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#* (&. ooc) to burn or not to burn .

yanderecookierunkingdom · 3 months

Note

Hey, I'm the one who requested https://www.tumblr.com/yanderecookierunkingdom/740229855302565888/justhad-an-ideaabout-a-sweet-but-kinda-shy?source=share and...forgot if I had an anon name or not. I'm usually snow or seal anon so if you have an anon with either one of those names there's a high chance that's me...

Anyway I loved what you wrote...it's so adorable including that other ask you did with the anxious reader! Both were amazing!!!

It kinda inspired this idea: imagine an anxious y/n accidently doing that...to all the beasts...like the cookies walk in expecting a fight and expected to leave with bruises and stuff but instead they leave with 5 beasts soothing y/n, showing them tricks and giving them treats and just genuinely making them happy lmao! Y/n, the accidental beast tamer! Got 5 bodyguards now who love em dearly while y/n subtly keeps em in line via reacting badly or with fear when they do bad things and y/n feeling bad or scared makes em unhappy so it's enough to keep em in some sort of line lmao!

One by one, the rest of the Beasts were freed, and while initially, they were all fully contented to reign chaos on the world for locking them away, Shadow Milk Cookie was swift to stop them.

None of them really understood what he was getting at.. until you began reaching the same way you did with Shadow Milk Cookie and it clicks immediately.

They all become infatuated with you, genuinely wanting to keep you happy. Your smile and laughter are like beautiful melodies to them, and they can't get enough of it.

Shadow Milk Cookie claims to be your favorite because you always laugh at his jokes the loudest. Burning Spice Cookie nearly threw hands.

Eternal Sugar Cookie gives you a small mini cloud for whenever you're tired, and Mystic Flour Cookie tends to give gentle breezes with their little wings.

Silent Salt Cookie is always willing to get you a shoulder to rest on whenever you just need comforting silence.

Elder Faeire Cookie is the one to suggest you subtly keep the Beasts in line, and you're more than willing to agree. It's typically a small pout or teary eyes, and the Beast you've targeted quickly abandons all thoughts of violence.

This works most effectively on Shadow Milk Cookie. He is definitely the softest for you, with Eternal Sugar Cookie right behind him.

#cosmos stars #star: seal anon #ooc #welcome back seal!!#cosmos constellations #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #shadow milk cookie x reader #burning spice cookie x reader #eternal sugar cookie x reader #silent salt cookie x reader #mystic flour cookie x reader

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mizukispurse · 20 days

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ugh gay people so disgusting walks off to kiss woman

- Mars

#ooc #samnito #sam x kinito #homosexuals i HATE HOMOSEXUALS #kinitopet #burn the gays #my art

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

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Just to kiss me (part 1)

Finnick Odair x reader

(AO3 mirror)

Part 2, The Hunger Games masterlist

summary: You meet Finnick at a gala. He’s not what you expect.

warnings: none. Capitol!reader (this is not mindless hedonism, important to the plot), smoking (don't smoke kids, it's bad for you), reader is a year younger than Finnick, who is 21 here.

a/n: wanted to see how many times I could break u guys into little tiny pieces. Part 1 to this series <3

required reading:

Wc: 2.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Depollute me, pretty baby,

Suck the rot right out of my bloodstream,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Under the chandeliers of the Great Hall, Finnick Odair is the sun.

Glittering as he waltzes between crowds of people; he is the centre of all attention. The flash of a smile there, a soft chuckle here, and it's enough to have the room hanging onto every word. He is honeysuckle and saccharine; stunning in his gilded suit; and it is all you can do to not stare.

You linger by the desserts table, in search of something edible. Piles of sickly sweet, oddly coloured food and yet none look like they wouldn't stab your throat on the way in. An ironic statement considering the company. Panem's most beautiful and wealthy all in one room; daggers behind their backs and expensive smiles. But you knew how it looked: the child of a senator refusing to make nice with the locals at her first gala. Half a dozen political players, actors, and the like had clawed over themselves to make a good impression with your mother - her vice-like grip around your arm. And every single one disappointed by the bumbling proctor she had thrown in her stead. You, dressed in a beautiful gown - the latest in Cinna's collection - mimicking human interaction. None had the decency to even pretend to be interested.

Growing tired of awkward, stumbling conversation, you had resorted to hiding; in the corner of the hall, with the half-eaten cakes, where the workers came to gossip. Conversation with twice as much substance than the rest of the room. That's when you see him.

Finnick arrives late - of course he does - at a lull in the night. From your vantage point, you see it all: elbows and whispers and manicured fingers dissecting his every move. When he shakes hands with a famous actress, the room erupts with: 'I wonder if they're dating? He's much too good for her…'. When he claps a hand on the back of a senator, good naturedly, they wonder: 'His ex? Have they made peace since the nasty breakup?'.

He was an enigma, and to say you weren't intrigued was wrong. You were not strong enough to resist the media frenzy surrounding Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th annual games: handsome with his cropped sandy hair, high cheekbones and boyish vigor, despite it all. 7 years ago, he had captured the nation with his beauty, and grace. 7 years ago, you had watched not much younger than him, queasy at the sight. Your disdain for the games had started with him, you had to admit begrudgingly: how could someone so beautiful be forced into doing such ugly things? At fourteen? And how could the nation watch in awe?

You are brought back into the room by a sharp elbow at the ribs. A friend of yours; expectantly folds her arms in front of you.

"You're staring." she says, with a toothy grin. "You said you were immune, and now you're staring…"

You roll your eyes at Vonnie, quick to stuff a prickly treat into your mouth. Quickly, you flash pink tongue at her. "He's so shiny it's practically blinding. Hard to ignore."

She tries not to laugh, reserved when a group of socialites walk past. As soon as they leave, she splutters, "They seem to be ignoring you quite easily…"

Yeah, no shit. The older girl taps her fingers on the table, nervously, like she had something to say. She's dressed in an explosion of fabric: pink and purple and patterned, with a dusting of gold. Her hair is similarly styled, haphazard but regal. On you, you know it would look a mess; but on her, she looks like the models on the cover of Panem Weekly - leggy and striking and beautiful. You sigh into more desserts. They melt almost immediately; a trace of sugar and daydreams on your tongue.

"....do you think your mother would introduce us?"

Your eyes grow wide. "No… no…Vonnie, I will not make a fool of myself in front of Finnick Odair-"

"...but she would introduce us? Right? Right?"

Opening your mouth in protest, she's too quick for you; hooking her arm into yours and leading (dragging) you into the crowd. She flashes her stunning smile every now and then, throwing polite greetings like grenades with complete accuracy. You're at your mother's feet in no time at all.

A tight smile that doesn't reach her eyes. That's all she affords you before throwing you to the wolves. "-ah. Just the person I was looking for. Tell Minister Tragus about that outreach program you've been working on…"

An expectant beat passes, and then another. And another. Vonnie cuts in. "W-well we've been swamped in paperwork as of late trying to get it off the ground! But, Senator, your daughter has been absolutely amazing, never a day off, and poring over the legislature for a gap in the system. She reminds me of you, in that way," she looks at you warmly, and you squeeze her arm with thanks. "-oh, my name is Vonnie Dulaire, Professor-"

"Professor Dulaire's daughter. Or at least, one of them." your mother finishes dryly. She looks around seemingly preoccupied, looking for someone. Not 50m from where you all stand, she catches the eye of a man, who waves. "If you'll excuse me," She bows out, with a nod.

Hot on her heels, You and Vonnie follow. She stops momentarily, squinting accusingly at you. "You want something."

You stop to protest, but Vonnie interrupts. "Not want per se, but, uh, we were w-wondering if you had met Finnick… Mr Odair! And if you could… introduce us?" A quick nod behind her, and you try to back her up.

Her face is contorted, with a slight twitch at her eyebrow that tells you she's pissed, and you would get an earful when you got home. That smile again. The one she reserves for the cameras, that doesn't quite meet her eyes. She's tight-lipped and leads you towards the man that waved to her not long ago.

He's plump and jovial, with a handlebar mustache that curls up to the apples of his cheeks. Introducing himself as Finnick's manager, he stretches out a hand. You take it, and it's clammy with sweat. Vonnie is more outwardly enthusiastic, chattering about Finnick's most recent interview, and complimenting his style. She's good at making people feel at ease; conversation flowing like Panem’s finest ambrosia.

Your mother is curt when she steps away. She grabs your arm, squeezing cruelly. Imperceptibly, she breathes, "This is your chance to make a good impression. How many times must I tell you, this is a part of the job: you go the events, you suck up, you make appearances. Vonnie, the ditz, for God's sake is showing you up!" She pauses to take a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. From behind her flute, she continues.

"Everything I have done is for you. So you are not chained to a life with a husband you don't love and dithering children pawing at your skirt 24/7. Politics or no, you must play the game, my love-"

"I need some air." Your voice crackles. You don't look her in the eye as you walk away.

~~~

Away from the swirling lights, music and bustle, the night air is cool on your skin. You're on a balcony, tucked away from the gala, leaning over the edge with a small packed pipe in hand. It's the one thing about the ballgown you were grateful for; it's size made it easy to hide things in the tulle or the waistband. In your case, a beat up old pipe and lighter. You take a drag; and float on the moonlight that streams in.

20 minutes go by and you're still not ready to go back in.

The double doors open, to a man dressed in gold with his head in his hands. He slumps over the crowned railing and breathes in and out; erratic and shallow. Gentle sobs, barely audible. From this angle, he can't see you in the shadow by the balcony's side, but you can see him. Finnick Odair; in the gloom of the night. Not a god, not the sun. Just a man.

The realisation of who he is makes you jump, and your lighter falls with a clatter. The man looks around just as startled. You fall to your knees, patting around for your lighter in the dark. Finnick does the same, crouching at your feet to help you find it. Ah! There, by your pooling dress, a gaudy thing of gold and pearl. He hands it you, your fingers brush and… you're embarrassed. When he stands up, he motions for you to grab his arm; ever the gentleman.

Finnick gives you that smile; stunning and mischievous; but there's something about it that makes your heart sink. You'd know it from anywhere: the stony sheen of rehearsal, of strain - his body language completely different from a few seconds before. He stands straighter, with purpose, but it rings hollow. His eyes are still stinging from crying. His smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Wordlessly, you offer him a pull from your pipe. He cracks slightly, smile falling, and nods. He's shaking, you notice, as he brings his plump lips to the tip of the pipe, and takes a slow drag. Almost immediately, he doubles over coughing, a palm steady on the railing.

"D-don't… cough… laugh...coughcough…!".

"Is this your first time?" You can't help but giggle.

"No…. Y-yes." He's laughing too now. A genuine, belly-filled laugh.

"Look at what I do." You model a proper pull, breathing in with your chest, holding the smoke there and expelling. You tap at your breastbone. "You should feel it here. Now you try."

You hand it over, and he tries again. This time he only splutters. Not perfect, but better than last time. "You'll get the hang of it."

In the silence that follows, he does, taking careful drags as you pass the pipe around. It's nice to have some quiet after the overstimulation of the gala. You feel like a teenager again; sneaking out to smoke with Vonnie, but with less of the mindless chatter. When you finish, you expect him to leave. After all, it's what you'd do. Leave and refuse to acknowledge the 5 minutes of peace on the balcony. To draw a line between himself and the random girl he's met by chance.

But he doesn't. For some reason, he lingers, stealing a glance at you momentarily. Finally, he chews his lip and asks.

"Why are you out here?"

"Didn't realise you had a claim to this balcony. Have you marked your territory here or…?" You respond without missing a beat, purposefully staring down at the garden below.

"You know that's not what I meant. I haven't seen you before, and here you are-" He chuckles. "-on my balcony."

"How do you know?" You meet his eyes; firm, resolute.

"Hmm?"

"How do you know you haven't met me before? Maybe I bumped into you on the ballroom floor, or at the buffet?"

"I remember everyone at these things. It's always the same. Trust me, if we'd met, I would remember you."

"There's always a million people here…"

"And I remember them all." He breathes, a little wistfully. You didn't realise someone so young could even be wistful.

"That must suck. Every nosy reporter and suck-up? Every politician and creepy little shit-stirrer?" Oh. She's funny, he thinks. And not funny in the tight-lipped, fill-the-silence-with-small-talk way. Unabashedly, genuinely, funny.

"Yes. Every creepy little shit-stirrer." He repeats. Your words taste different in his tongue. Good different. "Thought I'd already met all the spoilt little rich girls, though."

You feign shock, and clutch the necklace at your chest. "You wound me, you really do."

Conversation is effortless with him, lazy in the haze of moonlight that wraps around you both. Shamefully, you didn't think he would be all that smart; too beautiful to have a use for sharp wit and humor. Perhaps the talk shows and television were rotting your brain; he was wonderfully perceptive and you almost struggled to keep up with his pace. Almost.

And so you talked. About anything and everything. What he had for breakfast, the newest music, the weather, the hidden intricacies of capitol life. All the while, tiptoeing around the reality of the situation: that he was the Finnick Odair, perhaps the most sought after man in all of Panem. That he came here to cry on a balcony - clearly, running away from something. To be fair to the man, you wouldn't think it; he was humble and gracious, laughing with a serf like you easily. Fleetingly, you forget yourself, only reminded when the willowy light cut his face just so; handsome, beautiful; and you were blinded by the sun.

You talk until your throat aches and your legs are sore. Behind you, the gala winds down. Again, Finnick seems reluctant to leave, to break the spell you are both under. A normal conversation. A weight off his shoulders; if only for a moment. A natural lull in conversation, and you're skittish, suddenly aware of the time.

"I should go." You say softly.

"I should too, suppose." He looks a little sad, resigned to a small smile.

"Good luck." You nod and walk towards the door. He stops you, clasping a hand in yours. You're looking at each other, and all you can feel is his palm in yours. It's a little rougher than expected, and warm, dwarfing yours. The feeling tethers you to him.

"Good luck." He nods, squeezing your hand. He is doe-eyed and gorgeous in the widowed light. Stepping closer, he opens the door. Finnick Odair lets go and clicks down the hallway, leaving you with a pain in your chest and that feeling on your palm. He flexes his hand as he walks away.

He doesn't look back.

#a little ooc but stick with me guys #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x capitol!reader #finnick x y/n #the hunger games #the hunger games fic #angst #slow burn #Spotify #thg #thg x reader #kat_writes😼

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wish-upon-the-universe · 23 days

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an "everyone loops but its at the same time au" but sif's wish lets everyone remember and they figure out it was a wish in loop one so sif teaches them how to wish properly and they each make a unique wish and now they go through the loops because bon still accientally pushes sif into the tear and sif doesnt find the key so mira volunteers to test if tears work on her and now theyre in dormont AGAIN and isa and odile are agitated at needless risks because what if there's a limit?!? and bonnie may or may not be crying because yeah mira's fine now but it was still scary!!! so dinner that night's not very fun but they still trek up to floor 2 and dont miss the key this time siffrin and when they get the key and get to the crossroads, siffrin chooses wrong to try to make it up to odile and bonnie runs into a tear except they're looping before they even make it because siffrin panicked that bad. so now tension's rising a little higher, theyre back in dormont AGAIN and all the gear they picked up is gone too because it's siffrin's!! goddamn!!! timeloop!!!! BUT at least they can try to beat the king and by some unlucky miracle, they pick the wrong path every!! single!!! try!!! no matter if bonnie or odile or mira or isa chose because of course the last path is the correct one and then!!! they die to the damn king!!!!!! all that progress!!! back to square one!!!!! they're grumpy and tired and this wish made it all happen!!!!!! so maybe a wish can undo it!!!

except the universe doesnt listen to the words of your wish, it listens to your heart. and like it or not, your wish will come true. somehow it will.

#everyone loops au #im just. dumping #wouldnt it be fun to go insane together #wouldnt it be fun to watch everyone fail over and over and over #wouldnt it be fun to know youre stuck because of someone else and you cant help #but blame them for your own anger and stress and tension #wouldnt it be fun to find a family tale yourself #wouldnt it be fun to train alone because you know youll wake up yesterday no matter if you die #wouldnt it be fun to rip those papers to shreds and burn them if they come back anyway #wouldnt it be fun to day dream about stargazing and picnics #WOULDN'T IT BE FUN TO TIME LOOP WITH YOUR FAMILY #sorry went a little insane #teehee #in stars and time #probably ooc but ill like. clean up. tomorrow #wish.txt

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headchamberlain · 1 month

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"...I did something I should not have."

#ooc:#okay so i know bsd is dark #but just incase yall are uncomfortable #SH tw #and kinda like. burns. tw.

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lunaetis · 20 days

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i've been feeling disassociated from genshin lately. i still love the muses i write and the relationships / dynamics i've formed but my own interest in the game / lore as a whole had been dwindling a lot in the past few months. i'm sure that my interest would pick up once the new patch / story is released but as of now, i don't think i have much of a muse for genshin muses aside from a selected few here and there. with w.uthering w.aves scheduled to be released next month, i know i'm going to invest a lot of my attention and time there bc i have been waiting for the game for years & i'm really excited for it. i might remove some of my genshin muses or move them to request only but i'll sit on it a little bit more before making any changes.

#.ooc #[ genshin burn out had been with me for many months now #and with how stressed i am with work lately i find myself even less motivated #to get on or dive into it again #so i might adjust my muselist later #i'm contemplating a bit of a semi-hiatus too bc i've been ??#feeling weird about being on tumblr as of late #tho i think that's my stress talking #i'll see after the long weekend if i still feel the same before making proper announcement for it ]

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masterjedilenawrites · 8 months

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In Other Words: Hold My Hand - Chapter 1

Weee look at me, starting another story when I have so many others left to finish 🙃 To be fair, I started this one a while ago and fully intended to get it off the ground sooner. But, you know, life. So after a sudden burst of creativity and motivation (while caught in throes of my Hux BS), here we are, chapter one ready to be released into the world. Just don't ask me when chapter two will come...

Part One: Hold My Hand

Chapter One

Hux x fem!reader | 2.4k words

Content warnings: Mention of torture/interrogation, mention of childhood abuse

It was a mystery how you'd ended up in this exact spot you currently found yourself in. The sequence of events themselves were fairly straightforward. There'd been an unexpected skirmish between some First Order troopers and your band of Resistance fighters; you and your best friend Nat had jumped foolishly into the fray despite only just having started your combat training; the Order had unsurprisingly cornered the two of you... and then, in what she probably thought to be a brilliant move, your friend had convinced the troopers you wanted to defect and join the Order. Then there was a week of nasty interrogation to ensure your stories matched up and held true. Somehow you'd both been cleared, and now here you were, standing outside the office of who would be your supervisor aboard The Finalizer, waiting to be summoned in.

What had happened was clear enough. The mystery was understanding why it had all happened. How could there possibly be good in the galaxy when it had devised such a series of unfortunate events to set you down right here, in the thick of all you despised? How could you possibly hope to improve that galaxy from here, or at the least simply benefit your own life? There was a reason espionage and spies weren't used against the First Order - a reason you'd tried repeatedly to explain to your stubborn friend to no avail.

Damn her, you grumbled to yourself, though you knew you didn't fully mean it. Sure, she'd had the idea, but you'd gone along with it. You couldn't make her shoulder all of the blame.

A swooshing sound accompanied the sudden opening of the door in front of you. You stood at attention, coming face to face with a young officer in a smart-looking hat. He clutched a datapad in the crook of his arm as if he were keeping it there on a time-out.

He didn't seem to notice your presence until he had already stepped out of the room and made to follow the hallway to the right. He paused in a second of surprise, and then made a little scoffing noise.

"He's in quite a mood," he said and gave you a knowing look, though you weren't sure what you were supposed to know by it. "Good luck."

He swiftly stalked off, leaving the doorway in front of you open to the office beyond. Fluorescent lights glowed from the ceilings inside, giving you a chance to scope out what you were walking into. Most of the room was bare up here by the door; too bare, like there was supposed to be more furniture but it had disappeared somehow. The back half of the room was more naturally filled. A large bookcase stood tall and proud along the back wall, boasting of thick tomes and unique trinkets. To the side was a low counter with a few liquor bottles and mixers. There was also a small box of some kind in the corner, with a carpeted top and a hole in the side. You weren't sure what it was for.

And placed before all of it, directly in the center, just before the threshold you now found yourself crossing, as if dividing the room between emptiness and warmth, was a large desk made of dark wood and brass furnishings. A lone chair sat in front of it for guests, while the office's owner sat in his own chair on the other side.

Hunched in his chair, was more like it. The position almost could have obscured his identity from you as you tried to get your nerves under control. But alas, the ginger hair still gave him away.

You choked.

"What," he drawled with annoyance, not bothering to look up from the work that occupied him on his desk.

Hux. The General Hux. The face of the First Order and all its terrifying advancements. He was to be your supervisor? What a cruel joke the universe was playing on you.

You stood in shocked silence, which seemed to annoy him further as he huffed and finally looked up. Whatever reproach he was prepared to give vanished as he took in your appearance.

"Who are you?"

You swallowed hard under his gaze. Never in your life did you think you'd come face to face with this man, and now here you were, mere feet away, donning the uniform of his people and completely under his authority.

Oh you were going to kill your friend for this.

"I..." Your throat felt like it was constricting. Panic would soon overtake you if you didn't shake free of its grasp now. As you'd learned in your interrogation, it would not do to show any sign of weakness in this place, not even a bit of hesitancy. And you would need that strategy even more with General Hux watching you.

You cleared your throat quickly and straightened up further. "I believe I am to be your new assistant, sir. They sent me here to report for duty."

Hux regarded you for a moment and then leaned back in his chair with a quirked eyebrow. He didn't seem annoyed anymore, but there was a sort of sneering curiosity that took its place, and you weren't sure which you'd rather be dealing with in this moment.

"Ah, yes. Deserters from the Resistance. I was so surprised by the news, I had to see one of you for myself."

He paused to gauge your reaction, though you didn't have one. You were too preoccupied with keeping yourself standing upright in his presence.

"We don't get many rebels willing to join our ranks. Though when it does happen, it's always right at the moment they have a blaster to their heads. Curious, isn't it?"

You cleared your throat. "I suppose it is, sir."

"You will call me General," he said cooly.

"Yes, General," you obeyed promptly.

He studied you for a moment, no expression on his face to indicate anything he could be thinking. Surely he was suspicious of you; he'd be foolish not to be. And you suspected that's why you were to be his assistant. In case you were a spy of some sort. You'd be in proximity to a tempting amount of good intel, but wouldn't be able to do anything with it under the General's watchful gaze. He was clever one, you'd give him that.

Though what he was considering about you now was beyond you. Maybe he was changing his mind, saw the nerves you were so desperately trying to hide, deciding playing such a game with you wouldn't be worth the trouble.

"I expect an itinerary of the next day's events on my desk each evening by 8," he finally said. He quickly moved through his words as if he'd had to recite them numerous times, and you briefly wondered how many assistants this man had gone through before you finally realized you should probably be paying closer attention. "You will also maintain reports on the health of each department I oversee, filter any feedback or escalated concerns from the department heads, and share only the most important for my attention. You will accompany me to all non-confidential meetings and take down notes...."

He trailed off and sported a small smirk.

"Do you wish to take some down now?"

You quickly nodded, hating how he was already finding ways to subtly undercut your competency.

He opened a drawer and fished out a data pad, handing it over to you and gesturing to the opposite chair, all the while maintaining that smirk. You fiddled with the device and tried to quickly note down what he'd said so far. You could feel him watching you. Your fingers shook from the anxiety of it all.

When you finally looked up at him, his face was back into something more neutral.

"Ready?" he asked softly. You realized he was being patient, an incredible relief to your nerves, so you tried for a smile with your response.

"Yes, General."

He nodded and continued, speaking almost a mile an hour as if through a well-rehearsed speech, and you did your best to keep pace. Your notes were a jumbled mess of various times and tasks, preferences and expectations. You hoped you'd be able to make sense of them later. One missed detail, and you suspected you'd be booted off the ship faster than you could say dank farrick.

"And finally," he said at last, and you couldn't help but let out the breath you'd been holding the past ten minutes, "this may go without saying but I shall state it anyway so we are perfectly clear. You will not be allowed access to outside communications."

He leveled a hard look at you, one that spoke volumes louder than his words.

"I have also waived your right to any leaves of absence. Until you have gained my full and complete trust."

You nodded, suspecting as much.

"And in all transparency, there is not a single soul in this galaxy who has managed to earn my full and complete trust. Do I make myself clear?"

You nodded again, unable to keep his gaze. A part of you was sinking at the thought. You were trapped aboard this ship. No sky, no sea, no trees. Just sterile walls and shiny floors and an endless expanse of empty space behind a viewport. You could very well die here and never feel sand beneath your toes again.

General Hux stood, and you quickly rose to match.

"That said, it will be to our mutual benefit for you to take this position seriously. I run a very tight ship so I expect nothing less than professional excellence from you."

"Yes, sir. General. Sorry. Yes, General."

He gave an almost imperceptible sigh through your flustering. You certainly weren't inspiring any confidence in your ability to do this job, not when you kept remembering how dangerously thin a line you walked here. And though you didn't exactly want to be here, you'd be damned if you were ever thought of as less than good enough.

"You are dismissed." He waved a hand as he sat back down again, his attention already returned to the stack of papers he'd been pouring over before your arrival. You were more than grateful to finally be allowed out of this situation. The emotions you'd been bottling in needed to be let out. You wasted no time in turning on your heel and scurrying away.

"Oh, one more thing," he said just before you could open the door to your freedom. "You'll be given the rank of Second Lieutenant. It means nothing other than to ensure you have proper security clearance to accompany me when needed. You can pick up your badge and insignia at the security office."

This information, as well as all you'd noted down, weighed on you as you finally made it out the door. You walked down the hall in a daze, not knowing where you were going, entirely too fixated on this bizarre situation you found yourself in. You were a Second Lieutenant aboard a First Order ship, serving directly under General Hux, and banned from even so much as glimpsing a life outside of this one. You'd never be able to see your friends or family again. In fact, you'd be helping fight against them now. Whatever service you performed for the General would be in service to the war he waged against your people.

You paused in your wandering to lean against the nearest wall, grateful that whatever part of the ship you were in didn't have much foot traffic. The side of your head rested against the cool steel walls and your eyes closed in a fight against the tears that threatened to burst forth. You focused on your breathing. In and out. In and out. No thinking, no feeling. Just breathe.

You stayed like this an undeterminable amount of time before slowly reopening your eyes and coming back to the present moment. How long the calming effects of your meditation would last, who knew, but at least you were now numb enough to get back to the tasks at hand. You'd need to find the security office. And your room, or bunks, or wherever they intended to have you sleep around here. And perhaps most importantly, you'd need to find your friend.

If not to ensure she was alright, than at least to give her a piece of your mind.

* * *

Hux watched as discreetly as he could the disappearing form of the woman who was to be his new assistant. Even after the door slid shut behind her, his gaze still lingered on the spot she had last been.

He'd come to expect timidness from all who found themselves in his presence these days. His reputation had grown quickly and held fast, much to his relief. He still felt like he'd came into this position, this war even, much too quickly to have any real sense of confidence about it. Not that he'd let anyone see, of course, which was why he was grateful he at least had the skill of being able to put on a good show, to mask the insecurities he privately fought. Years of abuse and neglect were to thank for that.

But this woman, this rebel-turned-deserter, was throwing him off. She had been timid, yes, but had also shown all the other telltale signs of someone wanting his approval. Compliance, politeness, even a bit of pride. As if she had been raised in an old Imperial household and came here to work her way up the ladder of power with the rest of them, but still viewing him with a sort of fearful reverence.

It perplexed him. To what end was she here? An honest wish to change sides seemed unlikely, which only left the option of her being a spy. But that didn't fit the facts well, either. As a spy, she'd either be a good actor and show no signs of fear, or she'd be terrible at keeping on a game face and have no tact at all. She displayed both. He didn't know what to make of her.

He sighed, realizing he'd been endlessly ruminating again, and as a result could feel that familiar tension of an oncoming headache in his forehead. He shook himself, as if that would dispel the strain, and tried to focus back on his work.

He'd made her his assistant for a reason, to keep an eye on her, and to an extent her friend. He'd figure out their intentions soon enough, he'd just need to interact with her more.

~ ~ ~

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akiiyamamizukii · 1 year

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✧.* “Is this how to cook?”

✧. ┊You teach him how to cook but uhh... Why do you smell fire?

✧. ┊Kevin Kaslana x Reader.

✧. ┊Warnings: None. No, proofread. Also, it’s short. 🧍

- ,, A/N: This pop out in my head out of nowhere.

—

-At first, Kevin is a cold-temperature guy and a Kaslana. Although, he wasn’t highly good at cooking nor how to make proper meals.

- So... You teach him how to cook food other than ramen.

- He followed your steps yet, actually burned the kitchen.

- How actually? Well, he used the Judgment of Shamash thinking it intends to be nice and flavorful. You disagree with that.

- “First, boil 2 cups of water.” “Is this correct?” “WAIT— KEVIN, NO—”

- You’d still teach him how to cook except without those weapons. :D

- At the end of the day, he made slightly burnt food! At least he tried his best.

- Yet, you like it or not.

—

╰┈➤ Written by @stxllthvnder. Reblogs, likes, and sharing(On other platforms) are allowed.

#[ eternity’s writing ¡! ❞#honkai impact x reader #honkai x reader #Kevin x reader #Kevin kaslana #kevin Kaslana x reader #yes.#he burns the kitchen (real)#honkai impact #Lesson: don’t teach a cold guy with fire weapons about cooking.#a little tiny of ooc?

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mod-jazzy · 3 months

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Happy Valentine's Day! - Love Jennichu

Must be awkward to give a electric pun card to a water type... May a entire plate of homemade valentines cookies break the awkward tensions (She totally didn't have her mother help her bake them to avoid burning them to a crisp) [ Kappa belongs to @ask-impatient-samurott ]

#jennichu is the type when she bakes anything it is instantly burned into ashes. Thankfully Mother is there to make sure they are edible #valentines day #ask-impatient-samurott #ask-wasteland-labs #sfw #mod art #ooc

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fals3nd · 4 months

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muse roulette starter call! like this and i will throw whatever muse i feel like at you! ( feel free to specify muse if you're also a multi - if you don't, i'll pick whoever i want! )

#* ooc #* starter call #i feel like when i post muse specific ones / ask people to specify muse i get like...burned out on certain muses #this way i can keep it FRESH and FUNKY

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