rhythmic music of cantinas flooding the streets. all walks of life strolled through the streets, unaware of the dark presence within their city.

kylo ren, supreme leader of the first order, wandered the streets, his eyes taking in the sight before him beneath the mask, small sheen of sweat plastered on his forehead. although the air was still thick with summer heat, kylo would never dare take off his mask. his saber was hooked to his belt, a hand resting on the hilt. if a rebel spotted him, he was ready to fight back.

it was approaching midnight, the clock-tower in the center of the city reading eleven-thirty. the supreme leader let out a huff, as his mission was not going in the direction he planned. kylo ren was on a solo mission, for some much needed isolation. however, the planet he chose was not favorable. the sheer amount of noise and lights overwhelmed him.

turning a corner, a commotion in the alleyway piqued the supreme leader's attention. a twi'lek held a woman by her throat, her pink hair bouncing as she struggled to fight off his grip. kylo let out a brief sigh, pondering if he should step in. part of him told him that it was not his business interfere. yet, the other part was prompting him to save her life.

the twi'lek began to float, shock overriding his initial feelings of rage. he struggled under kylo's force grip, snarling at the woman like she was the one who was behind it, "what are ya? some witch or something? what is this fucking spell you've put me under?"

"don't make me kill you," kylo ren boomed, the woman's eyes widening in fear as she noticed the shadow approach the two, "because i will. it'll be a fair trade, after all. you wanted to kill this poor innocent woman."

"she's not poor nor innocent," the twi'lek sneered, squirming, "she robbed me! i was promised a full session with her!"

"i didn't promise you shit!" the woman jeered, her face twisted with disgust.

"sure cherry," the twi'lek rolled his eyes, "victimize yourself for the big man to come save you."

with that statement, kylo put the twi'lek under a choke hold, the male gasping for breath. kylo squeezed his fingers, further choking the twi'lek. he sputtered out unrecognizable words, pleading with the supreme leader. seconds later, kylo dropped him, kicking him in the gut. running on pure adrenaline, the twi'lek scrambled to his feet, nearly sprinting out of the alleyway.

"thank you," the woman whispered, her burgundy eyes warm.

kylo ren didn't respond, only to turn away, marching down the alleyway. the woman let out a huff, "is there any way i can repay you?"

her inquiry sparked interest within the supreme leader. he shifted, so that he was face to face with her once again, "do me a favor then, pretty girl."

"w-what's that?" kylo's compliment caused a blush to spread through her cheeks.

"how about you give me one of those sessions that twi'lek was referring to?" kylo's gloved hand grasped the girl's chin, tilting it so that their eyes met, "how does that sound?"

"sir," the girl sucked in a breath, "that twi'lek, he was my ex-boyfriend and he was just mad that i didn't give him a blow-"

"i saved your life," kylo hissed, "and you offered to repay me. get on your knees and suck my cock then since you didn't suck his."

"i-i don't know you like that," the girl stammered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"what's your name?" kylo pried.

"cherry sauba, sir," she murmured, her eyes desperately trying to avoid kylo's hard gaze. even with the mask on, she could feel his eyes boring into her.

"suck my cock, cherry," kylo growled, "get on your knees and repay me."

cherry obeyed, kneeling down on the ground. timidly, she placed a hand on the outline of kylo's cock, palming it through the fabric. a low, guttural groan escaped kylo's lips as she did so, encouraging her. some of her shyness dissolved as she unbuttoned kylo's pants, sliding them down his legs, his underwear too. a shaky breath left her as kylo's cock sprang free, his size massive.

"take it," kylo gripped her head, "i know you can pretty girl."

wrapping a hand around the base, cherry pressed her lips around his tip, pumping as her tongue dragged across kylo's slit. the supreme leader groaned, his fingers lacing into her thick hair. it had been too long since kylo ren was touched like this. he no longer craved it. he needed more.

without warning, cherry went deeper, her cheeks hollowing as her head bobbed, taking in all of kylo's throbbing cock. kylo watched in awe, as pleasure came over him in thick waves, intensifying as she went deeper and deeper, the entirety of his cock almost down her throat.

"you're such a good girl," kylo groaned, his voice strained. for a moment, cherry caught the undertones of kylo's voice. his real voice, unfiltered by the modulator. it was deep, his tone inflected with lust.

cherry glanced up, her thick eyelashes fluttering as she continued to suck kylo's cock, feeling kylo's eyes meet hers. cherry took in all of kylo's cock, her hand fondling his balls. kylo closed his eyes, his jaw slack. he was going to cum. and he wasn't going to warn her, either. he enjoyed this too much.

cum filled cherry's mouth, hot and thick as it went down her throat. she swallowed, a loud pop filling the alleyway as kylo's cock sprang from her mouth. a gloved hand extended, offering guidance. she took it, allowing the supreme leader to help her up.

kylo slid his pants back on, buttoning them. without saying another word, he sauntered away, leaving cherry alone in the alleyway. however, she could still feel his presence in her thoughts as his shadow disappeared into the night.

whoever kylo ren was, he was no wretched old man. he was young, his voice full of strength. a blush burned through cherry's cheeks as she realized the effect he had on her. never would she have gotten on her knees for a stranger. somehow, she did. and she had no idea why.

kylo ren was a mystery. an enigma in the night. was it all a dream? cherry wasn't sure. whatever it was, it was good. too good. cherry needed to see that man again. to see what he was really like under that mask. to see if kylo ren was human.

and she was going to stop at nothing until it she achieved her goal.

#kylo ren #kylo ren smut #kylo x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #kylo ren x reader #kylo #kylo ren fluff

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indiavolowetrust · 4 years

Note

I really love your prompts!! I would like to try to give you one : "- You don't have to fight for me. - Darling, I would burn down the three realms for you." For the obey me character of your choice! Thanks in advance!

Hullo, thanks for sending in an ask! And also thank you for loving my prompts. I had way too much fun with this one.

I took this one as the following: a war has broken out between all three realms after a millennium of political strife and unsuccessful acts of peace. You fight on the side of the Devildom amongst the brothers, despite being a human, and are tasked with fetching an artifact that will turn the tides of war. In a divine temple, you stare up at the blade of an angel.

TW: Blood, Violence

You had wondered what an angel had looked like, once. Before you fell into the Devildom, before the terrible war between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm began, you had expected them to look much like those in the baroque paintings you had seen in museums. Chubby, rosy-cheeked cherubim, each one flying over the cradle of some blessed babe. Plump, beautiful women, their arms splayed out in a tasteful garden. Arresting figures composed of light. Wonderful beings with immaculate wings, golden halos, and a gaze that burned with the justice of the heavens.

And all those things just so happen to be true. Perhaps if you were not staring down the halberd of an angelic priestess at the moment, you might even appreciate the beauty.

“State your name and regiment, traitor,” demands the three-faced angel, all facets of her visage contorted in disgust. The fiery rings that encircle her head blaze with the fury of a thousand lesser divine creatures, each one spinning in perpetual motion. Her alabaster body is poised before you in a perfect fighting stance. “Do this, and I shall consider sparing you.”

You swallow. The tip of her halberd is so close to your throat that it grazes the skin there as you do so, drawing blood. Your armor blossoms with the drop of blood, the crimson staining itself deep into the fabric. You make a note to request Lord Diavolo for a cake of soap whence you return to the Devildom. If you survive this, that is.

Despite your fear, you hold all three of her gazes. She huffs with impatience.

“Out with it!” she snarls. “Or do you prefer that I --”

An uproar comes from behind her. It appears that the battlefield has encroached deeper into the lands of the Celestial Realm, judging by the shouts of soldiers and clashing of metal. She turns her head instinctively, her attention captured by the disturbance for a moment.

It is an opening.

You shove the shaft of her halberd aside, rolling just in time to avoid her thrusting strike. The metal embeds itself deep into the white marble, providing you another opportunity, and you procure your own sword from the scabbard at your side. The angel scowls at you. She wrenches the halberd from the marble with inhuman strength, levelling it at you once more -- but this time, you have the advantage of distance between yourself and the divine being. While you may not have any skill in sorcery like Solomon or the raw strength of a demon, you have more than enough determination and deftness to make up for it. You have more than enough stubbornness than you should have as well.

And so it is with this confidence that you face the angel. Neither of you dare to make the first move. A long moment passes, the sounds of the battlefield only coming closer and closer. The angel knows this, her senses much sharper than yours, and she smirks.

You’re running out of time. If you don’t incapacitate her soon, your efforts in stealing the divine artifact will be in vain. The divine artifact could very well be the catalyst of the war -- and here you are, barely able to fend off a divine priestess. It is no wonder that you were not allowed to join the fray.

You need to think, and you need to think fast. The war will not be won without the artifact. As demons cannot enter such a holy place without endangerment, the mission of fetching it was entrusted to you. The tides of war will change in the demons’ favor the moment you take it outside of the divine temple. You scour your panicked thoughts for something, anything that should or could work.

And then you decide. It is a wholly stupid, brash idea, but it is an idea.

“What’s wrong?” you taunt the angel, flourishing your sword before her. “Scared you’ll lose to a human?”

Her grip tightens on her halberd, nearly cracking the shaft. All semblance of the priestess’ restraint seems to have dissipated in the span of a moment. All three of her faces twist in what can only be described as blinding rage. You prepare yourself.

“Why you -- you --” the divine fire of her halos intensifies, nearly singeing the edge of a tapestry, “-- YOU INSOLENT BRUTE! WORTHLESS ANIMAL! BURN!”

She lunges forward. Again you manage to dodge the blow, shifting to one side, but the priestess angles herself at the last moment. The tip of her halberd pierces the flesh of your thigh, preventing you from moving further in the direction of the artifact. You cry out in pain. The priestess plants a kick on your sternum to release your body from the blade, treating you as if you were truly a mindless beast, and it is only a second before you feel your body crack against the stone wall behind you. The world goes white.

When your vision finally clears -- perhaps after a second or so -- you discern the angel standing before you as she had before. This time, however, her halberd is raised much higher in the air, and her eyes burn with murderous intent. Whereas she may have spared your life before or left for you dead, you are sure that she would much rather burn you alive this time. The entirety of the halberd ignites, divine flames engulfing the weapon. The blaze is reflected in all three of her gazes.

The angel looks upon you with terrible disdain. Your body seizes with cold, abject fear.

“May you rest in peace.”

And then she thrusts the weapon downwards. Your skin can already feel the kiss of the heat. You close your eyes and accept your fate, readying yourself for the impact.

It never comes.

There is the sensation of air. The sound of unfurling wings, the scent of rose water, the silhouette of a slender, almost girlish body pressed against yours. You hear the crack of a blade colliding into marble once more, spat-out curses of the angel, and the soft laughter of one that you know so well. The flame of your pact burns, signalling the proximity of one of the demons. Unlike the holy fire of the angels -- which only devours and takes -- this one is much more similar to the gentle warmth of a candle. A small, unobtrusive wick, ignited.

You open your eyes to see a very, very familiar face.

Asmodeus grins down at you. “Came just in time, didn’t I?”

“Asmo, you -- you shouldn’t be here!” Your eyes widen at the realization of the pain that Asmodeus must have subjected himself to -- a fact that is only proven by the divine air nibbling at his flesh. The wounds burn and knit themselves over and over again as you regard him with horror. “Get out of here! If you stay here, you’ll --”

Asmo silences you with a kiss. Hushes you. Despite the excruciating pain he must be in, he only continues to beam at you. A finger brushes away a stray lock at your cheek.

“You don’t have to fight for me,” he says softly. “Darling, I would burn down the three realms for you.”

You discern the shape of the angelic priestess standing to full height somewhere behind Asmo. Asmo follows your gaze before placing you gently on the ground. A book -- the artifact, you realize -- is pressed into your hands. You can only watch as Asmo turns to face his opponent, a demonic weapon already materializing into his hands. His palms are blistered and raw.

The angelic priestess regards Asmo with pure, unfiltered hatred, slamming her halberd against the ground. “Disgraced, wretched creature,” she addresses him. “If only He could see you now. If only He could see how putrid and repulsive you have become. We were all sure you and your brothers had perished when we cast you out from the heavens, demon. I see now that you have suffered a much worse fate.”

Asmo only laughs. “I believe this human here would disagree on the repulsive part,” he says, now brandishing his own weapon. “In my opinion, I’m much more beautiful now than I ever was up here.”

Asmo catches and parries the priestess’ halberd in an instant, doing his best to maneuver her away from you. It is a decision that costs him: the divine blaze of her spear singes his skin, causing him to wince -- but he does not relent. With a well-placed attack of his own, he is able to push her away from both you and the exit of the temple. Given that the priestess has made no move to stop you, it seems that she has not realized yet that the artifact is in your possession.

Asmo casts only the barest of glances towards you and the exit. You need no further encouragement.

Time passes in a blur. Yet you are able to hold onto the sensation of your pact with Asmo, the sign burning as brightly and vividly as a flame. As long as you can hold onto that part of your conscience, the proof that Asmo is still alive and fighting, you can push yourself forward. And so you clutch the artifact to your chest and run forward, your vision becoming blurry and unfocused from the loss of blood. You stagger to the exit of the temple and feel your body being pulled to some hiding place by an ally, your thoughts still concentrated on the flame. Even as the war rages around you, the shouts of angels and cries of the devils hammering in your ears, you are at peace with the sensation.

Something is pressed and tied around your bleeding thigh. You begin to fade in and out of consciousness.

Your leg twitches. A demon -- Mammon, perhaps, or Beel -- says something to you, soft and encouraging. You can’t discern the message.

A rattle shakes you nearly to waking. You can’t feel your leg anymore. Perhaps it has fallen asleep.

There is something wet next to you. Something is being taken away from you, something important, but a nagging feeling at the back of your mind tells you that it would be better not to resist. You allow the object to be lifted from your hands.

Your body is being moved elsewhere. You have long lost the ability to fight it. Your incapacitated form is carried and given to someone else, the ground moving beneath you, and then --

And then.

Your eyelids flicker. The fire of that pact that had once burned within you becomes extinguished. You reach for it, desperate, but it only fades to nothing. A flame, smothered. It fights again and again, struggling to keep itself ignited -- but then there is a final show of force. The air of an execution.

And just like that, the candle goes out.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #asmo #asmodeus #obey me!#ask #obey me fanfic #obey me writing #obey me oc #obey me mc

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lucidpantone · 4 years

Note

I know this is a controversial question so i would totally understand if you choose not want to answer, but im curious enough to ask anyway. Can you rank your fav remakes in order? Maybe add a comment about what you most appreciate about each remake (to soften the blow of any sensitive readers). Ofc if you couldnt connect with a remake you might wanna totally leave it out of the ranking...

Disclaimer this is gonna be long asf. So I like all the remakes so this is gonna be hard because of that. I don’t like one remake in its entirety I can find one season in each remake I wasn’t super stoked about and if you’re skamfr I can find 3 seasons hahah. So I am actually gonna do this by fav original 1-4 seasons and original seasons (OG excluded).

Season 1: Eva Skam Espana (Isa SkamNL is a super close 2nd)

I am gonna be frank my least fav season is Eva’s season in the original seasons. I don't dislike the plot its more like I just find the other plots of the other seasons way more interesting. However if I am gonna pick my fav adaptation its gonna be Eva from Espana. Mainly because some remakes take their jonas to far and they don’t know how to balance being inexperienced and immature with just being a plain dick (am looking at you wtfock and Austin). I hate when remakes take it to far and make the couple completely irredeemable. Also Jorge is just the best man. He tries so hard for Eva he tries to make things right and its just timing, immaturity on both parts. Also I love that above all Eva and Jorge are friends. Alongside with Lucas they are just like family and they can push aside their personal issues to be their for one another and I just think thats such a beautiful quality in Jorge and Eva.They both have good souls and I am happy they ended up together but I also feel like if they didn't they would be genuinely be happy for the other if they found someone else and fell in love and thats why I love them so much.

Season 2: Zoe Wtfock (but Nora Skam Espana is a close 2nd)

Here is what I love about Zoe’s season is that we see the pov of not just how Zoe was changing because she was opening herself to love but also how much Senne was changing as well and trying to address some issues he had been ignoring because he wanted to be a better man for Zoenne. For me Zoenne and Norandro are so amazing for this reason. We not only saw the girl processing how love was effecting her development but we got to experience Senne and Alejandro trying to become better men and really transitioning from boyhood to manhood via this self assessment period of themselves. I adore these two couples for this because I am so heavily invested in both the outcome of the girl and the guy. I guess with love stories there is that saying there is two sides to a story and then there is the truth and I feel like the noorhelm storyline has always been about hard truths. About young women challenging their perspectives on feminism, about young women acknowledging when they have been a victim of a crime/emotional abuse and not blaming themselves for it but knowing that they did nothing wrong and were undeserving of the act that took place. Also s2 plays on the concepts of manhood too. How approaching situations through the lens of rage and violence can develop into harmful and even predatory tendencies. Overall these two remakes stand out to me because they really speak to the lesson of how does one define themself in the whirlwind of love and what boundaries do you need to set so you don’t lose yourself in the process. Season 3: IT’S SO HARD PICKING JUST ONE!! (Am going to base this selection entirely off my fav Isak and their narrative arc versus the evak pairing because ultimately this season is about the Isak character not Isak & Even) Matteo Druck

Let me tell you no other Skam character has haunted me as much as Matteo. I think with Matteo his story was just so raw and unfiltered. Here was this boy he was so lonely, isolated, lost and really just didn’t think he was worthy of much. Matteo was approaching life expecting the bare minimum because he in many ways didn’t think he was deserving of much more. Matteo hid himself so deeply in what I refer to as the wall paper of life. Trying to blend in and stay invisible even tho this way of thinking was seriously effecting his mental health. I don't think he realized how far from shore he was before David slammed into his life and drag him out of the grip of the ocean’s current. Matteo was on the verge of drowning he just didn’t know it. And then came David and he just loved Matteo as is and I think a big reason for that is because no one had ever told either boy that they were perfect just as they were until they said it to one another. Both boys were going through life just accepting the bare minimum one because of societal barricades around gender and the other societal stigma concerning asking for help when suffering from mental health issues. In the end they found one another and said fuck it and fuck society as long as we have one another then we’re gonna get through this. However... having said that davenzi is not my fav evak pairing but Matteo is my fav standalone Isak. The prize for fav evak tho would go to Sobbe because I literally can’t picture two more in love people. Man the day Sobbe met I feel like inertia collapsed in on itself in their respective worlds. It really was the case that time stopped and that they were destined to find one another. They are so in love it just radiates off them. Also random note my fav Even is Joana. Hence why choosing an s3 is so hard because I like different components of s3 seasons.

Season 4: Sana Skam Italia

(this is a copy/paste my original why I love Italia s4 rant)

Say what you want about the casting(this is a fair argument) but I am really happy that SKAMIT gave us a love story centered around two muslim individuals and their differing approaches and interpretations of Islam. I think for me its that we are always trying to dilute Sana’s season with this western need to educate non-muslims and though I appreciate that I also want to see a love story that’s purely about the journey of young muslims and the issues they experience themselves and not via a western glazing. The thing that stood out for me in SKAMIT is how many different perspective of how Islam is practiced came to the forefront. Sana’s journey to understand and come to defend queerness. Muslim men (Sana’s brother) being offended because she assumed he was homophobic. Laui being in a healthy relationship as a muslim queer man. Malik openly talking about Islam and his separation from it but still a believer in a greater power(and not because he wants to drink and party). For me this was what the Sana season was suppose to be about putting the muslim experience front and center and unapologetically so.

Original Season: Nora Druck

I mean what a fantastic take on building new and improved squads with more diversity in race, sexual preferences and perspectives. I will say that I also do like the new squad from Skamfr. Its nice to see newgens that am truly excited about getting to know. Like I need to know everything about Ava pronto she is bae. I do have one random surprise about my next fav original season which for me would be Arthur for Skamfr. Honestly if we would have gutted the cheating plot we would have had a really interesting season about a young adult’s life being rocked by disability and trying to find themselves in this new landscape. Similar to Nora in Druck with MI and also the long term effects of experiencing violence in the household in Skamfr but yea so far Druck has been the only one to get a sound original season out and they should be commended for that.

#lucidpantone anons

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theholyyuunoaduck · 4 years

Text

Purpouse......every living thing has it but what is it thats what we all search for what we all crave

Perhaps life is just all of searching for that very thing that gives it meaning so what might be yours....hm?

Copper thats all that was registering towards his senses the taste

The smell full of copper yuu was suspended in the air by his friends possessed body being held by the throat beaten badly the remenants of his sword formed of salt began to crumble yet his hand gripped and gripped the handle of his blade as if it would somehow save everyone and everything the markings across his body from the curse began to receed

"Ah...i wish the sky was blue instead of this red shade" he would think to himself

"You know its rude to ignore the one you love when they ask you something" her voice or perhaps his voice reverberated in his ears the melodic tone of shigamas vocal cords ran through his brain sounding like the mix of the both of them

Go......to hell...

Hmm intresting

Shigama braught yuu's face closer to the body of the possessed girl with lilac hair her wings seemed to suspend them both in the air looking as if her lips were mere inches from his as her lips parted revealing her fangs

What makes you think this isnt hell already

Her lips curled around his exposed neck but stopped midway as her body shook ever so slightly as if there was a break sputtering towards a stop

H..haha...still trying to fight are you shinoa....just stay asleep for a while longer....it'll all be over soon

Yuu now!! A voice entered yuu's mind as if the words were always there the familiar voice of his demon called out to him they wouldn't receive this chance again and yuu knew it

There was no time for hesitation

No room to falter right now everything had been entrusted to him guren his freinds his family everyone was counting on him the entire world but most importantly shinoa was counting on him and he knew this as his blade peirced her heart before shi could regain control of the body he so longed for the perfect vessel as he would always call it

Gh! H-how dare you..! The angelic figure sputtered and coughed blood doing his best to pull away but yuu wouldnt let him get away they both began to fall together towards the fall however this was of no concern to yuichiro as he closed his eyes and took another deep breath within himself

The wind blew through his hair and the sweet scent of roses tickled his nostrils as he opened his eyes he no longer found himself within the world only humans new the plane of existence we could all see and feel now he was within her heart asuramaru had been right this was the only way to enter her heart the sensation falling did not leave him as he looked around the white cloudy noise that seemed to perfiate all around him he was now within the demons heart and his destination where the iron doors leading to the heart of another the source of the sickly sweet smell of petals dancing in the wind his wounds had healed and he felt as if there was nothing that could stop him however he knew this to be far from the truth

Youll only have a few minutes before the angel takes over yuu...and once you give me to shinoa

Ill be gone....right we already know the plan....lets just hope i can do this....

We will....

Right......yuu's eyes no longer held the depth of despair and emptiness his eyes gleamed with new found determination and purpose everyone was counting on him

She is counting on him his eyes began to turn a shade of darkness that would swallow the ocean themselves leaving the iris of them stained with honey a sweet flavor perhaps the only sweet thing that could be said about all day since the fight had begun as he passed through the gates that seemed unmovible before his sense of balance began to shift as if the earth within their hearts rotated and started pulling him up rather than gravity pulling him down and there he was the vestige of everything leading up to this moment all the suffering the pain the loss all of it culminated before his eyes the angel seemed to not have noticed but only a naive fool would beleive in those thoughts it was more accurate to say he did not acknowledged his existence as a threat chosing instead to keep his back turned consuming his long awaited prize blood trickling from his fangs as he panted and let go of the milky white skin of shinoa's neck perverted by the crimson wholes that gave evidence of shigama's testiment towards the word vampire

Shinoa was slumped over chained to pillars as if she was long gone but the world around them the deep red rather than the white skys would say other wise his senses were now more in tune due to the curse and the angel that the boy seemed to be comprised of his ears could catch it the faint yet evident beating of her heart so much of it had already been consumed by the demon a tenth maby even less had remained of the girl and this infuriated him to no end his teeth grinded his fists clenched as he stared down the monster before him the fight against time.....the fight to save her heart her very existence was about to begin and the odds had never been stacked higher against him and he knew this his breath hitched but from what he could not descern from fear? Fear of what? Fear of death? He had died before multiple times in fact no he did not fear death....there was only one word that could describe this feeling

Anger

Pure unfiltered rage thats all that clouded his mind the images playing freshly within his mind of shigamas pale lips against her neck the deep gnashes within his friends his father were they dead? He couldn't think of such things right now

He needed to focus

Thats right yuu focus your attention here...right now for this will be....your final death......the beautifull angel turned to look towards his creation

I will be God by the end of this ba-

He could not finish the words before yuu charged him focusing everything he had towards his speed pushing him farther and farther towards the open gates he had tried so long to open yet could never so much as budge them he was surely suprised by this development as he flapped his wings open hoping to stop the momentum of yuu's wings and physical strength that focused on the point of his neck it was obvious what his goal was remove him.from the heart of his beloved

GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

The room filled with his anger his rage but it would not be enough as his heels began to screetch against the walls that were stained red signifying shinoa's humanity

ASURA-KANNON: THOUSAND BLADES

Yuu yelled at the top of his lungs with such force the taste of copper began to fill his mouth again

Thousands of blades appeared from nowhere and everywhere all of them fixed on a single point aimed and poised towards one objective

FORCE HIM OUT

Yuu yelled once again as the blades all flew towards the pair that seemed to slow in their stop every milla second that passed

Youre desperate.... He said calmly as the blades began hurdling towards him causing smoak to rise with each blade hitting him causing his body to take another screetching inch backwards towards the door

He was right yuu knew this all too well this wasnt a sign of strength being able to push shigama doji back this was an act of desperation forcing every muscle strand to strain and pop all in the vain effort to force him out as fast as he could before his body would give out

Klank the final blade hit the floor with the sound that seemed to echo once again deepening yuu's despair he gasped looking up as shigama slapped him across the face sending him huddling towards the spot where this all began rolling through the floor he gasped coming out of the ground panting the dust just begginging to settle

Fuck....

Mmm smart....but that was all instinct wasnt it yuichiro

Had you not blocked that attack when you had

The dust revealed yuichiro's mangled arm that seemed to be a simple cracker after dropping it from the empire state while the other was completely grinded to dust

Youd have lost your head.....

It was a good attempt dont get me wrong...futile as it may have been

Yuu began to wobble back to his feet the blade of salt begginging to form within his palm

Oh please...shigama crossed the distance between the both of them within the flash of a second split by the same blade that so desperately tried to sever his head and push him back a second ago

The explosion of the impact destroyed the pillars holding shinoa down crushing her body underneath the same pillars and sent yuichiros blade flying through the air slicing it and landing near her viscinity

Atop him was the angel that seemed to toy with him yuu's hands seemed to bearly hold hi head away from him

N-nghh!! His grunts where loud and strained he gasped as shi's needle like fangs punctured his neck like wet paper he gasped in pain and tugged at the hair of the beast his body began to go limp as he looked towards shinoa for what felt like would be the last time....how many times has he failed her in such a way..

Shi...shinoa..!....please..!

His hand outstretched towards the rubble and his blade

Shinoa...please was all that she could hear where was she was this a dream it sure felt like one weightless and without strength as if no matter how hard her fists would move itd feel as if something held her force back within a dream but she willed every finger every fiber of her being to reach towards the emerald blade so close to her if only she could reach out for it

Yuu's vision began to fade towards black perhaps this was finally the time to resign there would be no happy ending no hero saving the day after all he aways wasn't much of a hero the real hero to him had always been

Her

His eyes shot up as wide as they could possibly go to see the strands of lilac push against the winds of fate as his head rung from the blow and her battle cry she was doing it she peirced the blade through the monsters shoulder and pushed him towards his destination

HRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

She yelled at the top of her lungs pushing and pushing once again shigama flapped his majestic wings but this time in desperation

Shit!! Stop!

GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

shi turned his head to witness the monester that yelled that same cry once again the angel he had created charged at the both of them and held tight to the appendages that begged to be let go in order to stop the flow of motion however

HAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

GRAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

They yelled in unison as they both with all their combined might threw the first outside the walls and quickly shut behind them the world no longer red but white they had succeded in the first step to victory the first shook in anger and looked towards his hands that trembled but not shierly of anger nor fear but from weakness having been ripped out of his hosts perfect body essentially split his power by half...the other half found its way towards their true owner as she puffed her chest with her trademark smirk

The balls on our side now...

Grr....dont be so cocky now..ive been in before and ill return once more

The both of them stood up panting staring down their assailent hearts quivering in anticipation at what would be undoubtedly their final confrontation as their eyes glossed over with determination and anger every emotion culminated in thousands of years burned within their eyes as they stood up slowly

I forgot who asked me to write what i would think about would be the ending of owari no seraph and i have to say sorry!! Dyslexia is a bitch!! If you remmember who you are please slap me for forgetting

Anyway to keep my stories fresh ill be posting it in peices

#owari no seraph #seraph of the end #yuichiro hyakuya #shinoa hiiragi #shikama doji

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mortisbane · 4 years

Note

If you’re still doing the WIP Title Game, would you mind talking about Blackmail AU?

There’s not a whole lot to be said about the Blackmail AU. Its an AU where Nightswan discovers that Thrawn and Eli are a couple, which due to the Empire's no fraternization between ranks AND between aliens, is a double whammy of code violations. More than enough to get them arrested and stripped of rank. For Eli, maybe even treason, which could lead to execution without trial. Nightswan takes this information and his evidence to Thrawn, threatening to expose it to the high command, who were itching for an excuse to get rid of him, unless he does everything Nightswan demands. Thrawn could take being removed from the Empire, either the Emperor would save him, or he'd just go back to the Ascendency with this as a failed mission. But there's Eli, he'd lose his carer, his standing in Imperial space, and possibly his life if Nightswan exposes them. So for once, Thrawn has no choice but to submit.

I don’t know if I’ll ever actually do anything with this so I’ll just put what I do have under the cut for anyone to read.

Thrawn and Eli had felt some sort of spark back at the Academy, but neither acted on it, Thrawn for worry of pushing Eli, and Eli because he felt his and Thrawn's time was limited. After being assigned to the Blood Crow, and calming down about being assigned as Thrawn's aide, they both started looking at the prospect of furthering their friendship. Their emotions don't come clear until they're on the Thunder Wasp. It was Eli who confessed his feelings to Thrawn late one night, when their conversations had turned too personal. Thrawn shares his reciprocations. However, they both hesitated knowing the Empire's ban against relationships between different ranks, and Eli looks further into the policy of aliens, making them both too concerned to take the risk with the severity of the latter. However, after Thrawn is given Command of the Thunder Wasp, they finally feel safe enough that they could continue a relationship in secret, being Thrawn's aide made it easier.

However, Nightswan has been keeping close tabs on Thrawn and Eli since the Dromedar incident, seeing Thrawn both as a roadblock and a tool he could use, and Eli an extension of Thrawn's own power, so he never kept them too far from sight. Gathering data and other sorts of information on them trying to find his best weapon to come at Thrawn with. In his many searches, one thing grabbed his attention, something relatively inconspicuous but stood out like a bright indicator. Nightswan, using some of his splicer friends, had tapped into Imperial records, extracting activity he linked to Thrawn and Eli. Particularly one inquiry towards relations between Imperial officers and aliens. Now why would the duo, consisting of Imperial officer and alien need to know that? And that was all the spark he needed to realize what was going on. From there he tailored his searching and information gathering to gather proof of an against regulation relationship between the two.

His proof came almost too easy. No doubt they had become complacent, believing they were in such a situation where they were beyond detection. And they were, but only from the Empire, not from people like Nightswan. Thrawn had taken shore leave, the first and only he'd ever taken since joining the Empire, and of course, requested his Aide join him. To any Imperial officer or member of the high command, the request made perfect sense and roused no suspicion, Nightswan knew better. He tracked down the request, the time of departure and destination with a few paid off favors to his more shady of comrades. Lysatra, an odd place Thrawn would choose to visit during his short shoreleave, far out of the way, no it had to have been for Vanto, who hailed from that world. If Vanto had made the request and subsequent one of taking Thrawn along, that would be suspicious, but when Thrawn, the superior officer did it, it was natural.

Following them to Lysatra was the easy part. Not many ships frequented the area, Nightswan arrived long before their scheduled time, and staked out the docs waiting for them. Dropped off by Imperial shuttle, which stayed just long enough for the duo to unload before leaving. They were already changed into their civilian clothes, and as soon as the shuttle left, they looked just like any other citizen of the Empire. And thankfully for Nightswan, the two wasted no time in dropping their formalities. Most likely thinking they were safe on Eli's home world, a place with no Imperial presence, the shorter Human grabbed hold of Thrawn's hand, and pulled the alien down for a kiss. Nightswan took many pictures the three days the two were on Lysatra. Getting close to the Vanto's residence, where they stayed, was difficult, but with the two senior Vanto's running a business, that left the total in the household most of the day to two. In three days, Nightswan had more than enough proof to have the entire high command arrest Thrawn individually.

But that wasn't his goal, he didn't want Thrawn just out of the picture, no with the power he had, he could control Thrawn. What was better than an intelligent Imperial officer off your back? Said Imperial officer working for you. Nightswan knew how to get Thrawn's attention, he just needed to get the two of them to speak. He got the Thunder Wasp to investigate some illegal dealings on the first planet he could find along their patrol route, that was the easy part. But Nightswan knew Thrawn more than most people around him probably did, their intelligence, their method of thinking and planning, they were similar. And he knew that if he requested dialogue, Thrawn would be eager to accept it. He would regret that. And sure enough, sending a private decrypted message to Thrawn's office, which was far easier than it should have been, Thrawn opened the channel immediately.

"Good evening, Captain." He says the moment the transmission links. Thrawn seems just as calm and controlled as usual, Nightswan couldn't help but smirk, thinking of pulling one over on the damn Imperial.

"Nightswan," Thrawn answers, "Good evening. What has brought you to me?" Nightswan's smile only grew as he transferred over a datafile. He heard precisely when Thrawn received it.

"This." He got a front row seat to Thrawn's pure unfiltered reaction. All of his documentation, all his proof of Thrawn and Eli's fraternization. The alien's eyes widened a fraction before narrowing into a tight glare, Nightswan only smiled.

"How have you come into possession of this?"

"I have my ways. I will submit this datafile, of which I have numerous copies, to Imperial high command, you and your aide will be arrested on charges of breaking Imperial regulations, and your aide may even come under charges of treason. Unless you follow my orders, to the letter and without hesitation, understand?"

"Blackmail? I had believed you to have more honor than-"

"As I see it, this is just my way of outsmarting my opponent. You have until the end of this rotation to agree to my terms or I will send out that datafile." As much as he wanted to watch Thrawn rage, rant, or try and outsmart him back, Nightswan disconnected the transmission leaving Thrawn to stew.

Thrawn sits in his office chair for two full hours, trying to think of a plan to stop Nightswan. But without knowing where he is, or where all his copies of this data file were, there wasn't anything in his power he could do. This was one of those scenarios where a Warrior's smartest plan would be to pull back and restrategize. But there was Eli, as well as his own people who were counting on him. Eli certainly would come under high commands hammer, and most likely would receive the worst blow of all, losing his life. Thrawn couldn't be pinned with treason for this, it was a relatively minor transgression, one plenty of officers surely committed in a largely corrupt Empire. But Thrawn already wasn't in any good graces of high command, who had been waiting for Thrawn to slip up so they could finally remove him. Eli however, could be called under treason, for willingly joining with an alien, Imperial Officer or not, if high command could arrest him for treason, and they would, giving them authority to execute Eli on the spot. He couldn't let that happen to him, he refused. But he also couldn't pack up and defect with Eli, his people needed him. All of his time was spent trying to gauge and cultivate the Empire to his needs to aid them, he couldn't leave or it would all be for nothing and the galaxy at large could be open to utter destruction. So, despite the absolute disgust he had for this, Thrawn sent Nightswan a single message response across the transmission line.

'I accept'

Thrawn starts acting differently, not by a lot, but enough for Eli to pick up on it. He's making stupid mistakes, ones Eli knew that Thrawn wouldn’t make. He's overlooking things, and when Eli calls attention to them, Thrawn disregards it. He's acting like any mindless Imperial, completely unlike himself. But not just during work, he seems so much sadder than before, more reserved, like he's hiding something from Eli specifically. In their time alone, all Thrawn does is hold him tightly, like he's afraid Eli will suddenly disappear. This behavior goes on for a time, Eli had hoped Thrawn would get through this weird phase, but it only gets worse with time. After Eli is finally given his promotion to Lieutenant Commander and they move to the Chimaera, Thrawn begins broaching subjects such as Eli leaving the Empire. He doesn't understand why Thrawn would talk like that, sure Eli is very unhappy with the way things seem to be going with the Empire, but he just got his long awaited promotion, why would he leave now?

It eventually dawns on him, that whatever has made Thrawn act this way, it has to do with Nightswan, somehow. He only acts dumb when its missions that involve Nightswan, overlooks Nightswans movements, and had completely stopped asking Eli for updates on him. Whatever this is, Nightswan could be behind it. But why wouldn't Thrawn tell him, didn't he trust him? Eli finally confronts Thrawn about it, corners him in his quarters during one of their few moments of privacy together. But Thrawn doesn't tell him anything, he just pulls Eli into his arms, and whispers in a broken voice, "Please, I don't want to lose you." And it hurts Eli's heart so badly, that he doesn't press him any further. But he hasn't given up on it.

The time comes that the Batonn insurgents must be dealt with. He orders Faro away and is leading Eli to the smuggler freighter he had brought along, some plan in mind for it, when he suddenly receives a message on his datapad. All at once, he calls off whatever they were about to do, citing a change of plans and they’d be calling Faro back and returning to the Chimaera. He knows something's up, and he had one hunch of how to get to the bottom of it.

On their way back, Eli fakes some excuse of needing to retrieve some left behind data cards, a falsehood in its entirety, one That he sees makes Thrawn suspicious, but he's never had a reason to distrust Eli in the past and lets him go. He rushes back to the freighter, going off to do whatever Thrawn's plan had been. He knew that they were going to observe the battle, hopefully whatever Thrawn had suddenly wanted to avoid would be there. He was right, just before the battle was to commence, he spotted another freighter leaving the planet, that was his target. He hailed it, feeling his frustrations and anger outweighing his anxiety. The shuttle opens the channel, and Eli cuts off whatever they were about to say, "I'm Commander Vanto of the Imperial Navy, tell Nightswan I wanna talk with him." There's silence on the other end, no doubt Eli had blindsided them, but he was certain. Thrawn only acted strangely with matters surrounding Nightswan, and if this was the freighter Thrawn had been hoping to catch then they had to be with Nightswan. And if whatever Nightswan was doing could lead to Thrawn losing Eli, then obviously, Nightswan would relish the ability to get Eli on his own terf.

And Eli was right. The man on the other end told Eli to follow him and better not "do anything funny" and began their jump out of the system. Stamping down the last bit of anxiety in him, Eli followed, prepared to get to the bottom of this and solve it, or die trying.

He's brought aboard, searched by pirates and escorted by two back to where Nightswan no doubt would be. He had expected Nightswan to be shocked to see Eli there, or at least confused as to why Eli would suddenly waltz up to him. But he seemed completely calm, and as if he expected Eli to come to him.

"Welcome Commander Vanto." He greets as the two escorts sit Eli down in the chair across from him.

"Nightswan." He sneers. "What did you do to Thrawn?"

"Pardon?"

He gives Eli a coy smile. He slams a hand on the desk between them and hisses, "Cut the Kryate Spit, I know you've done something, and I'm not leaving until I know what." The two escorts move closer to restrain Eli, but Nightswan stops them and waves them off. Once along, he speaks again.

"It's funny you think I'd let you leave here alive."

"I know you will, because whatever you've done, I'm somehow collateral." Nightswan chuckled, lounging back in his chair.

"So Thrawn never told you I take it?"

"No, why else would I be here? Now talk." He barks, Nightswan's calmness really getting on his nerves.

"I don't think you're the one in any position to make demands. But I must say, you are awfully clever, I'm surprised it took you this long to do something."

"Cygni, answer me." The last one had to be hissed out from Eli's clenched teeth,

"Alright fine, I'm happy to get to show you myself." He pulls out his datapad, casually flipping through it before choosing some file and setting it down to display. And Eli's blood runs cold. Because everything makes itself clear in an instant. Nightswan had Thrawn pinned under his thumb with blackmail.

"Your blue lover has to answer my every demand, or else this file will be sent straight to high command. It's somewhat romantic if I'm being honest, he's more scared of you being executed for treason over this than fearful for whatever they might do to him." Eli stares down at the holo file, picture after picture, recording after recording of him and Thrawn, holding hands, kissing, numerous compromising positions that couldn't be denied, that not even Thrawn could talk his way out of. Emperor or no, this couldn't be ignored. Nightswan gave him a grin, crossing his arms casually over his chest.

"You followed us to Lysatra?" Eli whispers, disbelieving.

"I like to think of it as more, me constructing the perfect weapon against Thrawn."

Eli had a temper issue, he knew he did, his parents had told him, Thrawn had brought it up, his previous instructors had noticed, but he was always in control of himself to pull back his outbursts. But this was beyond any Human's ability.

"You Bastard!" He roars, leaping from his chair and across the desk in one swift move, knocking Nightswan to the ground. He reels back, and clocks him hard across the face with his fist. He does it again, and again and again before Nightswan even has a chance to react. He grabs Eli's next punch, glaring up at him, sneering with blood stained teeth.

"Hit me again and I'll send the file, kill me, and the file is already rigged to send. You are trapped Vanto, Thrawn is trapped. Our game of wits is over, I have all the cards!" Eli is breathing heavy, vision swimming red with rage, but despite it all, he smiles down at Nightswan.

"So you're saying I have at least a few weeks to pack up and defect before the high command gets around to doing anything with that information?" Nightswan's face drops. "Sounds like I have nothing to lose." He gets him across the face with another punch, using the disorientation to snag Nightswan's own blaster from his belt. "This is for Thrawn." He hisses, not hesitating to shoot the man directly between the eyes. Nightswan wasn't bluffing, he wasn't the man to do that, Eli was certain, he was running against the clock now. Thankfully, Nightswan's ship was large enough for Eli to sneak around his pirates, no one in a group larger than two, giving Eli ample opportunity to make it back to the hanger. The ship he'd come in was being searched, but one of the ships left on the farther edges was completely alone. He was able to commandeer the ship, leave the hangar and punch his coordinates in before anyone realized he was the one on board.

Thrawn was waiting for him when he returned, met him in the hangar of the Chimaera, looking at him in a way he never had before. He was angry. But he didn't say anything to him yet, instead, he silently led the way back to his office. Once alone in his office, Eli started.

"He's dead." Thrawn stared at him blankly for a moment. "I killed him Thrawn, and if he was telling the truth, we have limited time before high command receives and reviews his file."

"How could you do this Eli?" Thrawn sighs, some of his anger ebbing, but he was clearly still livid. Eli simply stepped closer to the Chiss, and gave him a hard slap across the face.

"How kirffing dare you keep this from me you daft idiot!" He shouts, grabbing Thrawn's cheeks and turning his head back towards him. Still seemingly in shock that Eli struck him he took a moment to respond.

"Eli I-"

"I know you feel the need to protect me or something, but we're a team Thrawn, a single entity with two minds. Never keep things from me, ever again." Slowly Thrawn nodded.

"I am sorry Eli."

"I'm sorry for hitting you also, even though you deserved it. Now, we gotta go."

"I had hoped that there was another option for us, I was not prepared to give up on the Empire quite yet, but it seems we have no choice now."

"No we have a choice, together at least, now get packing." Thrawn leaned down, and Eli met him half way in a gentle kiss. "Stars, I love you." He sighs, smiling as Thrawn smiles down at him.

"As do I love you Eli."

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solarbird · 6 years

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The Armourer and the Living Weapon, Chapter 6: I see what you see in her

I'm several chapters ahead of what's posted, and that's really starting to bother me? So I'm going to be posting a little more often for a bit - maybe every four or five days instead of weekly. Not sure yet. We'll see. ^_^

[AO3 link]

"Even aside from her unique skills, she is quite pretty... and enthusiastic... I can see what you see in her." Oilliphéist smiled, gliding the tip of one blade along the unconscious Lena Oxton's neck.

Widowmaker could only glare, bound and gagged - not helpless, not for long, and her lover didn't pretend to think she was, but it would be a while, so the senior assassin glared, and glared hard, while working at her bonds, not even pretending not to.

"Oh, love, don't worry, I didn't lie to you - I really don't mind! In another world, another time, I could even see myself loving her, too... but... here, I'm afraid I don't." She looked up at her beloved, and grinned, broadly, an idea, "...at least, not as she is now. But we can bring her back with us!" she said, quickly. "It's not part of my mission, but I'm flexible, you know that - she could join us. With just a few changes, a few improvements - she could become one of us."

The ambush - Widowmaker didn't know how it was possible for anyone to be so fast. They'd met, at the pub, as planned, and she and Lena had it it off right away, surprising them both, surprising Widowmaker herself. Everything had felt so strangely... normal. It felt almost like being back on base, in the canteen, with Lena instead of Sombra, her sense of humour different, but not that different. Then, to Lena's apartment, for more explicit discussion, for discussions not meant for public spaces...

The gas that took down Lena, that, she understood. But the silent attack from behind - that mystified her, still. No whip of chain, none of the snap of Lena's teleporting, or hiss of Reaper's smoke - just zip, and a knockout blow before she could even turn.

The silver-eyed assassin had tilted her head, looking at the Overwatch agent. She could see it, now, the copper-eyed girl, with hair so blue as almost black, skin the colour of the deepest sky on the warmest day, teleporting, dancing with time, herding some targets in, finishing ones that somehow fell out of their sights - nothing could escape her. Nothing would escape them.

She reached down with her right hand, still smiling, gently cupping the Briton's cheek with her hand. "I know my weapons. She would be ... truly magnificent."

"Y'know the trouble with you, mate?" Tracer's eyes snapped open. "You talk too much." The teleporter teleported, and was all at once on the far side of the room, pistols out.

"Oh!" replied the newer assassin. "Did I misjudge the dose?" She sheathed her knives and flipped her rifle around, again impossibly fast, pointing it at the bound Widowmaker. "That's fine, we can play it this way, too."

"No!" Tracer didn't lower her guns, but didn't fire, either. "Don't you even think it!" Widowmaker tried, as hard as she could, to signal - She won't. Call her bluff. Call it. Please. - but that's so much to convey just with eyes and a nod.

"Oh, Lena, I don't want to, you know that! She's told you so much, I'm sure, and it's all true - it'd be like killing myself, and I love myself, I don't want to kill me, much less her. But I needed you to freeze, so I could talk to you, and she needs to come home, where she belongs. And she wants you so much, almost as much as she wants me, and... we can do that! I wasn't lying either, I'm more than happy to share, and the three of us on the field, her at distance, me at midrange, you close-in and melee - we'd be legendary."

I should just shoot her, the teleporter thought, but... dammit, Wids, you have the worst taste in women... sorta... c'mon, Lena, dig... "Take her back to Talon, to have everything she's achieved wiped away? Doesn't sound like much of a deal to me. And what happened to our little truce?"

"Wiped...? No!" She laughed. "Of course not. No, no, no, I couldn't stand for that, either, not for a moment!" She leaned over and gently kissed Widowmaker's forehead, as she struggled at her bonds. "Never, love. You have done so much for me, how could I even imagine betraying you? Never think that."

I believe you, the senior assassin realised, glancing up at her lover's eyes. I... do, and her struggles ceased, just for a moment, before she went back to it. But don't do this. Don't.

"As for the truce - I wanted to, I really did, but I have a mission. I can't... I can't not complete it. She has to come home."

Where the hell are you, cowboy?! Lena's eyes flicked to a small panel at the end of the hall. Purple. The silent alarm tripped, just gotta stall her, keep her talking... "If we take her back, they'll recondition her again. You have to know it. You saw it, with Amélie. You helped."

"I know - and look at who we made!" she said, gesturing proudly. "Don't you understand? Do you really think I'd let them wipe her out, let them wrap her back up inside herself, undo the unfolding I helped make happen? " The Irish dragon laughed. "Never."

Lena regarded the once-ginger assassin with confusion. She still has freckles, she noticed, distractedly. "And how, exactly, d'ya plan to stop 'em?" She swallowed. "Look, Emily, this doesn't have to go this way. Neither of you have to go back to Talon. She's not the only one we could give sanctuary."

Oilliphéist smirked, but even that was half a smile. How can she be so... happy about this? thought the teleporter, as the living weapon said, "Ooooh, I see - we aren't going back to Talon, you silly girl. We're going back to Moira, where she'll do more wonderful things for all of us! Then - only then - we'll take on Talon." The smirk in the smile vanished, her expression now pure and joyous. "And it'll be so much easier with a fourth weapon on our side..."

This is a... recruitment pitch? Tracer shook her head, just a little. "You're... trying to sell me on the idea that you're trying to take down Talon, and... you want my help?"

"Take down? No, no. Take over. Different."

"Why should I take sides in some bloody Talon civil war?"

"Because Akande wants to start a second Omnic crisis to 'test' humanity, and Moira thinks that's a stupid waste of resources. And also," she said, as Tracer felt the sting on the back of her neck, "because she's already here." Lena, sadly, didn't hear that last part, but it didn't matter, not really.

Widowmaker shrieked around her gag, eyes filled with pure, unfiltered rage, as Moira O'Deorain stepped through the balcony doorway, a small Oasis flyer hovering just outside. "I'm sorry I'm late, dear - I ran into an old friend from Blackwatch on the way over." She answered Widowmaker's look of anguish with a wry glance of her own. "He was never half as subtle as he liked to think, but he'll be awake again in a few hours. Call it... professional courtesy." She looked back to her niece. "We should hurry, though - Winston will be here very soon." Another dart, and Widowmaker's thoughts fell away.

Oilliphéist frowned, saying, "No. Do nothing to her. We agreed," and Moira waved her hands dismissively. "It's just a tranquilliser to make her easier to transport, nothing psychoactive."

She walked over to the unconscious teleporter, kneeled down to look her over, and after a moment, smiled widely up to her newest creation. "You're quite right, though," she said, pleased. "The risk was worth it. This one... she will make a most magnificent weapon."

#gingerspider #widowtracer #moira o'deorain #moira overwatch #talon!emily #widowmaker #tracer #emily oilliphéist gardner #overwatch #overwatch au #also on ao3 #oilliphéist

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ecoamerica · 2 months

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calcinators-blog · 7 years

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Two Irons (Part 2.)

In a progressive gradient of pale yellow to pink, a single wave of spark broke through into your peripheral vision. Hundreds of tiny flashes, bursting and burning like micro-fireworks, washed over you. The sparks, falling through the air and creating fragile ribbons of light, had escaped the antechamber that Matt had only just disappeared into while in pursuit of Nines, with the matched enthusiasm of a flame chasing a fuse. FN-2199 had indiscreetly been the cause of antagonism, fully oblivious to what his antics set in motion and the impossibility of being followed by the crimson plasma blade.

To the best of your understanding, prior to ignition, there had been confrontational voices and a short, heated exchange. You had picked out the sound of both Nines and Matt, as the two likely had a word with each other. Although, as you went to move your head, to tilt your ear in the direction of the employee common room out of equal parts curiosity and panic, you found it remained stationary against your will. Blinking, unnerved for a good moment or two at the alien sensation, you tried once again. It was only then in testing your range of motion were you aware that your entire being had become unresponsive. After a number of other failed trials, you established that the extent of control you still retained had been in your capacity to blink, otherwise, your limbs had felt present but your muscles nonexistent.

For no discernible purpose or reason, Matt had had immobilized you. Simply because your body, hardwired to either fight or flee, was frozen solid, you began to feel all the unpleasant manifestations of fear. Matt— Kylo Ren— was living up to his legend.

No one could deny what the Commander was capable of. How he was able to bend the very air around his opposition, without so much as lifting a finger. For what rare information the First Order would disclose, it was made abundantly clear to you to stay out of his way. On no circumstances were you do something as heinous as purposely provoking his senseless temper, as there was no guarantee that any salvageable part of you would be left for a proper burial. Likewise, if you were to ever find him, already caught in a fit of rage, you were conditioned to immediately retreat and inform your superior officer. The broken equipment, as expensive as it was, could be shredded as easily as a body, regardless of stormtrooper fortifications. You tried to eschew and discard the notion of Matt completely and publicly gutting Nines, only through denial that he would blazon his identity.

And while you pushed the visual of carnage to the back of your brain, the appropriate rationale to absolve yourself of guilt began to work its way through you. Of course, from the warnings you had accumulated, there was no curiosity or existing capacity for you to test the Commander’s patience. You didn't need to see or feel his might to believe he could live up to his allegory. If anything, you were happy to avoid him completely; a quiet relief fell upon all of Starkiller when he had left the premise.

Nines had been the one to provoke him, sure, but even then it was unintentional and therefore the blame you wanted to place on him fell through the cracks of reasoning. You couldn't look at your friend and find responsibility for your current situation; Nines was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He, nor the collective population or the Order, had enough backbone to knowingly haze the Commander.

Well— there was only a singular instance of someone intentionally trying to get a rise out of Kylo Ren. The incident was one that you hadn't been witness to, but didn't need to be in order to understand the impact of it all. Each person who offered a retelling to you would inflate the story with different details, yet, all ended in the same gruesome fashion. You understood that subsequently there had been a turbulent disagreement between what the General and Captain believed, versus Commander Ren. It seemed that both General Hux and Captain Phasma still placed value on human lives, whereas Kylo Ren saw nothing. Lieutenant Colonel Zack, arguably affected the most in the matter, was still struggling with the loss of his son and would become difficult to locate when the Commander would make a routine patrol through the winding complex.

Though you had been told countless times, none had hinted what you should do if ever faced with his pure, unfiltered rage. None had explained the helplessness, vulnerability, or even hinted the way your mind would inevitably spiral once he had you. And here you were now, despite having followed each instruction as you had been given, you were unable to tear your eyes away from staring down the barrel of a loaded blaster. Faced with it all, the surprising impact of imagining the red plasma blade colliding with soft skin, you began to bleed with suspicion to your commitment regarding the First Order. And not just a slow bleed out, like a harmless or accidental cut or scrape- it was a loss of swift and lethal proportions.

Never had you once questioned their methods. And this was your first indication of chaos inside the First Order. Kylo Ren was held in such esteem, such terrible reverence, that it only managed to poison your faith in the entire system. He was one of the very triumvirate that you worked so diligently to satisfy— what was his purpose, to dress up and terrorize his subordinates? It felt beyond hypocritical, a reflexively bitter on your tongue, at the though of "Matt" occupying himself by stirring up trouble. You believed you had left that taste behind in the dust of your home planet. In the still-budding fear of your subjection to his ability, there also came a burgeoning anger that you had become his mark. In this, a friction existed between the two, the fear and anger. You grit your teeth and began trying to pull yourself free.

Kylo Ren works against the enemy, so, what does that make me?

Your consciousness, to the point of wavering at best, warned you of your home planet. Savage and sudden reminders of those dying in the streets, paralyzed by the government. You thought of a group of people you had seen as you left home for the last time, lazing in the sun, with rosy faces and dry cracking lips from dehydrated and hunger. For the sake of them, you had to set aside your internal panic. You would be no good to the cause, or yourself, if you let Kylo Ren's game rule you. You thought back to the face of the officer who had inspired your confidence in the First Order to restore political power to your home planet. They would end needless casualties, as you had witnessed time and time again, with the lives of your people shuffled around as the senate argued and argued but never budged.

Bandaging up the skepticism, creating a mental tourniquet, you had to allow that the actions of this one could not reflect the choices of the others. The gleaming base as it shuttered with life and hopefulness was the First Order. The Finalizer, drifting and skimming the skies above, was the First Order. The metallic trooper, the captain of many, was the First Order. You and Nines were the First Order.

Kylo Ren was a splinter; you decided there and then that he was not, and could never be, the First Order. Not to you.

Matt, now standing parallel to where you were frozen, dipped his face in close to yours. Too close. You noticed a bead of sweat drip down his temple as tension fixed across his forehead. The wrath in his glare would burn into your memory. This was the face of the Commander of the First Order. Even with the disheveled blond, cupid-curled wig, he was an epithet of consequence and power. The eyes staring into you, fully bypassing the glasses as if they hadn't been there at all, had been spectator to awfulness so far beyond your understanding of the galaxy you would have felt holes in your very heart to recognize.

He appeared to be holding himself back, trapping his primal nature under twitching skin and muscle. His bridle was rapidly deteriorating, if any of it had ever existed at all. With the way that his eyes fixed upon you in such sickening concentration, you considered praying.

Widening his eyes at the supposition, his clenched jaw relaxed just enough to growl, “I see his death.”

There was no debating who he had meant, being that there had only been one other person who had wandered into his domain of influence.

Nines.

The words had the equivalent blow of a shock-wave; one great sting, washing through your nerves and bones, followed by a complete lack of sensation. Everything went numb at the sound of his voice, be it that there was truth behind his claim or not. You had become paralyzed both inside and out, with grief quietly causing certain devastation. It didn’t make sense for you to feel so intensely to hear it; perhaps it was the tone or who the mouth was attached to, rather than what was truly being said. You were sorely aware of the stormtrooper's rate of survival, being that it was a measurement required for your to complete your assigned duties.

Unblinking, Matt watched your pupils dilate, the physical response of the weight of his words. The corner of his mouth twitched, over and over in confinement of a malicious smile. Maybe he found compensation in seeing you wince.

You can hear me?

The tension on his forehead released. His face relaxed enough for you to understand that he was shifting through your head as you thought. As you made the connections and realizations, he was right there watching you figure it out. Bringing a hand up, it hovered over the side of your face, shy of your hair. “Yes,” he brought his palm forward, as if about to stroke you, but refused to make contact.

You still would have recoiled provided you were able to move.

"I hear them too... Should I tell you what they're hiding?” He sounded blithe. You knew there was certain madness there. He was playing with you.

None of this is real. You can't be in my head, that isn't possible.

But he answered your thoughts, "It isn't? I'll show you."

Your heart lurched into your throat as each following beat became excruciating to bear like a caged animal trapped in your ribs, beating itself against the wall your chest built around it. Blood rushed around your system, hot to cold to hot again. Searing then freezing. Everything you had meant to burry in your mind, condemn and forget, began scratching its way to the surface. Your gaze darted about his face as the abstract feeling of panic filled your lungs at each increasingly broken inhale, expecting for something less-than-human to have replaced him. The singular bead of sweat on his face fell down his cheek, much like a tear which only served to feign a look of strain that did not exist. His evil gold-flecked eyes, burning, released a further cursive pain down your spinal cord, flowing without stinting. A moment more of his torture and your mind would collapse into itself.

But liberation can look like various things to various people. At that moment, relief was speckled with muffin crumbs from her lunch break. Your rescuer, the floor supervisor, called out from the end of the hallway with her demand entirely puncturing his concentration. “HAVE YOU RE- WIRED THE CALCINATOR YET, MATT?” She hadn't realized your distress as you had been completely, helplessly motionless through it all; her annoyance to find that Matt had not completed his duty had saved you.

He waved his outstretched hand in a wiping motion all as he turned away from you to return to his original task. No further words or glares, the pain had instantly dissolved. And even as your movements were restored, fully able to pilot your own body again, your mind however needed more time to recuperate. Before Matt would be left unsupervised, once again, you would be the first to move.

You spent most of your free time, meager as it was, in the common area of your sector. You volunteered to unofficially supervise, which included breaking up the occasional argument between hungry troopers and making sure meals came out on time; anything to keep the schedule running optimally. Although your allotted responsibility had been concerning data entry, the requirements had tapered down to a minimal, shifted to automatic means. You busied yourself with supervising, primarily to keep your superiors from retraining you for other duties. You had become particularly wary of the increasing demand and associated horrors of the financial sector.

Returning to your regular haunt, you found FN-2199 with his helmet removed, howling with laughter. Bright eyes, gleaming teeth, and hair redder than red. He was the first you could recognize as you entered the room, finding him with his head tipped back and both hands splayed over his ivory chest plate. Others encircled him in a mishmash of helmets, on and off, with their exposed faces matching his expression. Once the handful of others dispersed, he bounded over to you, bright eyes impossibly turning brighter. There was unspoken appreciation for your presence, he had a story for you he knew you wanted to hear and was excited to share.

Amusement was still present in his voice, pulling back loose strands of grenadine hair from out of his face as he whirled about to face you, “You should have seen it... If I didn't see it for myself, I don't think I would believe it... This new guy is— a total nerve burner!" Speaking as if he had just ran laps around the perimeter of the room, he dissolved into a snort which was closely followed by a look of partial embarrassment.

Kylo Ren: the nerve burner.

A juvenile comment, true, but no less valid. You knew your friend was about to grace you with a retelling of all that you had missed, while being held by invisible hands, in the way his commentary was practically bursting out of him.

“He really is,” you quickly agreed. Your reasons for approving were emphatically different, but shared a conclusion all the same. Remembering the rage in his eyes, you were suddenly overcome with the suspicion that you were being watched. Peering over your shoulder to confirm Matt’s absence, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“He threw Ren’s light sword thing– right at the wall... Right there,” he pointed, “I mean, look at that shit... Now, I'm no scientist but that's solid durasteel. Durasteel. This new technician is a new level of crazy, really.” As mentioned, there was a clearly identifiable dent in the wall next to the workplace incident counter, which seemed to be permanently set at 0 days. Typically, the irony of the visual would have inspired a smile or laugh on your part, but under the circumstances, comedy was unable to get through to you.

A knot formed in your stomach at the recognition that the deactivated lightsaber, the cause of commotion, had been seized by your friend and was wrapped up in his glove. "Who's idea was it to give the galaxy's most temperamental butcher a thing like this?"

"Matt?"

His voice sharpened, given the impression you hadn't been listening, "What? No, I was talking about Kylo Ren."

"Same thing."

He scrunched up his nose at you before he carried on speaking, still enchanted by the previous moment and buzzing, "It's kind of hard to believe this thing can cause so much damage, especially when you see it up close like this. It looks poorly made, right? When it's activated, I mean. It's like a little kid built it."

He held it up to his eye for closer inspection. The emitter fell perfectly in line with his brow. One wrong move or any pressure on the switch and he would have rendered himself blind.

Nines. Really?

“Why are you holding that thing?” You took a step back as if the lightsaber was cognizant and opportunistic, able to switch itself on.

He spoke on top of you, not with the intention of being rude but only carried away by his access to the fabled weapon, “I wonder how Matt got a hold of it in the first place. I can't believe anyone would test his patience after—” His voice faded out, receding into a swallow.

“—Then think about it, Nines! What is the only reasonable explanation?” Not that Occam's razor would help, seeing that Kylo Ren pretending to be a radar technician was certainly not the simpler explanation. However, unknowing how Matt would react if you revealed his identity, you felt it necessary to least express caution to your friend given that the radar technician had a penchant for hurling his defective glow stick at walls and force-freezing innocent bystanders. Of course, you still considered yourself innocent. Even if on a technicality of ignorance.

FN-2199 ignored your warning, passing his eyes across it as he turned it over in his hands. You were almost nervous at his uncharacteristic fixation upon it. Was it that he could feel the power? Could he imagine how many had perished, ripped apart or otherwise, human flesh being tremendously softer than durasteel? Could he imagine all the devastation?

A shrug followed, allowing for it to drop to his side with a slow rattle of his head. Nines was ambivalent to the Commander’s prop. And it was so like him to have moments, of obvious weight and magnitude, fly over his head. “We should put it in the trash compactor...” His voice broke into a snort again.

Apparently way, way over his head.

His expression made it shockingly difficult to deny, being all teeth and dimples and flaring nostrils. Shaking your head for a definite no, he shook a yes back before continuing, “Imagine the Commander looking all over this frippin' base for this thing..."

In a scolding tone, you tried to allude to the serious nature he couldn't pick up on, "Nines."

"No, wait... Imagine him eventually finding it in the garbage.” Disintegration into snickering, pressing his free hand to his face. There was no one he could make laugh harder than himself.

FN-2199’s taste for hue and cry had only intensified with FN-2187 going AWOL. They were a tight-knit group and his divorce from the Order had changed everyone, but no one more than Nines. The sheer fact that he was entertaining the lightsaber-in-the-trash-compactor scheme was evidence enough. As the saying goes, there’s a first and last for everything. You understood this was not the case for practical jokes on Matt; no first or last anything for it would be a death wish. And you did not want to imagine a day without Nines on Starkiller, as much as he could be cause for nervous tension. Bold and loyal, the ideal companion, he would risk his hide to save yours. It was unspoken, mostly as you avoided letting conversations spike in that direction, but he would make sure that you were okay; he would put your life before his own— and not because he was programed to.

"You will definitely not be throwing Kylo Ren's lightsaber in the trash."

Nines, your recklessness is going to be the end of us both.

Your scolding, the impossible arrangement of words that rolled off your nervous tongue, only made him laugh louder.

The Lieutenant Colonel was a good-natured man, if not melancholic recently. He had a young face which had begun showing signs of aging since the devastation of his son. Sadness hollowed out his expression, tethered with sleeplessness and heartache. Still, he kept his uniform without creases and wore an approachable look at all times. He was always affably composed, even in the days within the shadow of the incident. You were positive that he kept his good nature about him for the great number of troopers that looked up to him as a surrogate parent. So many leaned on him for support and stability that even the most thorough psytech would fail to discern. His were qualities that could not be taught or replicated.

You wondered how truly exhausted he was underneath it all.

And as stillness overtook the room, the Lieutenant Colonel Zack was first to notice the approaching authority. He just about doubled over himself all to properly salute whoever it was that had approached the common area. The Lieutenant Colonel's sudden marvel caused all eyes in the room to pull towards the figure, whose very presence had swept through into the chamber like a cold, arctic Starkiller wind.

“Ah! General Hux. What brings you to our sector?”

#kylo ren #matt the radar technician #kylo ren x reader #matt the radar technician x reader #kylo ren fanfic

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