a pack of wolves
Fandom: Star Wars
Character(s): Hobbie Klivian
Rating: PG-13ish
Notes: Imperial Academy, and a rebellion.
king’s dominion
(someone has his fingers broken face down in the sand and bleeding face down on the concrete bleeding I heard his mother screaming)
Morning comes in an avalanche of klaxons and com calls at the Academy, in the frenzied rush to shuck parade uniforms on, in long hours in the shooting galleries-take mark, aim, and fire, take mark, aim, and fire, take mark, aim, and fire-and without noticing exactly how, they’ve collapsed back into their bunks, and the alarms are shrieking morning reverie again.
Faces and names and worlds and finally the sky have become abstractions, even distractions that earn reprimands or-
TX-1893A.
The number is a man is a boy is a child with wide brown eyes set just a little too far apart, stubble of regrown hair, a pock-marked scar in the middle of his forehead, and he’s lying on his back on the parade grounds, those wondering eyes swollen shut behind a mess of bruising and blood.
Insubordination, the commander is saying calmly, wiping his hand down the front of Hobbie's uniform in a streak of livid rust against Imperial gray, will not be tolerated.
Hobbie salutes, and is proud when his voice doesn't crack as he hails the Emperor.
Take mark, aim, and fire.
Take mark, aim, and fire.
It’s only three of them at the beginning, the rebels, and they spend most of their first clandestine meeting asleep on each other’s shoulders.
Character(s): Hobbie Klivian
Rating: PG-13ish
Notes: Imperial Academy, and a rebellion.
king’s dominion
(someone has his fingers broken face down in the sand and bleeding face down on the concrete bleeding I heard his mother screaming)
Morning comes in an avalanche of klaxons and com calls at the Academy, in the frenzied rush to shuck parade uniforms on, in long hours in the shooting galleries-take mark, aim, and fire, take mark, aim, and fire, take mark, aim, and fire-and without noticing exactly how, they’ve collapsed back into their bunks, and the alarms are shrieking morning reverie again.
Faces and names and worlds and finally the sky have become abstractions, even distractions that earn reprimands or-
TX-1893A.
The number is a man is a boy is a child with wide brown eyes set just a little too far apart, stubble of regrown hair, a pock-marked scar in the middle of his forehead, and he’s lying on his back on the parade grounds, those wondering eyes swollen shut behind a mess of bruising and blood.
Insubordination, the commander is saying calmly, wiping his hand down the front of Hobbie's uniform in a streak of livid rust against Imperial gray, will not be tolerated.
Hobbie salutes, and is proud when his voice doesn't crack as he hails the Emperor.
Take mark, aim, and fire.
Take mark, aim, and fire.
It’s only three of them at the beginning, the rebels, and they spend most of their first clandestine meeting asleep on each other’s shoulders.