#legacyofvader

August comics 📚👽

July comics 📚💫

May comics via Elektra Comic 📚✨

April comics 📚🪐

March comics 📚💫

February comics 📚👽

✘ The thick soles of Kylo Ren’s boots echoed down the corridors leading to the command offices of the Finalizer. He found the notion of being summoned by Hux to be rather ballsy on the general’s behalf; having warned the officer more than once of his disinterest in being disturbed over trivial matters. His fists clenched as he walked, but he kept his movements slow, calm, and deliberate. There was little doubt in his mind that he would be on the receiving end of a lecture regarding the importance of the modules aboard the ship. His frustration had rained down upon 3 of the countless modules in little over a month. Perhaps he was overdue the lecture. Still, it was an annoyance to be summoned by the petulant general, and Ren’s patience was not to be tested. He passed into the shutter doors of Hux’s office, the hilt of his saber swaying slightly to his movements. He paced back and forth in front of the officer, giving of an aura that would cause most lesser soldiers to flee. Finally, he took a breath, addressing the general that had eyed his every movement with jovial amusement. “You wanted to see me, General?”

✘ It was times like these that the nerves really began to kick in. But this is what Ben had signed up for with this job. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it; it was just easier to blame his stress levels than it was for him to accept the reality that this program might chew him up and spit him back out. Ben Solo, who stood out like a sore thumb, even in college, had just been hired as a new art professor for a prestigious Northern university. This was a job to kill for; an opportunity at a “real” career in a field he enjoyed. He’d be a fool to screw it up. If there was a will to get through this first week of faculty meetings, there was a way. He finished washing his hands, giving himself a final look over in the mirror before shuffling out into the corridors and towards the conference room, room 119. He flung open the door and peered inside, only to find an empty room. “What th---” He murmured to himself, immediately in a panic to check the time on his phone. “Oh..” 8:35. He was 25 minutes early. Always. It never failed. Even if he woke up 30 minutes late.  An already-frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he flopped down into one of the faux-leather office chairs, tossing his ledger on the Mahogany roundtable. There wasn’t much to do except wait for another face to show up to the office. Another grumble, and he pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his thin features. But then again, it was times like these that a game like Flappy Bird’s usefulness really began to kick in.