#domhnall gleeson imagines

[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.12

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, YN has a fear that Sam will assault her, YN talks about her emotionally abusive dad, YN was awful to her mom, Toxic exes, Toxic bf, Fear of stockholm syndrome, Self blame, Memory of dad leaving

Word Count: 4.4k

Table of Contents

( POOKIES SO SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE TWO YRS BUT THINGS WILL SOON PICK UP IN THE BOOK IN THE NEXT CHAPTER OR TWO )

You stirred awake in the warm cocoon of the blankets, rubbing your face into the pillow. The fresh November coldness hovered against the walls which did nothing but make you lazier while wrapped in cotton. But the heavy weight of the realization of waking up was enough motivation to push yourself up. You wanted to stay awake longer last night to keep listening to Sam and Alan’s conversation but you couldn’t fight off sleep for very much longer. You tried to pinpoint what was the last few things you heard before drifting off but your memories of real life and your memories of your dreams were blending together, making it unclear.

You lifted yourself up enough so that your back was pressed against the wall, rubbing your eyes to rid your fuzzy vision as you tried to focus on Alan who sat cross legged on a mattress in the far left corner. You focused on the chain still trapping his ankle but his seemed to be even shorter than yours, not close to being long enough to open the sliding door.

You shifted your attention to the center table that held a plate of the dinner you didn’t touch last night that Sam said was going to be your lunch. Have you really been asleep till lunchtime? It wouldn’t surprise you though. Your sleeping schedule has been very sloppy and inconsistent lately. The colder the weather got, the more you layered on blankets. And the comfier you were the heavier and deeper you slept. You hated that. You wanted to know exactly when Sam would momentarily leave his room during the night, still vigilant over the reminding thought that he has watched you sleep before.

But you would feel safer if Alan stayed in the same room as you, just in case Sam tried anything and Alan would be there to verbally protect you. …Unless he was just like Sam’s mom and believed everything would be easier if they just let Sam do whatever he wanted with you; believing everyone would be safe if you just surrendered yourself over to his love.

But you knew that was not true. At first, you felt selfish for refusing to give yourself to him, knowingly endangering lives. But you knew that kind of thinking Sam has. Being guilted into a relationship does not fix the man.

You’ve never been in that kind of relationship, but one your friends from highschool has. A boy in her class had a huge crush on her and made it everyone’s problem. He would follow her around the school despite her protests and would mouth off anyone who tried to defend her. He was a short, little nightmare. That same boys’ friends privately begged talked to your friend and told her he would stop being crazy and be normal if she just dated him. She was guilted into dating him. And he did not change. He acted the same exact way except this time he got way worse and even tried to gain control over her whole life, both social and personal and trying to rearrange exactly who she could hang out with.

Thank god your friend reached her breaking point and cursed him out in a humiliating way in the hallways in front of everyone. The boy was so mortified and humiliated that he avoided her the rest of highschool. You wished you could do that. You knew exactly what you wanted to say to Sam, what insults and names you’d call him. But that wouldn’t embarrass him, it would infuriate him.

Your mind returned to you from the memory as your eyes refocused on an eyes-closed Alan still cross legged on the mattress. “What are you doing?” You spoke up softly, a slight scratch to your tired voice.

Alan took an inhale, not yet opening his eyes. “Meditating.”

You scooted upwards to create a more comfortable sitting position on the bed. “Why?” You asked neutrally and a look of downcast. Alan spoke slowly and softly. “My wife would always tell me that it helped clear the mind and reset your state of stress levels.”

You watched him for a bit, observing his form and breathing pattern. You wondered if it helped. You were never one for meditation or yoga or any self care in general. However, you couldn’t remember a time when your stress levels were down. You always had a different weight on your shoulders throughout all the stages in your life, and ever since you’d been kidnapped you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be calm.

“Does it work?” You questioned quietly, almost shy in a sense. Alan opened his eyes, his posture slumping and he stared at the carpet with mental exhaustion practically writing his features. “I don’t know. I can never do it right. This was always more of my wife’s thing than mine.”

You sadly stared at the man’s obvious downgrade in overall attitude at the mention of his partner. I guess that made two of you with a lover left alone at home. “I bet your wife is missing you terribly.”

“It’s the opposite. She’s passed.” He stated hesitantly, causing your expression to stiffen and your fingers found themselves trying to knot together. “…Oh. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

You chomped down on your bottom lip with agonizing awkwardness. Your eyes scanned the room for anything to occupy yourself with and you walked to the table in annoyed defeat to eat the leftover food from last night. You hovered your fingertips over the food only to sigh at its low temperature. Your empty stomach growled at you prompting your hand to force the cold food down your own throat.

“Sam’s at work right?” You asked after the first miserable bite. Alan answered simply. “Yes.” He raised his head to face you and spoke carefully with the scratch till present in his voice. “He told me all about the man at your work that you talked with and how he looked at you in an inappropriate way. And how that same man is friends with his supervisor and talked about you in another-”

You cut him off after noting he clearly didn’t want to use more specific words in order to spare your comfort. “I know. He told me that story. Crazy thing is I barely remember that guy. I meet, like, a hundred faces and names a day and I’m used to some of them being creeps. It’s just the female experience.” You noticed the discomfort you spread to Alan and directed the conversation back towards Sam. “What else did he say about that? Does he still want to kill him?”

Alan deeply sighed, vaguely nodding as he still stared at the carpet. “…Yes. He didn’t sound so calm when he talked about it. He’s still very angry. I tried to make him focus on the positive side that he’s been holding back this long. But I don’t think he sees that as a notable accomplishment.” After you ate a few more bites he added, “When he comes back, I’m going to try and convince him to unchain me.”

You scoffed at his naivety, already knowing exactly all the plans conducting in his brain because you thought of them first. They’ve never worked and the others take too much time. “Don’t bother. He’d probably say something douchey like… ‘The chain's on your leg, not on your mouth’.”

Alan looked at you in deep thought as you continued eating with a slight cringe. It was weird to him, he knew a lot about you (minus the lies Sam admitted to making about yours and his relationship) yet he didn’t actually know you. Sam kidnapped him and brought him here for you.

In hindsight, he didn’t truly know anything about you. At least from your own mouth. And despite the main reason that Sam just wanted him to basically convince you to fall for Sam, Alan hated that he believed that there was something actually going on with you. Something you didn’t think you needed help with, something you didn’t consider wrong, something you kept buried within you. Something you really did need help with, not for Sam’s sake but for your own sake.

“(Y/n).” You looked up to catch his focused gaze. “For us to work together against him, I need to know the truth from you.” He paused for a beat. “How bad was your relationship with your father? Was he physical like Sam’s?”

You physically tensed up from the mention of your dad, your jaw tightening that Alan even brought him up in the first place. Your eyes hastily thrashed down to your food as you began to play with it a bit with a physically irked expression. “My dad was an asshole who didn’t care about me. That’s all there is to it and that’s all you need to know.” You spat. You didn’t want to come across as that foul, especially towards your fellow prisoner who’s obviously not doing great mentally, but you just got very worked up with the subject.

“You have to give me more to work with, (Y/n). Have you ever done therapy?” Alan asked before you shook your head, still keeping your eyes glued below you. “No, not unless rehab counts.” “Well, in effective and healthy therapy the patient-” You instantly cut him off with a harsh bite, your eyes finally looking up to throw a glare his way. “I’m not your patient though. Even though Sam brought you here for me, don’t ever turn our conversations into sessions. I already have one man on my back trying to fix what’s not broken, and I don’t need another.”

Alan cleared his throat and straightened his back. “I understand. Don’t look at me like your therapist then. Look at me as someone you can vent to without having to worry about any manipulation or consequences. Whatever is spoken between us will never be known to Sam. Unless of your consent.” He stated clearly and calmly.

You sighed and your eyebrows began to curve upwards. You let the fork slip out of your fingers before leaning back into your chair. “At five years old my dad basically declared me the biggest failure of a human being. He was a man impossible to satisfy and treated me more like an annoying dog in his house rather than a daughter.” Your lips puckered to prevent them from quivering. “He hated me. And still to this day, I have no idea why.”

Alan’s frown sincerely deepened. “What about your mother?”

“I was an asshole to her. Before and after my dad left. Before, I was trying to get my dad to like me by joining him in berating her and mocking her. I would even verbally take his side on arguments that didn’t even involve me. And after, I just needed someone to blame for my dad leaving.” You felt your eyes begin to scarcely burn, your mind going back to all the times you yelled at that poor woman. “She deserved a better daughter than me. I think when I moved out it was the next best thing that happened to her next to my dad leaving.”

“You shouldn’t think like that.” Alan comforted you but you refused it. “Well you weren’t there to see how I treated her.”

“And what’s your dating history like?” Alan continued, wanting to know the full layout of the people who played significant roles in your life. Especially the ones that could’ve led Sam to believe in your unhealthy relationship with men who resemble your father. You crossed your arms to let your elbows rest on top of your knees, a shrug pulling your shoulders. “Just a lot of bad guys. They all specialized in their own form of assholery. And I was always the one being broken up with. Never the other way around.” Your eyes frowned with your lips.

Alan slowly nodded. “I see… And what’s your current boyfriend like?”

Your frown twitched but eventually went upturned. “He’s a good, sweet person. More of a man than all my exes combined. He helps make me a better person.” Even a colorblind newborn could see the red flag waving through those words. Alan shifted in his seat, wanting to put all the pieces together but almost scared to. Because then that would make Sam right. “How so?”

“He lets me know when I’ve done something wrong and how I can correct my behavior.” You narrowed your eyes on the older man. “Alan, no matter what Sam tells you, my boyfriend is a good person.” He ignored your last statement, much too focused on what your explanation could mean. “(Y/n)... how often does your boyfriend criticize you?”

“When it’s due.”

“But how often?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I make a lot of mistakes and questionable decisions, alright? Thank god I had him with me to stop me from embarrassing myself.” You defended brashly.

“But what exactly-” Alan’s nearly fearful tone was snapped off by the skyrocket pace of your heart as you quickly shushed him, your eyes blown open by a foreboding sound of a truck. “He’s back.” You squeaked before practically throwing yourself off the chair and back into the bed, not wanting to be in a space that was welcoming a conversation.

However, you didn’t plop your head onto the pillow immediately as a certain train of thoughts began chugging around your mind. Your bottom lip felt heavy and cold as you spoke up. “Alan?” Said man looked up at you with concern and curiosity. “Yes?”

You straightened up your form to say what you wanted to get off your chest in front of a trained professional for that exact sort of thing. “As much as I hate what he’s doing to me, it’s really hard for me to accept Sam’s a murderer.” You said, quietly yet shakingly, with your eyes locked on the sheets. “I can’t even picture him doing… that. I’m still clinging to that soft spot I have for that sweet and bashful Sam that became a regular customer then a friend to me.”

You finally lifted your blurry, glossy gaze to set onto Alan. “This isn’t the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome, right?” You asked with a fear weighing down your voice. Alan frowned deeply at your question and expression. “It doesn’t appear that way to me. You’re just suffering a very cruel and traumatic betrayal. And I’m sorry you have to go through all this.”

Your lips began to quiver as you slowly looked toward the ground, the weight of everything gradually closing in on you. Little voices that sounded like your own crawled around your head, whispers that overlapped with each other that this was all your fault. Everything that has happened was because of your decisions. You were the one to blame. “No. I’m sorry.” You said with a hushed tone. “It’s my fault you’re even here in the first place.”

You couldn’t tell if Alan was speaking or not, you couldn’t hear over the haunting and self-blaming thoughts that chewed away at your brain like nasty little woodworms. They were so intense and painful, triggering hefty tears to swarm your eyes and slip over your bottom lashes, that you didn’t even hear or register Sam walking in through the sliding screen door and holding up two bags.

“Hope you guys like Pierogies.” Sam announced with a smile of self-approval. However it was very short lived when his attention instantly locked onto you, seeing your quivering sobbing lips and tears before his very own eyes. His heart broke and dropped down to the pit of his stomach. He practically threw himself across the room, dropping the dinner on the table once he passed it, to fall to his knees by your side.

“Woah, woah, why are you crying?” He asked as gently as he could as his hands hovered over your arm and shoulder, not knowing if you would either be okay with him touching you or would bite his head off. His heartbroken worry, though, was quickly replaced with an overprotective anger. He whipped his head over his shoulder to send Alan a nasty glaring snarl. “What the fuck did you say to her!?” He barked out loudly over your tearful whimpers.

“Sam.” Your meek voice perked up the said man’s ears, that anger vanishing like a spec of sand by the power of that voice of yours. The voice of the thing that mattered most to him in the entire world. He looked back up to you to meet your weeping eyes. “You have to let Alan go.” You told him in between your sniffles and shaky breaths from your sobs. “It was a mistake bringing him here. You should’ve kept this between us.”

Sam’s brows curved upward as he finally placed his hands softly on your knees. He appeared so submissive and lovesick by the way he looked up at you on his knees. “I’m sorry but you know I can’t do that. He knows too much now, too much stuff leads back to this location.” He said as he rubbed small circles on your knees. “And you need help. He’s gonna help me help you.”

You sniffled one more time before your quaking lips shifted into a harsh frown, eyebrows sharpening into a V shape as well with your gaze growing fiery with hate. “Don’t you get it?! I don’t want your help! And please back up!” You wailed as you thrashed your legs away from his unwanted massage.

Sam extended his arms in an attempt to reach you with the intent of making you calm down despite your clear objecting distaste, but Alan’s voice wrung out quickly before anything could have happened. “Sam, when she’s like this you have to know boundaries and give her space.”

The brunet stalker took a second to ponder before sighing, “You’re right.”, rising to his feet and turning his back to you to walk back to the bagged food. “You know last time she threw a big crying fit, she used it as a ploy to escape.” He told Alan with a bitter scoff while he pulled out one of the white boxes from the bag.

He walked back up to you, keeping a certain distance, and lightly tossed the box with food in it to the space next to you. “Here. You can eat in your bed. Away from me.” He said with a bitter smile aimed at your back. “We’re having a session after dinner though.” He added over his shoulder at you as he sat down to eat with Alan.

You released a few more breathy whimpers before rubbing your palms across your cheeks, trying to pull yourself together so that you could eat. You kept your back turned to the men as you ate the dinner in the corner of your bed like you were in time out. You listened to their conversation when Alan began with, “(Y/n) told me you live with your mother”.

Sam shot your back an irked look, not appreciating that you felt it was your place to spill that secret. “Is this the house you grew up in?” Alan continued. Sam snatched his food so that he could lean back in his chair, releasing a gruff sigh. “Yup.”

Alan prompted Sam to tell him more about his comforting relationship with his mother and his abusive, power imbalanced one with his father. Sam even briefly told a quick version of when his father left him. This triggered your own overview.

You remember your dad leaving in vivid detail, as if you just experienced it merely a few hours ago. And sometimes you still felt those emotions as vividly as you felt them in that moment. And sometimes you felt as if you were still in that moment, as if you never left it in the first place, as if you were stuck in a never ending time loop with the outcome being the same each and every time.

You remember how the sky looked with light gray clouds passing by and allowing the blue sky to peek through. You remember what you were wearing, from your hairstyle down to your socks. You remember what your dad was wearing and the exact shades of color his packed bags were and how many there were. You remember how he moved every muscle of his stoic yet aggravated expression.

You remember every single word from both of your mouths. You remember your words of questioning why he was leaving and your words of begging him to stay. You remember his apathetic words of briefly explaining to you how he met a superior woman and he was divorcing your “troublesome” mom. You remember asking him about the custody of you and you remember his dry response about how a custody battle was never an issue and that your mom had full ownership of you.

But the strongest thing you remember, the thing that affected the rest of your life and mentality, was how your sixteen year old self ran to your daddy and threw your arms around his torso as burning tears streamed down rapidly from your pink, stinging eyes. You choked on your sobs and hyperventilated around your mewls. Your dad didn’t hug you back. Instead he patted you on your head.

Then he moved his hand to your shoulder and softly pushed you away. You sniffled through your runny, pink nose as your dad placed his knuckle underneath your chin where your tears kept slipping off and lifted your chin so that you could make eye contact with him. It was hard though, your eyes were burning as if someone was cutting onions or squirted lemon juice in them, making you keep squeezing them shut to rid of that pain, and globs of hot tears blurred your vision. But despite not seeing him clearly, you heard him as clear as day.

“Best of luck, you’ll need it.”

Those words always lived in the back of your mind like an unwanted guest that was long overstaying their welcome. You were so bipolar with those last words of his. Sometimes, when you’re reflecting about how much your dad sucked, you loathed those words. What a dick thing to say to the child you were abandoning. But the other times when you felt yourself subconsciously miss him, you defended all his wrongdoings with that last spoken sentence toward you. He could’ve said something nasty to you, could’ve yelled at you, could’ve belittled you or said exactly what you did wrong that made him snap and leave. But he didn’t. He found the last remaining compassion in his heart for you to wish you the best of luck.

You just wished you weren’t crying so hard in that exact little moment so that you could’ve seen what expression he was wearing. It would’ve answered so much and revealed his intentions. Was he giving you a stern, cold look? Did his eyes soften with those last words? If you knew, it would have answered the question that tormented you for years: Did he even care about leaving you forever?

But now you’d never know. And you would never, ever, go to him to ask him.

Your far off mind returned to you when Alan cleared his throat and began saying something that caught your attention. “You know, your mother is an impressive woman, and she would clearly do anything to help you feel better, help you live the life that you want to live, and I think that she can help us now. We are all part of family systems. You, me, everyone. Changes to those systems can have a profound effect on us, even at your age. And I was thinking that it might be beneficial if we were to do some family therapy work with you and your mother.”

Sam started with a subtle shake of his head then the shakes grew more obvious in feeling. “She's been through enough. She doesn't need to be dragged into what we're doing here.” He spoke stiffly and gave him a look that told Alan it was a terrible idea.

“I think that's kind of you, and I can see why you'd want to protect her. But I don't think you need to worry about her feeling dragged into this. I think she might find it helpful, too.” Alan said as Sam kneaded the skin between his thumb and index finger, his leg beginning to bounce in an anxious manner as his eyes threatened to water with that same nervousness as in his leg. “Sam. You don't have to take this next step alone. There is someone who wants to be there with you. She doesn't want you struggling with this by yourself.”

Alan saw he wasn’t convincing his patient with his stare not expressing any kind of agreement or openness to the idea. So he decided to hit his Achilles heel despite really not wanting it to come to that, and knowing that you would get the wrong idea on where his allegiances resided. “And I really believe this could be beneficial for (Y/n) as well. I think she would be more open to therapy if you use yourself as an example for how helpful it truly is.”

Sam’s eyes vaguely lit up, glancing at you for a mere second. Bingo. Alan knew he had him now.

Sam’s mouth moved around as he struggled to find words, his glossy eyes continuously returning to you. Alan could practically see the thoughts through his forehead like closing credits. Sam glanced at your back one last time before looking back to his therapist. “We’ll make this quick.” He said quickly before pushing off his chair and moving to and up the stairs with a jittery twitch to his movements.

One beat then another had passed before your harsh glare peeked over your shoulder. “What are you doing?” You questioned with distrust and attitude evident in your quiet voice. Alan held his hand up to try and signal you not to worry. “Just trust me. I think I can get through to him using his mother.”

You shifted on your butt a little to look at him more clearly, you gaze sharp. “I told you we couldn’t trust her. She’s basically on his side.”

“Exactly.”

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart @girl-next-door-writes @queen-of-elves @pearlstiare

[azrael-landfill]

he looks so pretty when he's being threatened

[fireonthatcruiser]

Armitage Hux X reader

A/N: it's my first fic here on Tumblr! I hope you enjoy! Sorry for any grammar or lexical mistakes!

Inspiration: "Minefields" by Faouzia and John Legend

Those icy blue eyes looking far away into the Space. I'm staring at you in awe. Stars, you're so perfect. Those red hair of yours. I'd give everything to touch them.

You looked at me just for a second looking for an answer to your unknown question like it is in this room. Then you looked again at me.

"And what are you looking at, officer?" You ask so coldly.

Any other person would be terrified but not me. Not of you.

"I'm looking at you, general. You're indeed a very capable leader and I look up to you." I said.

You turn away with frown. What did I do?

I hear you giving orders to some other officers. Then you're slowly coming towards me.

"Officer." You say.

I hate when someone calls me that. But you, you could call me a trash can and it would still sound like a perfect compliment.

"Officer!" You repeat.

"Yes, general. Sorry." I say quickly.

"Come with me." You say.

I almost jump from happiness and rush after you.

Soon we reach your office.

"What's your name, officer?" You ask.

"It's Y/N, sir."

"So, officer Y/N, you should-..." You're saying something but I don't care because all I hear is you saying my name.

"Officer?" You ask again.

"I'm really sorry for my behaviour, general." I say blushing.

You stare at me. I could drown in those eyes of yours.

"Officer, I have an impression that you might have certain type of feelings for me, your superior, that aren't appropriate." You say.

I stare at you. I feel like I would start crying here and now.

"General, I think you are very mistaken. I simply look up to you. I believe that The First Order will win this war only with your guidance, sir." I lie.

Cruel lie. I can't tell you the truth. Not now, Armie. I'm sorry.

"I understand, officer. That is indeed a relief because other way I would have have you relocated and I do not wish to loose as good worker as you." you say

"If that's all, general, I'll go back to my work." I say.

"You're dismissed, officer Y/N." You say causing my heart to shatter.

When I'm walking through the halls after leaving your office I let my tears come out. I'm crying, Armitage. But I will never give up. Even when you cannot be mine anymore I need you close. My love, I'll risk everything to be close to you. I mean it. It hurts that you don't remember who I am but it was the only way to keep you safe. I walked through minefields to get you once and I'm ready to do that again even if the road seems more difficult and longer. It doesn't matter. I just need to be close to you.

[scribble-dribble-writes]

To save a mockingbird (6)

<<<Prev Next>>>

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Plot: emotional pain hehe

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1500

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Chapter 6

Marjorie felt her skin prickle in the cold but it was also how he looked so lost that sent a chill down her spine. When she had grabbed the edge of his shirt, making him look at her and suddenly everything she wanted to tell him that instant, vanished. She muttered under her breath, that maybe it would be better if he was transferred to someone else who could handle him with a heavy hand and not someone like her. He looked like a boy under moonlight, who had wandered into the forest because he was scared of the monsters under his bed.

“Why do you run?”, she questioned him.

“At every turn, when faced with anything, you choose to run.”, she spoke as his back faced her. He flexed his fingers but she could see them shiver, no one cares about what happens in the dead of night. No need to worry about eyes and ears on the wall and maybe that safety could allow her to know him a bit more.

Only if he let her in would she know the answer to the question she had asked.

But why should he? What was it going to result in? Nothing but him being left alone again, that if he let the stars know he craved the warmth of a home he never knew, it would mock him by pushing him into the most coldest of places.

So why was it that he could feel his heart thaw now and along with it all the pain he had contained with barbed wire?

“You wouldn’t understand.”, he turned and walked past her, back to where he ran from.

Always leaving her in the dark, she wrapped the shawl around her when she clicked the cuff onto his wrist before he could walk away further. His surprise only grew more obivious when she snapped the other end to her own wrist, tying them together.

“I can’t help you if you won’t speak to me.”, she held his gaze which was now smoldering.

Always pushing her luck with him, and one day it was going to be her down fall. How long was she going to test him?

“What makes you think I need saving?”, he drew closer to tower over her. Her stomach flipped, she was alone in the woods voluntarily tied up to a feral jungle cat who could not see past his wounds.

“I never said you needed a saviour.”, she said softly to which the green of his eyes turned intense, a little more and he could become a zabrak.

“What do I need then?”, his words dripped with warning. But she stilled herself, to face him and met his deadly eyes.

“You need a friend.”, she said and it disappeared, his bravado and his anger as he blinked taking a step back. His chest rose and fell as though he was  only just reminding himself of where he was that he pulled against the cuff much like someone who was trapped in a cage albeit a mental one.

“Can't you see your actions affect my life here?”, she stepped closer and his eyes only widened because all he could remember now was Maratelle. His step mother who had all the right in her life to shun him away but instead embraced him. Her words echoed in his ears on the night she came into his room with a bruised eye. He knew the cause, he had misbehaved during a meeting in front of his father’s colleagues and Maratelle couldn’t clean up the wine stain from the his father's uniform.

She had told him gently, of how his actions have consequences and that only meant that if he ever did anything right or if he threw a tantrum it always meant those he loved got hurt. So now that he has no one to care about, he did what he pleased but today, he clenched his fingers into a fist. Marjorie didn’t deserve it. But it was more than that.

His eyes softened as she gazed upon him with curiosity and it made him feel alive. That she caught the change in the colour of his eyes or the hidden frown in his lips and he wanted to draw closer. Maratelle would sneak him into the kitchen so he could spend time making cookies with his mother and that most of his life, his happinesses had only occurred in secrecy. So as he made a joyful mess with the icing, his mother had asked him if he had friends. If he was happy where he lived and all he could do was stay quiet. Because the answer was the same as before, even now, he didn’t have friends or a home.

But if cats counted, then he wasn’t truly alone. When his mind remembered how alone Millicent must be feeling now, that he had abandoned her, his heart twisted within it's stone covering.

“Millicent.”, he whispered.

But it was the way her eyes reflected the light of the moon that he felt like he could get lost in the depths of those dark orbs, and by doing so he might find peace in the process.

“My cat.”, he told her and watched as she pursed her lips.

“Then we need to get you back to her.”, she told him and now it was his turn to look confused.

“I am a prisoner of war.”, he folded his arms out of habit but the cuff link drew her hand up with his gesture, making it rest over his chest. And there it was, the most faintest thump, the most quietest beat, his lonely heart. She gasped softly and so did he.

“Prisoners don’t get to eat my grandmother’s food and sleep within the confines of my house.”, she responded wanting to let her hand rest over his for a second longer, more proof that he wasn’t a machine, his soft skin and warmth. She had been on her own for so long that craving comfort from a tyrant seemed like an option.

“That”, he shifted his weight, unfolding his arms so that her hand felt the cold again.

“is true.”, he admitted.

“Comply with the rules till the end of your assessment.”, she blurted.

“Rules are how you lived your life before, so I know you can do it.”, she continued to which he huffed a laugh.

How was she so certain of what he could and could not do?

“When you get cleared, I’ll help you leave. Dump you in the nearest planet so you can get back to your fleet. To before when I interfered with your life.”, she was making a deal. She knew how much untoward accidents impacted one’s life.

“And all this would become an unfortunate event of the past.", she looked at him.

“You would do that?”, he asked peering closer.

“Why not?”, she met his stance.

“You would free the man who caused pain in your life. To help the enemy in this battle between chaos and order?”, he couldn’t understand.

“I only want to live the life I have, instead of wasting it on chasing grand schemes for empty cups and glory. I have my home here, my life is here. What you did for power, deprived me of someone I cared about and yet, here we stand. One content and the other a mess. So you figure out the answer to that question.”, she stepped away.

“I want to do what feels right, why keep someone where they don’t want to be? It saves me the time of seeing the good in you, one that you are blind to.”, she said and it was a dagger to his heart.

Why was he unravelling so quickly?

“And with that, we never have to see each other again.”, she whispered but the unsaid pull was all around her. The trees seemed to sway as though they had missed him and the ground beneath wanted to root him, to make him stay and when he saw her, the galaxy seemed inadequate, it wasn't enough.

“Why are you doing this?”, he asked but it came out like a plea. She was going to ruin her life for his vain power hungry spirit. Why was he now bestowed with the choice of destroying the light in her spirit? For the first time in his entire life, he wanted to protect instead of choosing to retaliate. He didn't want to press the button or give the command line he had done on Starkiller Base. He wanted to know, the reason to her patience and her care.

She paused, looking at his disheveled appearance.

“For your cat.”, she said coolly and marched ahead, to her surprise the cuffs didn’t tug, instead he matched her pace with a soft smile on the edge of his lips.

There was a silence between them, an understanding that didn't need an explanation. This unsaid connection, whatever it was, had to stop, she was sure of it. But before it could, she wanted to see his eyes one last time.

---

Tags:

@raisina @rheklas @avercado5

[tranquilitybasehotelcasino]

there’s this interview they did when the force awakens came out where domhnall gleeson says that the first thing he filmed on his first day on set was the starkiller speech and it’s like. i know this isn’t actually weird because all movies are filmed out of order but can you imagine walking on the set of a star wars movie and jj abrams is like Okay before we begin. How good is your hitler impression

[steve-needs-a-hug]

My World War I movie recommendations for Remembrance Day

1. Testament of Youth

Starring: Alicia Vikander, Kit Harington, Taron Egerton, Colin Morgan

Don't be fooled by the cover - this is less of a romance film and more of a powerful treatise on the mental and emotional consequences of war. Heartbreaking, haunting, and beautiful, this film is based on the true life experiences of Vera Brittain, a university student who postponed her studies to volunteer as a nurse during WWI. She later became a renowned pacifist and feminist writer.

2. Goodbye Christopher Robin

Starring: Domhnall Gleeson, Margot Robbie, Kelly Macdonald

A sad and sweet story based on the life of A.A. Milne, author of Winnie the Pooh. Alan struggles with PTSD upon returning home from serving in the Great War, but eventually finds joy and happiness inventing stories with his imaginative young son. This film sticks out to me in the way it highlights the intergenerational pain of the two World Wars, fathers who fought in one having to watch their sons go fight another. It also sheds light on how the beloved character of Winnie the Pooh came to be.

3. Tolkien

Starring: Nicolas Hoult, Lily Collins, Patrick Gibson

Based on the life of (you guessed it) J.R.R. Tolkien, this film showcases the beauty of a writer's imagination and the dearness of close male friendship (hooray!). When Tolkien and his group of fellow creatives go off to war, they are affected by their experiences in ways they did not expect, and sadly not all of them make it back. This is not a war movie per se, but the war is certainly a pivotal part of the story and you can see how Tolkien's war experiences found their way into his writing.

4. War Horse

Starring: Jeremy Irvine, Emily Watson, Tom Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, David Thewlis

This is a story of a boy, Albert, and his horse, Joey, separated during events of the war. We follow Joey as he is used by the British Army and eventually reunites with Albert (yay!), though both Albert and Joey encounter many dangers and tragedies along the way. A poignant look at war, and a sentimental tale of a boy and his horse.

[liminalpebble]

Sorry you’re dealing with travel delays! When you mentioned Domhnall Gleeson, though, it reminded me of when I first switched my Siri voice to the British male one. (I was going to say “don’t ask why” but I’m sure you don’t need to.) And my husband and I used my Siri to direct us to the science museum…

My husband looked at me like 😒

“Why is Hux directing us to the butterfly conservatory? 😒”

(It’s just the slightest vocal similarity, and maybe just to him and me, but it made me laugh)

Hello there sweet Lady!

And thank you for the fun prompt. It definitely kept my imagination occupied during the travel blues. I hope you enjoy this little bit of swooning over villainous British voices. This is new for me. I've never written Hux, second-person perspective, gender neutral reader, or a short drabble before, so lots of firsts!

Much love!

Peb

-----

The Sound of Your Cold Voice

Pairing: General Hux x gender neutral reader, second-person insert (no use of y/n)

CW: wartime violence, reader is wounded and captured, implied later smut but none described, implied future dubcon situation. Minors DNI

Word count: 500-600

---

Drifting back from unconsciousness, the first thing you heard was that voice; crisp, cold, polished, sharp enough to enact death by a thousand subtle, strategic, cuts. It was mesmerizing, pulling you back to wakefulness with an iron grip. Your eyelids flutter open to a mere squint under the bright lights and shiny black surfaces. There's something covering your mouth, pushing air into your lungs and you breathe it in desperately.

A mirthless chuckle. “Ah. There you are. Welcome back.” He gives an order and the mask is gone, the air is gone, and his threatening presence seems to steal all of it from the room. “Leave us,” he commands the medical technicians, and you hear them funnel out with a hiss of the door.

It comes back to you; the research station you were working on marred by flames and swarming with storm troopers. You were injured badly and so were your colleagues (the ones who were still alive, anyway). You were shoved before him, hands cuffed behind your back, and soot staining your white lab uniform. His shiny boots striding purposefully towards you were all you could see as your head hung in shock and grief.

“And what have we here?” he inquired, lifting your chin with one long, leather-clad finger.

He didn't expect to be struck by how beautiful your face was; compassionate and clever eyes, a bravery in them despite overwhelming fear. Even covered in soot and abrasions, hair disheveled, it only made him want you more. It jostled his immaculate composure and made him warm under the crisp black uniform, but he would never show it.

You spoke, though your voice shook with fear and anger. “A scientist...just a scientist. This was a peaceful operation, a research facility...Why? Why did you have to do this?”

Hux wasn't accustomed to emotion breaching his Teflon coating of ambition, but something about the vulnerability in your voice made him ache to touch you, soothe you with that hypnotic voice telling you it was all for a greater good, of course, all for order in the galaxy, you sweet innocent darling. He settled on doing so, but with a shield of sardonic teasing.

He tutted, yanking your face to meet his eyes with that icy, gloved hand. Hux peaked his brows in mock sympathy, though his piercing green eyes held none. “Oh, but it is all for the greater good, my dear. You'll see.” His voice dropped to a deep whisper, as his face moved closer. “And it will be my pleasure to personally show you.” As the implication of his words set in, you felt horrified at the unbidden heat rising in your body; the unmistakable fizzle of arousal snaking its way between your legs. He loomed, tall and thin, that brilliant red hair and green eyes reminding you of a fox playing with an injured rodent.

Now, with your back against the cold medical slab, prone and vulnerable and isolated with the dreaded General Hux, terror and temptation swirled within your body. His face, that beautiful lethal face, moved to a hair's breadth form your own as your breaths became shorter and quicker. His hand cupped your cheek gently, this time without the wall of leather between your skin. A tear slid from your eye and he brushed over it gently with his thumb.

“Now, darling,” the general said, with surprising tenderness, “Where were we?”

@ladyofthestayingpower @cloudyfacewithjam @lemongingerart @huxs-side-part

[talentforlying]

@ofmusicandprayers: ♬!!! — SONGS I LOVE

de selby pt.2 - hozier! first of all, the music video fucks beyond belief. second of all, domhnall gleeson my beloved, one of my initial fc options for constantine. third, i simply goddamn love this song, and finally, the cyclical nature of hellblazer! dissociation and the need to run as fast and as hard as you can to outpace your fate, whatever it takes! the symbolic killing & burying of one version of yourself to start over and begin anew, but it's still you in that body, and all the choices you made before will be made again! despair and exhaustion with the knowing of this, and yet still you start the cycle again in the hopes that this time it'll be different! that's motherfucking john constantine right there!! like:

what you're given, what you live in / darlin', it finds a way to live in you

he was dealt the hand he has, he didn't choose it, but he's still the one who picks up the spade and digs himself a deeper hole, every fucking time. he's given and takes the option to start with a fresh slate over and over again, but he still makes the choices that put him back where he used to be, and i flatly ignore the idea that his dead twin was manipulating events the whole time, that was all constantine. every failure, every grinding himself back down into sharp angles, every time something went wrong, was him being unable to break the cycle. he never needed any supernatural intervention to fail. he does that to himself, because there's no real separating line between john constantine and the hellblazer:

i don't need to know where we begin and end / i'd still know you, not being shown you / i only need the workin' of my hands

also, the way the narrator detaches himself from being the cause of his own failings is very reminiscent of constantine's habit to wallow in his grief as a victim, trying to find penance in the reliving of his pain instead of in making any effort to change his behavior so it won't happen again:

(if i was any closer) if i was any closer / (i could only lose me) i could be lost / (if i fade away, let me fade away) no more than i was

i also really love the reference to the third policeman, because de selby is described as someone whose initial works were lost, and is provided with sparse, mostly-contextual detail; reminds me a lot of constantine and how his legend has spread, through word-of-mouth and context. if you met him on a day he saved your life, he's as good as a god; if you met him on a day he failed, he's cruel and capricious. the principal de selby theory being that human existence is "a succession of static experiences each infinitely brief" feels very much like a description of comics as a whole, and a summary of constantine's life through that lens!

+ song for sandalphon: gonna switch it up with a classical piece, violin concerto "distant light" cadenza iii - finnish radio symphony orchestra, because i can see him playing this at the vatican by himself, full orchestra kind of filling itself in through sheer force of skill, and it just feels right? like the dissonance that still feels like a single note very much gives me 'angel amongst humans' vibes, something old and experienced and more layered than you could possibly imagine right underneath the surface. the part at 3:10 has biblical-angel-of-many-eyes energy to me and it's fascinating to imagine some of that coming out when he plays, and then the final lead into a waltz also feels right.

[leresq]

Rewatching the Sequels; some notes

The sequels do a good job of showing how brutal the First Order is in a way the original trilogy never showed. These are supposed to be space not-sees and the sequels were the first to display their cruelty

Watch the Stormtrooper Paradox on YouTube, it explains my shared gripe of the idea that First Order stormtroopers are child soldiers being brushed off.

Kylo Ren is cool idgaf what anyone says. Phasma is cool. Hux is cool. Pryce is cool. The Praetorian Guard are cool. If you disregard everything else about Snoke he's cool. Btw they wasted Smoke, it would have taken one writers' meeting to come up with something better.

I didn't like how the Mandalorian just took Baby Yoda out of the plot line I thought wrapped everything up nicely but now I realise if Baby Yoda stayed with Luke then the implication is Ren killed him so nvm :)

Dave Filoni's work is really helping bridge the gap between the original and sequel trilogies

The battle of Crait although just a rehash of Empire Strikes Back is too cool to discount

The fact that Poe, Finn, and Rose's plan was the reason nearly half of the transports heading to Crait were destroyed was really interesting. If they hadn't separated they wouldn't have met DJ, and DJ wouldn't have told the First Order the plan. I wish they'd have given some guilt to the characters tho.

Holdo's sacrifice is super cool but I'm not sure about the scientifics of it all.

Being in the way of that battering ram should have given Finn some nasty burns at the very least, it was melting through metal.

Are Force projections mental or visual?? Because Ben and Rey could see each other but I don't think Luke saw Ben in the hut, which means it would have to be mental. Also C3PO saw the projection..? Palpatine had to be connecting Rey and Ben, not Snoke. If someone as powerful as Luke died by projecting himself, then there's no way Snoke would have had the power to connect two entirely different people.

Kylo Ren should have seen that the projection was fake because Luke has his lightsaber, which he snapped in half just thirty minutes ago. It could be miswritten, but I see it as Ren being so enraged that he didn't notice.

I wish they wouldn't have killed Luke, but I thought they did it right. I cried rewatching it, and I've seen the movie three times before this.

"Snoke trained you well." "I killed Snoke. I'll kill you." "You killed Snoke? Damn that's a shame, well good thing I got a jar of them right here!"

I don't mind force healing and blaster freezing, I just wish they'd tuck it into the story more neatly.

They did Rose dirty in ROS

I know Jakku already existed in legends, but Pasaana could have easily been Jakku or Tattooine.

Was the C3PO disrespect supposed to be funny? It wasn't.

Zorii should have died, her surviving literally served no purpose to the story, in fact he death would have served it better.

Domhnall Gleeson's acting is some of the best I've seen in Star Wars.

Rey Palpatine is stupid. It would have been nicer if Rey was just a nobody who became special because of her actions and determination, not bloodline.

Kylo Ren being stabbed by Rey and surviving actually makes sense because I can imagine the wound would be cauterised long enough for Rey to heal it

I think it would have been a satisfactory end if Rey and Ben Solo died

Some people are Finn x Rey, some people are Finn x Rose, we all know the truth is Finn x Poe

It's a shame Daisy Ridley's career hasn't had much luck, she's a good actor.

Rey should have said "Just Rey" in response to the old woman. She's taking agency of her own identity and not letting it be based off what other people tell her. She's not a Solo, she's not a Skywalker, she's not a Palpatine, she's her own person now.

The sequels just seem like they would have been better written by someone on AO3. They're not abysmally terrible, it's just hard to look past their shortcomings. The music, acting, and animation are the best parts.

[angelofthenight]

Yandere characters I write for vs cold weather

(Y/n): I’m cold

Yandere!Sam Fortner: Here take my jacket!

-

(Y/n): I’m cold

Yandere!Riddler: Let’s huddle together for body warmth!

-

(Y/n): I’m cold

Yandere!Purge Leader: And? I can't control the damn weather

💖💘Happy Valentine’s Day💘💖

[handsome-enemy-you-despise]

Who would you cast to play burr and Hamilton in a film

that depends on which type of answer you’re expecting from. If we’re talking completely unserious and russian then you know my answer to that question.

if we’re being serious and still in a russian actors pool then to be fair the actor from the first pic would actually do nicely for Hamilton. I mean. Come on. look at him.

Burr is more difficult tho because while we do have many men with receding hairline they’re not quite Burr’s type.

I would probably stop on this guy just because I like him 👆

If we’re talking about actors YOU guys know then. well. you know I think Daniel Day-Lewis but it’s kinda unfair battle, he could play literally anyone, you’ve seen this man.

and when I personally imagine Hamilton I usually resort to Domhnall Gleeson just because it’s easy for me to add up period characteristic details to him

[oftatteredwings]

⸻  KAREN GILLAN. SHE/HER / have you ever heard of HOLD ON by jonas brothers, well, it describes LILY-GRACE BELROSE to a tee! the thirty-three year old, and DRESSMAKER & DESIGNER was spotted browsing through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know them? would you say SHE is more stubborn or more IMAGINATIVE instead? anyway, they remind me of a filofax bursting at the seams, trainers instead of high heels ( to work at least ), a slightly frazzled look on her face and the scent of roses, maybe you’ll bump into them soon! 

time in notting hill ; 30 years.

tw: teen pregnancy, adoption

ABOUT.

Name: Lily-Grace Belrose. Nicknames: Lils. Age: Thirty-three. Date of Birth: 1st January 1990. Birthplace: Edinburgh, Scotland, UK Occupation: Dressmaker and designer. Romantic/sexual orientation: Heteroromantic/heterosexual

Lily-Grace ( or Lils to her friends ) was born in Scotland's capital, the middle child of three. If there’s one thing she can tell you, it’s that there’s no fun in being stuck in the middle. 

She never meant to resent it. Her younger sibling was the baby and could do no wrong. Her older sibling the one they were all supposed to look up to, they set the example. For a very long time she felt like nothing to her family and it was devastating.

Despite this feeling, she slowly came into her own, picking up a keen interest in sewing that she picked up from her grandma. She would often sit in her front room learning cross-stitch, being shown how to make blanket squares, that eventually formed a stunning patchwork quilt the older woman kept on her bed.

She was determined from that moment on to do something with her life. Textiles became one of her most important subjects in high school and she began to make plans for college, all of her spare time dedicated to sketching out designs and putting together patterns. She rarely ever wore clothes from the store by the time she was fifteen.

At sixteen, however, the raging teenage hormones spoiled all plans she had and she found herself falling pregnant with her current boyfriend ( love the idea of this being a Love, Rosie type situation ). It was a case of peer pressure at its finest, her mission to fit in had left her as an outcast to be judged. She chose not to stay in school and instead was home schooled through to her GCSE’s.

The baby was born not long after she turned seventeen and was put up for adoption straight away. She wanted nothing to do with any of it, she wanted to forget.

Her attentions went to her studies then, working her way through college and onto a degree at University of the Arts London. The family having moved to the city when she was three, she’d had her sights set there from an early age.

She continued to work, picking up skills where she could, and then eventually began to sell her designs online. She now has a successful business and a small studio at the back of her town house where she works and does fittings for clients.

The dream is still to open a boutique one day, but for now, it definitely works as it is.

Over the last year or so she’s been finding her mind wandering to the baby she chose to give up, wondering where they are now, what they’re doing. There’s a part of her debating whether to try and find out, but it’s a decision she’s been wrestling with.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

- siblings (0/2). ( sophie turner and domhnall gleeson please. ) - ex boyfriend from high school. ( details in intro. ) - best friend. - close friends. - clients. - other exes. - flirtationship.

[therritory]

Dream king killer chronicles cast based solely on how I imagined them in my head.

Domhnall Gleeson - as adult kvothe

Conleth Hill as the Chronicler.

Robert Sheehan as Bast

[ivycovehq]

( willa ) woah! was that CALEB WIDOGAST walking down main street? i heard they’re not actually from ivy cove but come from CRITICAL ROLE. they’re 29 and live in CORDOVA GROVE but watch out because they can be SELF DEPRECATING + SHY but are actually INTELLIGENT + WELL-MEANING. despite them NOT HAVING memories, you’ll always think of EVER-CONSUMING FLAMES, DER KATZENPRINZ STORY, SOFT GERMAN ACCENT, BOOKS UPON BOOKS UPON BOOKS, CREATING A MAGICAL TOWER TO SHOW LOVE FOR FRIENDS, SOFT ORANGE FEY CAT when imagining them. /domhnall gleeson, he/him

welcome to ivy cove, willa! we can’t wait to meet caleb widogast. please make sure you read through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours

[freenewsreport]

Unveiling Rory Gleeson: The Talented Writer and Actor Behind the Scenes

Who is Rory Gleeson? If you're not familiar with this name, you're about to be. Rory Gleeson is a talented Irish actor and writer who is carving out a niche for himself in the entertainment world. But what's the story behind this rising star? What drives him to succeed in two highly competitive fields? Hold on tight because we're diving deep into the life, works, and talents of Rory Gleeson! We'll uncover everything, from his roots to his passion for storytelling. By the end of this, you'll see why Rory Gleeson is a name to watch!

The Gleeson Legacy: Rory's Influential Roots

When you hear the name "Gleeson," you might immediately think of Rory's famous father, Brendan Gleeson, or his brother, Domhnall Gleeson, both of whom are celebrated actors. But Rory Gleeson? He's charting his own path. Sure, growing up in a household filled with creative energy could have influenced his journey, but Rory isn’t just riding the coattails of his family’s fame. He's forging his unique identity through writing and acting. Rory's blend of talents makes him a versatile artist, ready to take on whatever comes his way.

Writing That Packs a Punch

Rory’s writing stands out for its depth, sharp wit, and emotional resonance. He's already made waves with his debut novel, Rockadoon Shore. Have you read it yet? If not, you should! The book is an exploration of friendships and personal challenges, set against the backdrop of the Irish countryside. It showcases Rory Gleeson’s knack for creating characters that feel real, relatable, and raw.

His writing style is conversational yet thought-provoking, much like this article (wink!). Rory Gleeson weaves subtle humor and idiomatic expressions into his storytelling, making the reader feel like they’re part of the journey.

Acting Talent: More Than Meets the Eye

While Rory Gleeson’s writing has garnered attention, let’s not forget about his acting chops. Yes, Rory is multi-talented! Although he's somewhat newer to the acting scene compared to his brother Domhnall, he’s quickly proving his versatility. Rory's stage presence is commanding, whether he's playing a dramatic or comedic role. With each performance, he continues to grow as an actor, demonstrating the same dedication he brings to his writing.

The Balancing Act: Writing vs. Acting

You might be wondering, “How does Rory Gleeson balance writing and acting?” Well, it's no small feat! Imagine diving deep into the mind of a character for a novel, only to step on stage or in front of a camera and embody someone else entirely. It takes discipline, passion, and a whole lot of creativity.

Many artists struggle to master just one craft, but Rory seems to have both down pat. Whether he's in a writer's room or on a film set, Rory Gleeson brings the same enthusiasm and professionalism. He’s truly a Renaissance man of modern times!

List of Rory Gleeson's Notable Projects

Rockadoon Shore (Novel)

The Actor's Apprentice (Short Film)

Irish Independent Column (Writing Contribution)

Theatre Roles in various Irish productions

The Future of Rory Gleeson: What's Next?

What can we expect from Rory Gleeson in the coming years? More incredible storytelling, for starters! Whether through his pen or his performances, Rory is poised for continued success. He's hinted at more writing projects in the pipeline, possibly another novel—fingers crossed! His acting career is also gaining traction, with more roles likely to come as he continues to hone his craft.

Why Rory Gleeson Stands Out

Rory Gleeson isn't your typical celebrity trying to do it all. He's genuinely invested in the art of storytelling, whether through acting or writing. It’s this dedication that makes him a standout figure in both fields. While some may assume Rory’s success is due to his family name, his body of work proves otherwise. He’s putting in the hard work, and it’s paying off!

Subheading: A Star in His Own Right

Rory Gleeson has successfully stepped out from the shadows of his famous family, proving that he has the talent to stand on his own. His skills as both a writer and an actor make him a rare breed in the entertainment industry.

Subheading: A Creative Force to Watch

The world should keep its eyes on Rory Gleeson because his journey is just beginning. With more stories to tell and more roles to play, Rory is set to leave a lasting mark on the entertainment landscape.

Conclusion

Rory Gleeson is a name you need to know. Whether you're drawn to his sharp and relatable writing in Rockadoon Shore or intrigued by his growing acting career, there's no denying Rory’s star is on the rise. His ability to navigate both the literary and acting worlds with such finesse speaks volumes about his talent and work ethic. So, what’s next for Rory Gleeson? We can’t wait to find out! Keep an eye on this rising star—you won’t be disappointed!

[cryoverkiltmilk]

it's really important to me that you all know that the motherfucker getting choked here filed a complaint with human resources about it

The tone of it has to be seen to be believed.

“It must, however, be pointed out that at present the number of planets destroyed solely by the unaided power of the Force is zero.”

...THE BALLS.

'If I die, it will be after dragging this giant goth cyberpunk weeb from one end of the outer rim to the other.'

“He found my lack of faith disturbing?  I have never claimed to be an adherent to his sect.  I found his lack of faith in this military installation disturbing.”

'I can excuse religious zealotry, but i DRAW THE LINE at failure of patriotism!'

This makes this the most British moment in Star Wars antagonists up to Hux's rant in TFA. (Because ain't nobody hates the English like an Irishman [thank you, Domhnall Gleeson])

The cherry on top is that Motti's actor is Philadelphia born and raised, so feel free to re-imagine all of these delivered with THAT accent if you want a real treat.