#!swtor

[tiefighter]

scar twins! Konur for @cptprocrastination and drak for @versari-arts

[tiefighter]

klue spent today pointing guns at people and then pretending to be shocked about it

[tiefighter]

here have some klue

[tiefighter]

“Tahrin,” he starts, and she forces herself not to tense. Which makes her tense. She’s been caught with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar this time, the swell of her stomach more telling than her reading material and Lane looks like he’s about to start laughing any second now. She’s not sure she wants to hear it. 

“Yes, Agent?” She sighs, resigned. He sits across from her, the joker’s smile on his face permanently pulled up at the edges. It’s unsettling when she can see he’s trying /not/ to smile. 

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” 

That brings her up short. She frowns, caught off guard as he crosses his legs underneath himself, reaching one dark blue hand across the table to touch his fingers to hers. 

“I don’t see how-”

“I know, but listen. I’m proud of you. It’s got nothing to do with being pregnant or finally being a ‘person’ or whatever crap you’re thinking,” He doesn’t smile at her as she catches herself, her uncertainty splashed across her face. She’s not uncertain. Ever. She doesn’t feel things the way regular people feel them. She’s accepted that. “You’re stronger now. You’re not taking any of their shit. I’m proud that you’re standing up for yourself. That you’re doing what you want. I just....wanted you to know that.”

It’s not until after he’s pressed a kiss to her temple, until after he’s left the room that she feels the urge to say something. 

It’s not thanks, it’s-. 

“Thank you.” 

To an empty room.

[tiefighter]

four things that never happened and one that did.

1. Hands in his hair, palm against his neck. Good job it says, you’re doing well. Alek leans into his master’s hand and closes his eyes, lets the calm float in through his spine and down to his toes. He ignores the curl in his gut, the way his chest heats up and his ears go that strange shade of purple just as his master ignores it when she pulls her hand back, hand on the hilt of her sabre as she walks around him to get to the doorway. 

She laughs when he leaps after her, training sabre swinging down. The virtue of patience is lost on him.

2. “Again,” his instructor says. He brings the rifle up to his shoulder, hands steady, scope true. The wind changes at the last second, bouncing around the tunnel like a drunk wamp rat so he breathes in, breathes out. Fires. 

Misses.

“Again.” his instructor repeats for the ninth time. Alek breathes in, breathes out. The wind changes. There are only so many directions it can go. The eight failures are forgotten in the wake of the twenty times he hits the target dead centre and while he’s not supposed to feel pride, he does. Thinks maybe his brother would be proud of him. If he knew. 

3. Korriban is the kind of hot that never stops being a surprise. The sand hurts where it wedges between his tunic and his elbow, his sabre sputtering and misfiring as he learns to deal with the discomfort. Flaring back to life, the dull orange blade barely stops the hunk of metal thrown at his face, splitting it enough that it grazes his cheek. He’ll probably scar again. 

“Pay attention, acolyte!” The trainer calls out, and Alek nods. Rolls his shoulders. Harness the discomfort, harness the fear. Red eyes narrowed, he bares his teeth in a snarl. 

That’s better.

4. Swung into his father’s arms, he’s three and a half, his little brother held tight against their mother’s chest. He laughs, burying his hands in his father’s hair to hold on and the man bears it with a stoic patience that puts the Jedi order to shame. Alek is always overenthusiastic. “Gentle, short stack,” he says, huffing a laugh at the way his son reaches for his little brother, grey-blue fingers barely grazing a darker blue cheek. 

“Gentle. He’s smaller than you are.” 

Their grandmother watches from the window, arms folded. Eyes narrowed. 

5. “It won’t hurt much.” It’s not the first lie they’ve told Alek, strapping him down to the table. It’s not the last lie they’ll tell him either. He’s ten, half grown. His bones hurt sometimes because his body’s stretching in weird ways and nobody thinks to tell the boy losing his mind that it’s a normal part of growing up, for him. It’s not a punishment, not like the tests are for the stack of failures they drill into his head again and again. Testing the resilience of a young mind, they’d said, and Alek laughs to himself in his room when he can, curled on his side, the ache in his bones sharp and slow and wrong. 

“Poor kid doesn’t have a clue.” His handler says later, when the stitches are healed and his hair’s started to grow back. 

He knows more than they think. 

[tiefighter]

swtor College Sports Team AU

oh my god ok uh

1: Vjenko is legit that one dude on the football team that nobody’s sure if they like or hate. He’s a part of the defensive line but doesn’t really know he’s a part of the defensive line because he’s usually offense, it’s just. People tend not to get past him.

2: Kon plays because it’s something to do, and being a quarterback is really not his calling. He’d be better as a runningback but his dad was a quarterback and HIS dad was a quarterback and it’s just not done. 

3: klue’s on the fucking water polo team. He has bruises on his face ALL THE TIME that sport is vicious.

4: Synfae is on the hockey team and she will fuck you the fuck up. She also does iceskating as a professional sport, insisting that they’re both the same one just lets her kick people in the FACE.

5: Aly’s on the soccer team and is constantly in the sin-bin for swearing at the refs. 

[tiefighter]

Trick or treat?

"Mum?" She thinks she hears and she turns to the voice, opens her arms. "Hello, princess.Welcome home."Tiny claws dig into her shoulders, sharp teeth in her neck and her little girl, her little baby rakghoul, snuffles against the rapidly cooling skin of her jaw and tries to burrow right inside.