baby’s first starter call!

FOUR. his first love is a sex worker he meets after his defection. the time he’s allowed for recovery enables a measure of laying about and introspection comes with. 

váli’s never connected to people like he should. there’d been no teen loves, nothing that he regretted and no ‘one who got away’ either. while he had definitely fraternized since joining the military it wasn’t a place to build lasting relationships. everything immediately snuffled by the danger, the time and place, that idea of the romantic ‘sense of urgency’ was reserved for people without his emotional hold ups toward love and commitment.

she, emile, wasn’t all human but it didn’t matter. váli wasn’t not beholden to the standards of the empire anymore. he didn’t care about the concept of untainted humanity. it was always above his pay grade. her skin was soft and smooth with a faint blue tinge. she looked cold to váli, like she was always breathless. it wasn’t the cherry lips and innocence he’d imagined in first love. she’s a voice against his neck, a smile against the broadside of his neck with her fingers in his too-long hair.

they met at a cantina. on postmortem   ------   she was looking for a john, he just hadn’t been bright enough to tell. he’d bought her a drink, got lucky enough that she hadn’t immediately dismissed him, and in the conversation that followed found her a brilliant mind, who loved her work. there was no sense she was been TRAPPED in this life style, no one owned her but herself, to a man so newly made free it was a refreshing ideal.

ONE. he doesn’t smile. it’s not his fault, a grumpy adult, a fussy baby. it’s resting bitch face that verges on resting ‘going to murder everyone’ face, even if he’s the sort that safely transports spiders and rodents back outside. as a child his sister, vár, tried her best to lighten the mood. she told wonderful jokes, had a way with any sort of storytelling, but he was full of too many questions. why would the princess do that, why would a war lord do that, wheedling her down until vár gave up her attempts to instill váli with a lighter nature. didn’t work, wouldn’t suit him.

TWO. he’s got a black sense humor that plays too well into the unfortunate habit of laughing when he’s nervous. frayed nerves, the reason he most often smiles. the worst situations come often enough, someone else near tears and he’s teetering on the edge of hysterics. it happens in the later years more. when his hands shake and he’s so strung out on adrenaline that everything is moving too fast and too slow at the same time. a tie fighter pilot is married to an intelligence officer, the pilot dies in an exercise. váli, in his uniform, barely more than a boy and cloaked in black, his helmet tucked under his arm. the man cries when he’s told, and all váli focuses on is fighting back nervous hysteria, laughter in his chest.

THREE. she brings food when he’s upset. knows just what he likes and get extra portions or even surrenders her own. as a kid it manifests with vár smuggling out cookies and sweets from their occasional dessert, as an adult, even when she’s CAG and has more than her baby brother to worry about. there’s genuine love. they’re siblings. he doesn’t understand her, how she enjoys what he finds dangerous and tedious but when they’re sat in the hangar with a bag of chips between the two of them it’s almost like being children again. their age gap, large as it is, doesn’t matter so much now that she’s not practically raising him.

                    the standard first order tie fighter is minutely different than that of the empire standard that came before. MOST of it is just adaptation of time, better iterations of the twin ion engines that she draws her name from, minutely better shielding that no one in their right mind would depend on. váli hears that the originals, the first batch off the production line, were rumored to have faulty ejection seats, though no one in their right mind who ever slander the empire by insisting so. 

                    so he’s willing to indulge dangerous curiosity, a rumor, that had suggested tucked away in a well neglected part of the ship, a derelict ship was just... sitting. the classic tie fighter before him is well worth the trek down. black gloves come off and his hands settle against one of the wings before him. 

                    she’d purr, he’s sure of it, if she could run. from the damage he’s impressed she survived whatever battle took her out of combat. THAT’S the thing that holds true even now, the slightest clip tends to break apart a tie fighter, or send her spinning into space. that this one was recovered. they’re all basically suicide missions.

                    váli’s got the port side of the frame almost open, enough to get a general view of parts left in disrepair for years when he hears shuffling. fabric against fabric that wouldn’t be noticeable if not for the otherwise silence. it’s not worth hiding, and instead he pulls himself to attention, shaking dust out of long hair.

@legacyappetite​       //     call.

all right !  because a better-worded post needed to be made than like 99.9% of the ones floating around :  i’m okay with you writing dark topics ( whether it’s murder or torture or gore or something else ), and i’ll write them, too. if you’re writing dark topics without glorifying them out of character, i’ll appreciate the integrity of your work. that said, i also won’t shame you if you’re uncomfortable with them, and i’ll respect you by tagging them, listening to you if you think something needs to be treated with better respect, and understand that you may need to unfollow or block me for doing so. it’s 2017; let’s respect that dark topics can be explored without belittling and condescending those who aren’t comfortable with it being in their presence.

                    he’s been punching in numbers for the better part of an hour, biting his nails and trying to hide the nervous tick. over the time he’s had passing contact with the rebellion it’s always been all or nothing, but transiently working when he can allows for his issues.          “you’ll have to deal with the security droids     ------     i can’t deactivate them from here, but uhm, the main causeway should be clear once it hits midnight.”          and all of the price of only using a dead man’s credentials, that váli was still in their system at all made his fingers twitch.          “i’ve got transport off world with you, right? the alternative is leaving me for dead. which uh, fair play,”           it was a risk he’d accepted that they’d cut their losses with him.           “i’d appreciate if you didn’t.”

@rebelsacrifice     //     call.

                         his leg bounces, a nervous habit as he leans against the wall. in váli’s time flying he’d never gotten attached to an astromech, didn’t have experience with droids beyond the basics they’d taught at the academy and that wasn’t enough to make him empathize with them. complex repairs were well beyond his abilities so the two malfunctioning mechs that he’d grabbed on the tail end of his last decent job were completely out of luck in his on hands.      ------      but he’d heard good things about her, the droid whisperer, what a hell of a title.        “they’re   ---   kriffin’ awful, know that much, but they were like this when i found them. don’t have the funds for the repairs right now so an estimate, if you think you can fix‘em up, would be great.”

@binarywake      //      call.

baby’s first starter call!

                                               save me if i become my demons.

                    he’s TRYING not to stand out, one human face in the middle of a myriad of non-humanoids faces, aliens, following behind others like himself. there’s a sense of unease pervading all of the transactions at street vendors left right and center. credits are flying, the region’s unstable, and most are focused on SAFE PASSAGE out before things properly get out of hand. váli’s made his share. he works pick up jobs, the latest had been more than alright, smuggling off a convoy destined for imperial space. 

                    váli’s not lost, pressing through bodies with the world blurring into indistinct colors as he follows.     ------     it’s THEN that an explosion rocks through the market, ground rumbling, a ship flying low as people begin to scrabble and he can feel the skirmish above them. there’d been EARTHQUAKES on his home planet, seismic shifts that woke him in the night, disoriented, but the rush of adrenaline makes the world clear and he follows the first human that he can. the one he had, admittedly, been tailing.           “you hurt? you have to get off-world. this is only the first wave, you know. and on an alien planet? they’ll kriffing raze it.”

unplotted starter // @forcerebel

Johnny boy

i’m turning this blog into my star wars oc this is your chance to unfollow tiny blond magical bab. PCE.