#leaderwarrior

     this ship’s commander was now dead . 

     what made him PAUSE after the assassination--- the flicker of very distant memories . he’d known this man , once . had shared the pleasure of enslaving a planet with this man .

     and he scoffed , kicked the limp arm of whom he once shared UNITY with , and sheathed his sword in a flash of dim light . he just then noticed kolivan in the doorway , and the tail-breed cleared his throat . 

     “ . . . let’s go . “

therapy / talking about trauma / post - trauma starters.

@leaderwarrior

A justified statement, to say the least.  The young Blade’s mind was seemingly plagued with dark thoughts and paranoia as of late.  Not even the realm of unconsciousness could save her from its grasp, having woken herself up screaming with her lungs struggling for breath due to the night terrors that had begun to rear their ugly heads once again.

One of her comrades must have been alerted by her, or perhaps Kolivan was already passing through the halls.  It didn’t really matter at this point though, did it?  Arin was trying desperately to quell her remaining tremors as the galra loomed above her, but the slight purple pigment apparent in blotches across her hands easily gave away her current distress.  

Though every instinct told him not to panic and keep as cool an exterior as he could manage, it was all easier in theory than in practice as he was deposited by one masked figure in front of another- A LARGER ONE whose lit eyes of their helmet bore into the recently exiled prince enough to have him unnerved.

He thought he’d been prepared. He hadn’t trained under some of the empire’s finest FOR NOTHING, and yet here he knelt realizing how naive he was in his young age figuring he could sort it all out as he went. The Galra Empire had many many enemies and there wasn’t any way Zarkon would care if he were taken by some mysterious masked beings- and they had to have known who he was or nobody would have gone through the trouble of transporting him anywhere when found on a distant swap moon.

matthew holt is going to die. 

okay, not literally. this isn’t a flesh and bone, cessation of function,  cremate ‘em and stick ‘em on your fireplace kind of death. it’s a metaphorical death: the idea of mathew holt needs to die so that he can continue to live.

            “ and you’re sure about this? ”

he should know better than to question kolivan by now. call it fear of his own mortality, constructed or not: the solitary thought that has kept matt going for the last two years is the fact that he’s alive. though alien abduction, being held hostage, the abuse, his escape, the battles fought under the rebels— matt is alive. and with life comes hope: the hope of finding his dad, of saving shiro, of going home. 

                                                        if matt’s dead, who’ll finish what he started?

@leaderwarrior

    “Then stay here, it’s a slow day today anyway.” Sendak smiled as he pulled his handsome mate closer to his chest, a low purr rising in his chest. He yawned and curled up a bit as he wondered to himself what time it was, it seemed pretty early. At least it felt like it.

   Pushing away the thought, he moved to gently begin grooming their mate’s fur, something he always did in the morning. He loved to groom his mate, even if he sometimes choked on fur or got hairballs. He could ignore those things in favor of being able to make his mate happy and just being able to spend time with them, gods he loved them so much. His purr only got louder as he thought about how much he loved them.