Tumgik
#The War On Errorism
intermundia · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
palai pote en kosmō prosōtatō hode mythos palai en kosmō prosōtatō etukhon. hēdē telos ekhei. ouden an tonde metaballein poioito. erōtos kai blabēs mythos estin, hetaireias kai prodosias, tharseos te thusias te kai tou oneiratōn olethrou. tēs amaurās diaforās metaksu tōn hēmeterōn aristōn te kai kakistōn mythos estin. tou teleos aiōnos mythos estin.
here's a version of the prologue of matthew stover's revenge of the sith in ancient greek, because he studied greek theater in college and decided that the fall of anakin skywalker deserved a tragic structure (and he was right).
948 notes · View notes
danelah · 2 years
Text
1 note · View note
Errors, “Errors,” and Sci Fi
@strawberry-crocodile
tvtropes calls stuff like the wolf example "science matches on" which I think is a pretty fair shake
This.  This is what’s got me thinking so much about errors.  There’s a certain danger, here.  A certain way that this particular effect — delicious dramatic irony — tempts the mind when reading old stories, even true ones.
What do you know about R.M.S. Titanic? I ask my class every year, and the first hand rises.  “It was unsinkable,” the student inevitably says, and everyone is nodding, “or so they thought.”  I write the word UNSINKABLE on the board, underneath my crude drawing of a ship with four smokestacks.  It will be crossed out before the end of the hour, but not for the reason they expect.
“I find no evidence,” Walter Lord, preeminent biographer of the ship’s survivors, wrote, “that Titanic was ever advertised as unsinkable. This detail seems to have entered the collective mind so as to create a more perfect irony.”  Indeed, historians’ examinations of White Star Line documents show the shipbuilders themselves worried it would be so large as to risk collision; they stocked several more lifeboats than 1910s regulations required.
The War to End All Wars (deep breath, satisfied exhale), also known as World War ONE. Chuckle.  Shake of the head.  What if I told you that this phrase, used primarily in American newspapers after the fact, wasn’t meant to be literal? Nowadays we’d say The Mother of All Wars, or One Hell of a Fucking War, but we wouldn’t mean literal motherhood, literal intercourse.  What if I said the armistice and the Lost Generation and the Roaring 20s were all braced for another outbreak of European conflict, and yet we still failed to prevent it?
Did you know they were so confident in the safety of the S.S. Challenger that they put a civilian schoolteacher onboard? I do, because I’ve heard that one repeated many times.  Only, see, it’s got the cause and effect reversed.  Challenger launched on a day the shuttle’s engineers knew to be dangerously cold, because the first civilian in space was on board. And NASA knew its shuttle project would be cancelled entirely, if they couldn’t get that civilian’s much-delayed entry into space in the next two weeks.  So they launched on a cold day, and killed her instead.
These are all what cognitive science calls Hindsight Bias on the personal level, what sociology calls Presentism on the cultural level.  Social psychology’s a little of both, is primarily interested in why you’re sitting on your couch in a Colonize Mars shirt watching PBS and chuckling at the fools who believed in El Dorado.  It wants to know why the mind flees straight from “marijuana will kill you” to “marijuana will cure cancer” without so much as a pause on the middle ground of its real benefits and drawbacks, its real (mild) risks and rewards.
And they can paralyze the sci-fi writer, if you think too much about them. Jetsons is futurist one decade, retro the next.  ���There are no bathrooms on the Enterprise,” the creators of Serenity say smugly, as if Gene Roddenberry should’ve simply known that decades later it’d be acceptable to show a man peeing in full view of the camera, nothing but the curve of the actor’s hand to protect his modesty.  “No sound in space,” the Fandom Menace says, “No explosions in space,” and “A space station can’t collapse in zero-G.”  Only then NASA burns a paper napkin outside of atmosphere, transmits music using only the ghost of nearby planets’ gravities, and logs onto Reddit long enough to point out the Death Star would implode in its own gravity field.  And now we’re the ones pointing, the ones laughing, at those earlier point-and-laughers.  Self-satisfied, smug in superiority.  As if we did the work to find out ourselves, instead of just happening to be born a little later than George Lucas.
2K notes · View notes
yesokayiknow · 19 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
human au. some of these guys spend too much time on here and it shows
182 notes · View notes
atopvisenyashill · 4 months
Text
i was thinking more about characters Performing Gender, but not necessarily Transgressing Gender. I wound up focusing on Ned and Sansa bc I feel like I understand them the most but-
Sansa as a hostage is imo the most obvious (bc it’s so well done) moment of someone clearly Performing Gender but not being transgressive in that performance. Which isn’t to say it’s not a complicated performance; it’s a fine line Sansa walks between weaponizing her gender to protect herself without seeming too fake. She’s trying to placate the Lannisters by playing the perfect, dedicated, air headed betrothed because it’s the only defense she has - if she outwardly rebels, she will be punished in a likely violent and/or sexual way (which isn’t even conjecture - when she says “or maybe he’ll give me yours” Joffrey has her struck with an armored hand). She’s not quite successful in being convincing but that’s because it’s a rather extreme situation; despite no one believing her, she does make herself seem meek and stupid enough that no one suspects she’s plotting to escape with Dontos until she’s well away from KL. The fact that she even has Dontos to confide in is because of Sansa’s relationship with gender! When she saves him, she covers her rebellious slip by playing up Joffrey’s intelligence & his role as King; she reaches for “tools” of her gender AND of ~proper manhood~ to save a life and herself from another beating. Her retreats into the godswood and silence are very much Sansa attempting to recharge from these draining interactions, the same way a knight would need to stop and eat and rest after a fight. She is fighting, constantly, by forcing herself to stay within the narrow confines of a specific type of gender performance as a way of shielding herself from harm.
Ned yelling at Cat is another big one, and I’ve seen the scene referred to as Ned using his patriarchal power to scare Cat, which is a great description. It feels like a Performance because Ned is putting on this terrifying Lord Stark mask in an attempt to get Catelyn to stop asking about Jon (and Lyanna). This is not how he usually acts with those he loves! When Ned is with His People, he is welcoming of questions, curiosity, emotion, even transgressive thought (to a point! the idea that Ned is a feminist because he lets Arya learn to fight is Not accurate but you can’t deny he allows significantly more flexibility wrt gender expression than most of the fathers we meet in this series. the bar is in hell tho). Yet when Cat asks him about Jon’s mother, Ned scares her so well she stops asking & still remembers the moment bitterly over a decade later. And if that snippet we see through Bran’s eyes of Ned praying that Cat will forgive him does come after she asks (like it’s suspected), it’s clear not only that this is a performance he’s putting on & weaponizing against Cat, it’s one he does not like using as a weapon against someone he is close to. After using the power his gender gives him to cause harm, he retreats to the godswood and silence to pray and rest, much like Sansa. A spiritual cleanse, the way a soldier may pray after battle, to reset and reconnect Being A Proper Man to Being A Kind Man.
I think there’s something interesting in that two of the characters most widely defined by how well they adhere to Westerosi gender norms both dislike feeling like they had to weaponize their gender. They are exhausted by the performance, because it’s a performance. This isn’t Sansa getting excited over tourneys, or Ned teaching his sons to fight; it’s toxic masculinity, it’s structural misogyny. It’s something they’re good at, excel at, and connected to something they enjoy but when it’s paired with violence, whether done by Ned or done to Sansa, it crosses over in their minds from an innate part of themselves (The Gender) to a performance necessary due to survival (The Gender Role). And that after these performances, both retreat to nature & god as a way of resting and cleansing from the experience.
208 notes · View notes
Note
Screenshots of Mikey faceplanting/on the floor?
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Iiiii unfortunately don't remember any more
209 notes · View notes
sorry-but-no-sorry · 2 months
Text
Update
I finally managed to open the crashing file and got rid of the blue layer !
Tumblr media
99 notes · View notes
arcsimper5 · 28 days
Text
WOLFFE IS BEING HAUNTED BY THE FORCE GHOST OF PLO KOON CONFIRMED 😂👻
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Either that or the 'eldritch horror trooper' is now canon 😂
93 notes · View notes
peachyhoolagan · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“And you would’ve loved it.”
P1
-
Tumblr media
205 notes · View notes
000marie198 · 2 months
Text
Beats till the song disappears
......
Classic era, Sonic 2's bad ending timeline but I made it better. Or worse. Leaving for you to decide. Enjoy :)
...........
He trudged through the dark zone, silent and windless akin to a closed, lifeless chamber.
The place was littered with systematically arranged crystal blocks that would've looked aesthetically pleasing if it were daytime. For now, they just made the place more eerie as he waited for Robotnik to show up.
After what felt like an eternity of worried pacing to the speedy hedgehog but in reality was barely a couple of minutes, two of the structures nearby split apart, revealing a camouflaged panel sliding in the ground.
Sonic stopped, facing the opening to see the Eggmobile rise from the underground, hovering a meter or so above the inclined floor leading into the depth.
The doctor looked composed, unworried, his spectacles glinting with a previously absent touch of confidence, of victory.
"Did you bring them?" He asked, addressing the frustrated hedgehog.
Sonic revealed four emeralds without a word, pulling them away as the other tried to grab for them.
"Tails?"
"Hand them over first."
Sonic was about to retaliate but paused at seeing the other hover a finger over the mobile's control panel, staring straight at him with the unspoken threat clear in his body language. He could kill the kit if Sonic wasn't careful.
His thoughts conflicting with one another and the concern for his little brother chiming in, he finally relented, holding out the gems for the mobile's claws to grab.
"Now tell me where he is."
"Careful, hedgehog, you don't get to make demands here. I believe we had an agreement that he'll be spared only if you brought all five Chaos Emeralds, hmm?"
Silence fell over the terrain, the hero shooting a venomous glare at Robotnik. It would be too much of a gamble to attack him when he had a link open to wherever he was keeping Tails. His lack of acknowledgement to the earlier question was answer enough. He hadn't been able to collect the required number of emeralds on time.
"I see," the scientist murmured.
Sonic gritted his teeth, high strung, on edge. He was aware he had failed but he needed to know...
"Just tell me if my brother is alright."
"He is," the other sighed in an exaggerated display of disappointment, "I would've gotten rid of him by now provided your ineptitude-"
"You know I can't locate them all this fast!" Sonic snarled, looking seconds away from jumping at his throat.
"But I am feeling rather... merciful today," the man continued on without even reacting to the interruption, his demeanor betraying he held all the cards. "I propose another deal, hedgehog. If you agree, I promise that no harm will come to Tails."
Sonic shouldn't trust him. Didn't trust him. But if it meant Tails would be safe...
He nodded, signalling to Robotnik that he was listening. Said scientist smirked under his mustache.
"Become part of my legion. Surrender yourself to me, and your little friend will go unharmed."
His legion. The hero had fought against him enough times, had seen enough horrors and rescued enough critters being used as test subjects to read between the lines, to know what Robotnik meant. The mere mention of that thing still makes him sick. Robotnik wasn't asking him to just give up his freedom. He was demanding for Sonic to give up his mind and body, his free will, in the worst way possible.
Sonic's life or Tails' safety?
It took him less than a second to choose.
"Well?" Robotnik's voice prompted, already knowing his nemesis' decision.
"If you hurt Tails-"
"Oh don't be so leery. I gave you my word. Your fox friend will not be harmed. Now, do we have a deal or do I signal my bots to neutralize that menace?"
Sonic squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with a plethora of emotions he couldn't bring himself to grasp and process as they came and went in waves. He gasped in a breath and stilled, before coiled tension leaked away from his body and he sighed. Surrendered.
"Deal."
"Excellent!" He could hear the victorious grin in Robotnik's voice but he didn't react, unable to bring himself to look up, gaze fixed on his red and white sneakers as he willingly sealed his fate. His iconic shoes held his focus, shoes that allowed him his freedom to run as fast as his heart desired. The same freedom which he was now volunterily giving up for his brother.
It felt like just yesterday when he had met the little guy, his shoes very smilar to Sonic's own, a matching color scheme. Something he had never paid attention to before but was now a glaring memory. He hadn't even told Tails how much he cared for him, how much proud he was, had he?
If he were to be given a chance to speak with Tails, he'd never remain silent again.
His feet moved without his consent, following the rotound man into the underground base until he blinked out of his thoughts and found himelf in a lab, facing a tall glass cylinder strung up in the center of the circular space.
It stood empty, it's front open, waiting to be occupied. Sonic stared on, unable to look away.
"Now don't be shy, step into the capsule. Chop chop!"
A hair's breath pause and he stepped forward, inside the glass confinement and upon the platform inside, fully resigning himself to what he had agreed on. His breath shuddered with anguish and dread as Robotnik moved around it to the front and pressed a switch.
The glass sealed behind him with a decisive click.
Adrenaline shot through his veins as the machine hummed to life, lights glowing awake below the platform he stood on and the welded hatch above him.
His heartbeat began to thunder in his ears, quills pricking up but he held still, letting the titanium clamps reaching for him seal around his ankles and wrists.
He saw Robotnik clicking away at a nearby screen and then he felt a subtle jerk, the machine's hum increasing in volume and intensity, the platform under him rising up.
With one final click at the keyboard, sleek contraptions that looked suspiciously like a sci-fi mixture of scanner and blaster surrounded him and pulsing rays shot out from their openings.
Sonic grunted as he felt the energy strike him, the clamps keeping him still.
2%
It started from below, at the legs. Of course it fucking did. Sonic wanted to scream, wanted to yell and kick and bang his fists against the glass, feeling cold numbness slowly spreading up his most powerful weapons, his legs, his speed, stripped from him painstakingly slowly as flesh turned to metal.
All he did was clench his fists and grit his teeth in anguish, his whole being screaming at him to move but he held still. He couldn't move, not if it placed his first friend, his best friend, at risk.
28%
The titanium bands securing his ankles and wrists seemed to tighten, restricting the little bit of movement he had as the rays slowly climbed up to his torso, inches below his heart.
He didn't let the tears show.
For Tails for Tails for Tails for Tails
His thoughts chanted like a mantra, placing all his being into not moving, letting himself be turned into a machine, until his ears swivelled at the swoosh of a panelled door sliding open, urging him to look up.
His breath caught in his throat, each cell freezing up in a mixture of shock, rage and despair.
No. No no no no no no no no NO!
"TAILS!" The anguished wail left his chest just as his heart stopped beating, an engine's hum replacing its frantic rhythm.
He payed it no mind. It didn't matter when it was ripped to shreds anyway the moment his blurry gaze met his brother's.
Glowing red optics stared back.
He tried to move, tried to break free but it made no difference, half his body frozen on the spot, under the control of the Chaos forsaken monster who did this.
65%
The bands on his wrists burned, something warm and damp flowed down his palms and dripped from his fingers. Sonic was numb to it, struggling and shaking in the glass confine, his own screams becoming muffled to his ears.
"You promised! YOU FUCKING PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM!"
A screen beeped, the vitals' charts on it going haywire as the progress bar reached 78%.
The mustached scientist just stood there grinning, unconcerned and victorious.
"And I kept my promise. He is unharmed, well and alive." The words seemed to echo in his head, reverberating as if imprinting on the walls of his mind, the machine's buzz and hum drowned out by them. "Just as you asked, rodent."
He couldn't take his pained eyes off of the small yellow robot and his captor noticed that, turning to address Tails with a deceptively encouraging smile.
"Isn't that right, Metal Tails?"
The little robot finally moved, startled beeps escaping it as it's mechanical gaze shifted away from hyperfocusing on Sonic and towards what it's systems told it to be it's creator.
The familiar innocence in that small gesture, even though seeing it on a roboticized mecha, broke something in Sonic.
He tried to call out to his brother but realized he couldn't speak. He couldn't feel his muzzle or mouth anymore. Oh...
The screen read 96%.
As the metal climbed up his quills and ears and the world began to fade into static, Sonic drowned out Eggman's smug grin and droning of the roboticizer's rays, putting all that was left of his mind and strenght into focusing on Tails.
He wanted his last memory to be of his brother, even if no longer flesh and blood but mere metal and wires, he was still Tails. His Tails. That much was clear from its demeanor alone, the innocence, the curiosity, the intelligence, it was all there. Sonic would be able to tell his kid apart from a thousand other Tailses if he had to.
The tears he'd been holding back finally slipped down, the last piece of his humanity used into conveying to Tails that he was sorry, that he loved him.
99%
His eyes closed, the metal covered up the last of the organic cells and Sonic finally went still.
............
Metal Tails gazed upon the powering down capsule, his processors showing the progress bar having reached 100%.
He couldn't take his focus off of the inactive hedgehog; organic, mechanical, irrelevant, Metal Tails was drawn to him even before the roboticization was completed.
Something suspiciously illogical was recorded in his archives during the process. He had sensed what organics refer to as emotions being conveyed to him earlier by the same being. It seemed to be a combination of concern, remorse and affection.
How could he do that without any working signal and communication link to Metal Tails?
The roboticized hedgehog suddenly beeped awake, internal fans whirring as his systems rapid-fire processed the new programming and commands. He jerked within the bonds and stilled again, hanging limp for a long beat.
Metal Sonic lifted his head up, optical processors switching on to reveal glowing red optics staring straight into Metal Tails' own.
It appeared the other robot was finally awake.
Metal Tails couldn't calculate why the organic hedgehog had seemed to know about him but he had felt drawn to the blue being just the same.
Perhaps it was a satisfactory calculation on his creator's part as Metal Tails' tended to get lonely and this arrangement made him most pleased.
Another robot companion made for the perfect promised gift.
.................
No characters were killed in the making of this story, just as I promised :]
74 notes · View notes
swatch-this · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
I love this trend😭 I also spent way too much effort on this…
83 notes · View notes
u5an5 · 1 month
Text
Theory: The Clone X was not Cody like some people think or even Fives (I know he's been dead for a very long time but so was Boba Fett and look where we are. Plus, Echo was supposed to be certainly dead too; making him Winter Soldier-esque storyline wouldn't be that surprising) or not even Slick.
((Also, now that we've seen his face devoid of any tattoos or scars I think first two takes are definitely not applicable anymore; they wouldn't put that much effort to make him unrecognizable))
Back to the point: In my opinion, The Clone X was none other than...
Fox.
Now let me explain.
Who else, other than X, was loyal to the law and justice dictated by it over any moral or ethic code?
Fox.
Who else was portrayed with such single-minded focus on hunting down traitors of the government he served, regardless of what it was?
Fox.
Who else could know not only Coruscant so well but also identify Rex like they knew each other?
He already was a remarkably successful tracker of traitors, why not make him more efficient by pointing them out for him?
Good soldiers follow orders, after all.
#clone assassin#commander fox#star wars tbb#i know that hes got killed really early after Order in comics but i would honestly prefer him to die this way#the bad batch spoilers#commander cody#arc trooper fives#tcw slick#cc 1010#star wars#sw tbb#sw the bad batch#the bad batch season 3#tbb theory#we dont even know for sure how he looks like cause in one moment we see corries without helmets all of them have standard paintjob#idk if its just animation error but because of it we cant be 100% sure fox ever regreted it without him being shown grieving with rest#hes just taking a breath when fives is dying and personaly i see it more as him rolling his eyes that rex is being mushy with traitor#but there are 3 clones behind fox when hes shown and then the one taking off his helmet stands beside 2 others so it may actualy be it???#and if he DOES regret it imo is more in 'shame i had to do it' rather than 'shame i did it' way if you know what i mean#hes just doing his job and hes GOOD at it. not his fault that him being competent is bad for the good guys#my point is: outside of one page incomic that can be at any point made noncanon or recontextualized theres no evidence that it cant be him#they already retconed more important things. why not this?#i think its likely that in case im right we can assume that all named corries were made into CloneX#none of them appeared yet despite how much of action happens on coruscant#and only thorn died on screen; in a way preventing him from being viable option nonetheless#three hits point blank months before Order seem unlikely but theyve done weirder things so him returning wouldnt be THAT weird so uhh idk#but yeah cx-02 is tech#winter soldiering doesnt stop#i mean THIS could be fox/other corrie but it being tech is way too cliche oportunity to waste it on them (derogatory towards disney)#pls disney let corries hunt down traitors like they used to pls
54 notes · View notes
heart-of-a-rebel16 · 6 months
Text
we all talk about how cool it is that Kallus is part of a Lasat prophecy (because it obviously is), but I feel that no one talks about the objectively hilarious fact that Hondo is also part of that prophecy
96 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
prince consort gerard of greenleigh, formerly a frog, and soon to be a frog again
477 notes · View notes
starrylothcat · 10 months
Note
hello friend!
could i request something angsty with comfort with Echo during TCW? maybe it's a citadel fix it where he went dark with no warning, and the two of you finally meet again when you're just about to leave to start new again.
Promise Kept
Echo x Reader One-Shot
Summary: You’re about to move on, leaving Coruscant and memories of Echo behind. A knock on your door changes everything.
Warnings: Post-Skako Minor Echo. Angst, sadness, insecurities. Comfort. Kissing. Happy/Bittersweet ending. 2,000ish words.
Author’s Note: Ahhh Echo…my sweet Echo! Thank you for this prompt @toomanybandstocare I’ve been wanting to write something about Echo for awhile. He deserves the world. ❤�� I hope you like it and thanks for reading!
Tumblr media
Your apartment was almost empty. Moving containers were neatly stacked at the front door, with only a few personal items left to pack before your flight off-world two days from now.
It was time to move on.
Your apartment, this city, this planet, they all held too many ghosts.
Every morning when your eyes opened, there was hope he was still alive, that he was in bed next to you, ready to kiss your tears away.
Reality wasn’t far behind, always crashing over you when that split-second hope was ripped away, realizing you were alone and that he was gone. Dead.
You knew it was cowardly to run away, but your heart was heavy, your mind distracted by loss. You knew if you stayed on Coruscant any longer, you’d fade away, caught up in the past and what could have been.
A few weeks ago you requested a job transfer to a remote Republic outpost on a planet composed of small farming villages. The Separatists had recently razed the planet for natural resources, and they were desperate for help. You were assigned to a team dedicated to rebuilding and getting the community back on its feet.
Your job was how you met Echo, his squad assigned to you near the beginning of the war. You had supported The Republic with humanitarian aid, facilitating the setting up of refugee camps on the front lines. Your paths continued to cross, whether it was on the battlefield or on Coruscant, becoming closer each time. You were drawn to one another’s dedication to fighting for what was just, and helping those who couldn’t help themselves.
Eventually, you found yourself in his arms, his soft lips pressing to yours in an unsure first kiss, not knowing where this would lead the two of you. You continued to find one another though, your relationship and love growing stronger each time you could be together.
You lifted the last box of your belongings, setting it by the door as a lump grew in your throat. Tears clouded your vision as you remembered the last time you saw Echo, a memory that replayed in your mind every waking moment. It was what you thought of as you opened your eyes each morning, and the last thought you had before falling into a restless sleep, tears wetting your pillow.
Echo lay with you in your bed, holding you against him. The sun just coming up, light peeking through the curtains of your bedroom. Neither of you got much sleep the previous night, not wanting to waste one moment together.
Echo whispered sweet nothings in your ear as his warm hands roamed your body, his lips moving to leave featherlight kisses on your cheeks and forehead.
“I love you, mesh’la. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”
You buried your face into his neck, hearing his gentle words, feeling his heartbeat against yours. You traced your hands over his taught muscle, having already memorized every dip and curve on his body.
“I love you, too.” You kissed him deeply, wishing you had more time. Echo had to leave soon, off to join General Kenobi and Skywalker to rescue a kidnapped Jedi.
“I’ll hold you to that promise, soldier.” You murmured, pulling your lips away from his always soft ones.
Echo nudged his nose against yours, closing his eyes. “I never break my promises.”
Echo let himself relax, getting lost in you. He wondered how he was so lucky to have you. Out of all the men in the Galaxy, out of all the men that shared his exact genetic makeup, you chose him.
At first, he didn’t know why.
You worked alongside ritzy Coruscant politicians and senators that could offer you stability and a real future. He was just another soldier, born to serve and fight, not knowing if his next mission will be his last. But he found you in his arms over and over again, and every time it was harder for him to let you go.
The regulations he had come to know by heart never prepared him for this.
You understood him, saw him for more than just a soldier, another face in millions. You made him think of a future where you could be together, where you could rest. It inspired him to fight harder.
“You’re pouting.” You chuckled, noticing Echo was lost in his thoughts.
He glanced at you, his pout turning into a small smile. “I never pout.”
You hummed as you brought him in for another long, loving kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you, always. You know that, right?” You whispered, staring into his honeyed as they tenderly gazed back at you.
“And I’ll come back to you, always.”
You took in a shaking breath, wiping tears from your face. You couldn’t wait to get off this planet to start anew, hoping with time, these memories would fade and you could heal, just a little bit.
You sat down on a small chair, one of the last remaining pieces of furniture in your apartment. You looked out the window, watching speeders and ships fly by, the sun beginning to set over the endless city.
A faint tap interrupted your thoughts, coming from your front door.
At first, you thought it was something outside, or someone knocking on a door down the hall. You turned your head toward the sound as a louder knock solidified the fact it was indeed coming from the other side.
You stood up, slowly striding over as another knock sounded.
“Hello?” You called. You weren’t expecting anyone.
There was a moment of silence.
“Hello?” You called again, wondering if it was just your imagination.
A voice, muffled and uncertain, uttered your name from behind the door.
The voice was familiar, a gentle cadence that could only belong to one person.
One person who was supposed to be dead.
Someone who shouldn’t be standing on the other side of your door.
You felt like the air was sucked right out of your lungs, immediately recognizing the voice.
You were trying to breathe, your voice barely a whisper, your chest feeling like it was about to collapse in on itself.
“E-Echo?”
You felt nauseous, wondering if this was a sick joke. Was this a nightmare, did you fall asleep in the chair? Will you open the door, and no one will be there?
Your stomach churned as you heard your name again, faint and insecure.
Bile rose in your throat, and blood rushed in your ears.
“Open the door, mesh’la. It’s me.”
Your hand shook as it hovered over the button, not knowing if you wanted to open the door or not.
You bit down on the side of your cheek, tasting blood as you tried to discern what was reality, seeing if you were indeed trapped in a nightmare.
You leaned against the door to steady yourself, inhaling ragged breaths. A million thoughts raced through your head, a million emotions bubbling to the surface as your hand slammed the button to open the door. You gripped the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling to the ground.
Whoever stood there, whether it was a delusion, a trick, or a hallucination, was wearing his armor, his helmet.
You couldn’t speak, your throat feeling like it was closing up.
Echo was standing there in front of you. Your legs shook as you stumbled backward, still not believing what you were seeing.
“E-Echo?” His name was a choked sob as he gingerly stepped into your apartment. You continued to stumble backward, your head spinning as you backed into a wall.
“It’s me…” His voice was trembling through his helmet. “I…I wasn’t sure if I should message you or…I figured coming in person was best…I’m here, mesh’la. I’m sorry, I can try to explain…”
You couldn’t formulate words, your body was in shock. Echo didn’t approach you further, seeing your distress. “Echo…I don’t understand…you were dead…they told me and…I…” Your vision was going blurry with tears, trying to process what was happening.
“T-take off your helmet, I need to see you.”
Echo nodded, swallowing thickly.
This is what he feared most.
Not you being angry at him showing up at your door, saying he’s alive after all this time. Not you having moved on, maybe even with a different man.
It was the look of disgust you would have when you saw him, what they did to him. Nonetheless, he had to come to see you, you deserved to know that he was alive, and he had to know that you were okay.
Echo raised his arms toward his helmet, hesitating. This is when you noticed he was missing his arm, and the cybernetics in his legs. “I’m…different.” He uttered, seeing you staring. “I’m not the same.”
“Please…Echo…” You took a step closer to him, your legs still shaking, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I need to see you. I don’t care.”
You watched as his shoulders fell, still hesitating to take off his bucket, preparing himself for the worst. He sighed, sliding it off his head, revealing his shaved head and ports in his skull. You were momentarily shocked at his sullen and pale appearance, not from disgust or fear, but from what he must have been through to come back to you.
These were all questions for later.
He looked different, yes. But it was undeniably him based on the look in his eyes. Maker, his eyes. Those eyes that used to look at you with so much fondness, loyalty, and love. Now they were swimming with sadness, fear, and uncertainty.
It was him, there was no doubt in your mind.
You launched yourself at him, Echo not knowing if you were coming at him for an attack or an embrace. Surprising him, it was the latter. You swung your arms around his neck, pulling him into you, sobbing his name over and over into his chest. His helmet clattered to the ground at the shock and impact of your embrace.
Too many emotions were threatening to explode out of you. Happiness, disbelief, shock, anger, everything. All you could do was cry. You spent so long thinking he was dead, your grief almost swallowing you alive every day. But he was here, breathing, real.
Your legs were weak again, desperately hanging on to him. Echo’s arm came around you, holding you in place, not knowing if he even deserved to touch you, keeping his scomp arm hanging at his side.
You stayed like that for a while, gripping him tightly, letting everything you’ve been keeping in for so long out, your body heaving with every sob of his name. He rested his chin on your head, wanting to say so much, tell you everything, but it was caught in his throat. He felt his tears swell at the corner of his eyes, hearing your cries knowing the torment you must have been carrying around with you since he was gone. He felt guilty.
Finally, you had no more tears left to cry. You steadied your breath, pulling away from his chest, looking up at him. He refused to meet your gaze, his expression grim.
“Echo, look at me.”
“I’m not who I used to be.” Echo’s voice was low. “I understand if you don’t-“
You didn't let him finish, crashing your lips against his, gripping the back of his head, putting everything you had into this kiss. All the sadness and loneliness lifting away from you, feeling his lips once again, hearing his voice. The same soft lips from your memories, what you dreamed about every single night.
Echo melted at your intense kiss, his insecurities forgotten momentarily as he felt your body against his, something real and whole. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you ever since he was torn from the machines, wondering if you’d still want him, if he could even find you.
You pulled away, gasping, your face still wet from the tears. You kissed him again, this time all over his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, everywhere you could get your lips. You wanted to show him that you still loved him, you didn’t care if he was different. He was still Echo, the man you loved.
His body was shaking against yours, wanting to touch you, show you how much he missed you. He couldn’t for fear of hurting you, waiting for you to recoil once you realized what he had become.
Broken. Unworthy. More machine than man.
“Echo, you’re still you. You’re alive.” You whispered between kisses. “Whatever happened…I’m just glad you’re with me. I love you no matter what.”
Now it was his turn to hold on to you tightly, wrapping both his arms around you, careful not to rib you with his scomp. He was still getting used to his new body.
“I love you.” He whispered, his voice trembling. “I never stopped loving you.” He buried his face into your hair, inhaling your fragrance. “You kept your promise.” You muttered. “You came back to me.” You looked up at him, gently caressing the side of his face. A faint smile ghosted at his lips, his expression softening, realizing you might not run away from him, after all.
“I told you I’d come back to you.” He leaned down toward you, pressing his forehead against yours, not wanting to let you go. “I never stopped loving you either, Echo.” He squeezed you tighter as you both stood there, embracing one another, your broken hearts healing with every passing second.
“You’re leaving.” He spoke finally, your empty apartment hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.
“I am…yeah. I thought…I had nothing left here.”
“I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster. “That I put you through this…”
“Echo…you don’t need to apologize for anything.” You leaned back from him, nodding toward your bedroom. “Lay down with me?” Echo felt panic rise his chest. The thought of being intimate with you and exposing his body was too much, even though he desperately wanted you.
You saw the panic in his eyes. “No! Not like that. I just want to…be with you. Is that okay?” Echo nodded, feeling relieved. He followed you into the bedroom. A familiar feeling washed over him, remembering the nights he would stay over. Sharing kisses, whispering loving confessions under the sheets, always wishing you had more time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was almost surreal, being back here, with you.
The room was devoid of all your personal belongings now, just the bed in the middle of the room. Things were going to be different from here on out, but maybe it was for the best. It was time for both of you to move on, together.
You sat down at the edge of the bed, Echo sitting next to you. You took his hand, entwining it with yours. He leaned against you, feeling the warmth of your hand on his, his heart threatening to explode.
You were still the same kind, gentle person you always were. The way you gazed at him…it was like nothing had changed. He felt whole. The anxiety in his chest lessened, becoming aware that you didn’t care how he looked. Echo leaned in, giving you a chaste kiss. “You’re leaving too, aren’t you?” You whispered against his lips.
He nodded. “There’s a squad…I’m heading out with soon.” Echo replied. You knew he couldn’t quit the soldier lifestyle, just like he knew you couldn't quit helping those in need. It was who you were, and why you loved one another. You laid backward, bringing Echo with you. You cuddled up against his side, your hand still in his. You both had so much you wanted to say, but there was time for that later. For now, you just wanted to hold one another.
“I’ll still keep my promise.” Echo mumbled against you, squeezing your hand. “I’ll always come back to you, mesh’la. Always.”
Tumblr media
@wanderer-six
148 notes · View notes
klauswalz · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
422 notes · View notes