Discover Top Posts Tagged with #technologik

you write baraka absolutely wonderfully !

//Thanks friendo

8, 35, 38.

excessively detailed headcanon meme.

8: Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging

does murder count as an indulgence or

Okay but actually though. Kylo Ren is absolutely disgusting when it comes to his diet. Like, he’ll say he likes to eat the fancy foods expected of his station. He’ll say he likes the tiny portions and the table manners and all the trademarks of “high society”. But that’s a complete and total lie. He loves, loves, loves disgusting TV dinners and chips and chocolate bars and any other junk food you can think of. He eats actual garbage and radiation. He likes the prepackaged cheese slices that come individually wrapped over, like, actual cheese. He likes instant soups and meals instead of real food. And to wash it all down, he drinks whatever the Star Wars universe has instead of Tang. It’s fucking disgusting, and he loves it.

He really?? doesn’t feel bad about it, unless someone else finds out that he is the king of trash food. He’d rather kill them than let that secret out – although, he’d rather kill someone than do a lot of things. But so long as no one knows that he eats like a fucking raccoon, he doesn’t care about indulging and eats his garbage as often as possible.

35: What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

That’s kinda hard to answer. Because you see, Kylo Ren is an incredibly driven person, but when he’s not applying himself to a purpose, he falls right the fuck apart. If he doesn’t have a purpose, then he waits around for one. While he’s waiting around, he’s idle. When he’s idle, he starts to get angry. And when he’s angry, he breaks shit. So, he never does anything that he personally considers a waste of time, because he’s either applying himself wholly to some goal, or he’s breaking shit.

Needless to say, a lot of shit gets broken.

A lot of the things that he considers useful, though, others might consider a waste of time. For example, his whole hunt down all the Jedi thing, since it seems like most people don’t even know what the Jedi are anymore, and even if they do, they vastly underestimate what one old Jedi Master can do. Additionally, people might see Ren’s hunt for old Empire artifacts and memorabilia as useless. And it sort of is, but it has probably also yielded a lot of old plans, schematics, and intel, which is definitely not useless.

38: What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Hard to say, because he’s always feeling drained. After all, he overexerts himself, he doesn’t eat enough, he hardly ever sleeps, and he’s constantly flying all over the galaxy doing who knows what while bickering with his coworkers and being a general galactic nuisance. So, he’s constantly in a sort of low-energy state. You know, until he gets pissed off. And then, because he’s so tired and because he never learned how to control it, the Force just swoops in and takes over and suddenly there are ten dead, twenty seven wounded.

So, the only thing that really recharges him is the Force -- and, by extension, the Dark Side. Otherwise, he is just a zombie. But he’s been one for so long, that’s his regular state of being, and he’s capable of functioning even though he’s basically at the brink of exhaustion at all times. Of course, if he had actual rest, he’d function a lot better. But try getting Kylo fucking Ren to chill out for longer than five fuckin’ seconds. He probably can’t even handle that long.

#technologik #!. COMLINK.#!. AN AWAKENING.#q.

Reminisce.

REMINISCE / FLASHBACK.

For all of Jakku’s faults, and it has MANY, it was not always been burning sunlight and lifeless metal. It was not always day-to-day starving, nor instinctual attempts at survival. There have been moments, sweet moments, that could compare to the sweet honey from Maz’s kitchens, or the boisterous laughter of the Resistance pilots. There have been fleeting moments of happiness, TRUE happiness, in Rey’s numerous years on Jakku.

There was a time when her curled fists held tightly on to a salvaged pole – The beginnings of what would be her mode of defense for years to come ( And some time later, would be her mode of ATTACK, but perhaps another story for another day. ) – and twisted FIERCELY ‘til it struck the body of another and granted her a sweet, strange relief. She was just fourteen, and while somewhere else on the galaxy those her age would have sighed and enjoyed the pleasantries of their own planet, playing with TOYS and GIGGLING, unrestrained streams of LAUGHTER, REY stood high within the inner workings of a fallen ship, smiling despite being bloodied and bruised.

Rey takes a bite of her fruit, juice spilling and dribbling down her chin, as she remembers the first time she’s ever felt VICTORIOUS. Somewhere, behind her in the cantina, there’s a tension – a fight could start, here.

She’d been scavenging that blessed day, and while before then she had kept to isolated areas with small spaces only she could fit in, that particular day had her feeling AMBITIOUS. Her young, feral eyes had been trained on a particular wreckage, and like a wayward insect desperate for direction, she approached it. There were others inside - she didn’t know HOW she knew but she did, and while she had learned from numerous encounters, she didn’t make an effort to STAY AWAY. Perhaps upon reflection, she would find a part of her that hadn’t wanted to.

There had been THREE, she remembers. Two were lithe, thin, partnered through some kind of passion she didn’t ( and doesn’t ) understand. The third was large, burly - a creature belonging to a race with a name she can’t pronounce. Reason had stayed with her at first, and Rey kept to their shadows, picking up spoils they missed and her bag grew heavy with rusted riches she’s sure Unkar Plutt would have rewarded her much for. But something had happened on her end - a misstep, a gasp, a childish CRY as her bared shoulder caught against a sharp, protruding piece of the wall. Two pairs of eyes and a lone third turned to her; Shadows were sometimes shallow.

They beat her. Fists hitting her ribs and she felt helpless watching her spoils being taken away, but there was a kind of HOLY intrusion that stepped in. And her hand flew to a pole and with a strength she never noticed, pulled it out of its fix and from there – – BLURS. Raw, pure FEROCITY that shouldn’t belong to a fourteen year old struck the first of the two lithe scavengers, a surprised gasp leaving them stunned while the second came in with its own weapon, and Rey, BLESSED Rey, countered it near EFFORTLESSLY.

It was a fight that blurs with their figures retreating, one unconscious in the other’s arms, and the third CREATURE came into her view.

There are shouts behind her now, and the rustle of tables. A glass hits the floor with a shatter. Rey takes another bite and furrows her brows.

Her hand gripped her new staff with a strange familiarity; Something inside her had spoken, yes, right, but not quite, but it will do. Rey glared at the creature with a burning glare, the desert’s landscape reflected in her irises, and it was a long fight. She was kicked, but he was struck, and she was hurt - burned - again, again again, and again – And on any other incident she would have given up, and she lied there while she watched her pack be picked up. She screamed, the frustrations of ABANDONMENT and LOSS having swelled to unbelievable size.

She struck him again, and the poor FOOL, who had turned when it was on the edge of the machine hanging high within the ship, simply FELL. Even in it attempted reach for the girl she had been able to tell, and she stepped back as she watched horror, a horror she had FELT, flash across its face.

Rey looked over the edge a moment later, shadows dancing across metal like sand dunes in a STORM, covering and uncovering as it liked. There was a soft thud, a quite RIP, and Rey let out a sweet, innocent laughter that shouldn’t have belonged to such a scene. But her youthful thoughts boasted happily - She had DONE it, she had SAVED HERSELF.

HER FAMILY WOULD BE PROUD OF THEIR STRONG, STRONG LITTLE GIRL.

Rey turned around in her seat, finding the proud face of the man who had just bested his opponent, who was on the floor, struggling to get up. Rey looked away, refusing to feel SHAME. Not for this one memory - Not for the one moment she truly felt proud of.

#technologik #⟨ .COMMLINK #writes abt rey having a powertrip at 14 yrs old #me: YIKES

Portrayal tho: Flawless, independent cinnamon roll who could dismantle an entire army. I really appreciate the way you play off Rey's insecurities, and make sure she's not OVER confident, that she's still very much afraid of what she is/could be. ALSO your imagery kills me on the inside, in all the best ways, and paints the most VIVID pictures i could ever imagine so kEEP GOIN KEEP TREKKIN

How's my portrayal? Leave an opinion in my inbox.

FIGHT ME RN BUDDY BOI

#fkljghlkh!!!!!! >:0!!!!!!!!!!!!#technologik

@technologik | ❞

If his wrath had been horrific before, now it was an abomination in its own right, even without the demons of the Force manifesting in eddies about him. His nerves were shattered, akin to splintering steel, slicing and stabbing with razor affliction at all who drew too near -- his eruptions had grown more frequent, and more dangerous. Anxieties danced frenetic between his ribs, conflagrating the ashes in his chest with a wonton desire for worldly annihilation. He, the unholy eidolon of the First Order, had done naught but indulge in his penchant for violence of late, as though every scar he left on the Finalizer's deck granted some secret victory.

( If it did, it was pyrrhic, for he sank only deeper into despair. )

But lo! forth came the General, most vile and repugnant rival of their disgraced triumvirate. Beneath his mask -- a new one, a replacement -- his face twisted into a snarl, fresh scars singing their pain at the sharp movement. He paid them no heed -- he had known suffering beyond what any half-healed cut could ever hope to offer. No, his concentration was fully upon his detestable compatriot, his hatred corrupting the Force into a blackened, writhing sin. He moved like a storm cloud, drawn out of his customary slouch to his full height; of all their trio's failings, Hux's had certainly been the worst, and the knight intended to make him pay for it. Dearly.

It was Hux’s failure that had forced him to play his hand, to kill his father, and for that, he would never be forgiven.

“General. How go your plans for a new superweapon? Does this one, by any chance, not have a single, fatal vulnerability? Those were always my favorite part of battle stations...inspired by the Death Star.”

#technologik #!KNIGHT. HOW MAY THY MODRESS HERTE THOLEN SO SWETE FODE.