" i'm almost done. " her head doesn't lift to greet the other. eyes and hands glued to the task at hand: a panel torn apart on the inside of the ship. she hadn't been given much time to fix the damn thing and it was a mess. most of the wiring would need to be fully replaced but this wasn't the time nor the place. her boss ran a quick service business. ships were in and out within minutes most times. she would need to simply rig it up and hope the entire thing didn't explode somewhere on its journey. " if this thing starts sparking midway through . . . don't blame me. " / @vicioushope

@vicioushope 𝚊𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚍 :: " i assume that the rumors surrounding you are all false and unrelated to why you're bleeding out on my sofa? "

               𝚂𝙿𝚁𝙰𝚆𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙽 𝙹𝚈𝙽’𝚂 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙲𝙷 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙱𝙻𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙵𝚄𝚂𝙴𝙻𝚈 ,  han solo turned away to scowl up at the ceiling.

❝just thought your sofa might need some redecorating, so here i am.❞  solo waved his good arm, the action halting and cut short with a hiss.  shavit—was he still bleeding?  jaw set taut, he rolled his shoulders, finally working off the soaked fabric that seemed adhered to his skin, sliding it down his biceps until it gathered at his elbows.  ❝y’know i like to accessorize with red.  adds contrast—and character.❞

jokes aside, he’d made it out alive, hadn’t he?  han flexed his fingers and winced at the discomfort lancing up his side.  injuries had long ago become the norm for him, and he was no stranger to pain, but… come to think of it, han couldn’t recall the last time he came across a sleemo whose skill with a blaster perhaps rivaled his own.  the slimy bastard had intercepted him while crossing the docks, emerging from between a stack of crates before demonstrating one hell of a quick draw.  it would’ve fetched him a genuine compliment if he didn’t immediately level the blaster at han’s center mass, like this was a stickup and han wasn’t the type of man who’d shoot first and ask questions later.

❝so, rumors, huh?  dunno ’bout that, but y’know how it is.  people love to talk; they make me sound more exciting than i actually am.❞  with his head still spinning and his shoulder burning something fierce, han slanted a sideways grin at a face he hadn’t seen in over a year.  ❝you keepin’ tabs on me?❞

he should’ve taken the guy more seriously though, especially after his furious spluttering about a botched job and lost credits, that it was han’s fault his sweetheart had left him high and dry.  it all painted a picture han was pretty sure he had nothing to do with.  regardless, it’d been mistake to try reasoning with a nova-happy kreetle clearly off his repulsors.  as for his final mistake?  well, in hindsight, han reckoned that telling the guy to go frink himself was probably not the best way to deescalate the situation, but how could he have known the bastard had brought muscle with him?  like a mynock out of hell, the gran dropped in fast, closing the distance between them and nailing han square in the face, leaving him stunned and disoriented.

    memory blurred beyond that point.    han only vaguely recalled spotting a prybar and the stark flash of a vibroblade powering on in the dark; his own startled shouts of pain amid the thunderous drumming of his heart, and an additional mix of voices, lost somewhere in the commotion…  han shut his eyes and shook his head, letting a breath go slowly before he tugged at the rest of his dirtied clothes with sudden haste.

 they could chat about what happened later, preferably after he plugged what bloody holes now littered his body.

" no -- no , lie still. you shouldn't move. " a firm but gentle hand against the girl's shoulder as she wakes with a jolt , pressing her back into the earth. his other hand finds her forehead , fingers just brushing , searching -- there are injuries , yes , but none immediately life threatening. " are you able to tell me what has happened to you? my padawan has gone for help. " @vicioushope

@vicioushope said: ugh, i think i got blood on my coat.

"free red dye for you," he can't quite see her, still a distance away and turning over unconscious heads with his foot to inspect the damage; three so far aren't breathing, one had a definite hole in the skull that no amount of grisha magic could fix in time for him to go home. if they hadn't picked a fight with jesper and jyn on a completely peaceful night, he might have felt sorry. not to sound like a cad, however, he adds, "someone else's blood, or your own?" and then: "if you did get hurt, do you want me to kiss it better."

@vicioushope said ; i haven't slept since sunday . for bodhi!

the dark shadows under his eyes say much the same without the need for words. it has been - - - hard, recently. bodhi believes everyone around him has realized this without him having to say it. force knows how many nights he has woken any nearby with screaming or thrashing, or how often one of them have found him hazy and only half-aware, having wandered down some hall partially cognizant.

"i think there's still some caf somewhere." his hands don't pause in their rhythmic motions. bodhi has some scrap piece he's been taking apart and putting together repeatedly. it's something to do with his hands until he's cleared to do - - - anything else. at the moment he's still on strict light work duties, what with getting used to the prosthetic leg and his mind going blank and distant intermittently. "i'd - - - go with you to find some, if you'd like."

✧ ˚ · . ✦  ›   @vicioushope  —  ❝ i'm going in alone. end of story.   ❞

                    regardless of how much he tries , the galaxy pulls him back into its quarrels. has he not suffered enough ? the loss of his order , his purpose for believing. all of it was crushed by the fist of the empire. there was nowhere safe to call home anymore , it was wherever he could sleep for the night. any job lasts months at best. the grey streaks in his beard were signs of how long it has been since then , yet it didn't make the grief in his heart any easier. the rebellion , however , ignited that spark of hope in his chest which burned out long ago. as much as he tried , he couldn't stop himself from helping them where possible.

                    the victory over scariff echoed throughout the galaxy , only to be followed by the destruction of the death star. it caused him to question his purpose in the galaxy. was it better to stay hidden ? or did his duty as peacekeeper demand he returned to the fight fully ? he supposed it had been answered as he crouched behind cover with the rebel fighter , jyn erso. the rebellion had reached out to him , asking if he could aid in escorting jyn off-world with whatever intel she had on her. ❝ that's suicide.   ❞ a beat , completely oblivious to the irony of his comment. ❝ i'll just have to leave this world with you if it means ensuring you don't get yourself killed.   ❞ one hand hovers near the hilt hidden beneath his robes , his identity still kept secret from the rebels. he couldn't trust anyone , not even those claiming to do good. the idea of furthering himself in this rebel plan didn't sound ideal for him , but it appeared he didn't have a choice anymore. ❝ let me come with you ... please ?   ❞

✧ ˚ · . ✦  ›  meme  —  accepting  !

horse

😶 + who do u like better me or flygene

Send 😶 + a really uncomfortable question and my muse has to answer it

"... the problem is i've been dating flynn longer. so i'm going to say him. but i still like you a lot."

@vicioushope​  sent  :  “ I’m not lending you any money. ”

          INSTANTANEOUSLY, TRISTAN SCOFFS, WRINKLING HIS SLENDER NOSE AND FROWNING AT JYN AS THOUGH HE’S NEVER BEEN MORE OFFENDED IN HIS LIFE.       it’s hardly relevant, of course, that asking for a loan is  exactly  why he’s here  -  or, at the very least, a significant part of the reason.  the very concept suddenly scandalizes him such that he appears to become a bit   HAUGHTY,   pressing out a  humph  and rolling his eyes with a modicum of sullen disdain.   (  just because she’s correct doesn’t mean he can’t be a bit insulted, right?  )   for a moment, he sits silently in his false indignation, jaw jutted outward, arms crossed over his chest, willing an  unpleasantness  into the air with every ounce of his might, until finally, he follows up.   ❝   I didn’t even ask you to lend me money,  so there.  and bold of you to assume I’d need it!  I’m doing perfectly fine and I certainly don’t need   YOUR   help.   ❞   a little weak, as responses go, even he can admit that.  another pause lingers before,   ❝   on an entirely unrelated and completely unrelated note,  do you like gambling,  because I feel like we should play some cards, bet some real credits  ...  could be fun!   ❞

A.NDOR SENTENCE STARTERS.