#Surface Inspection Market

[semiconductorhub]

Surface Inspection Market Dynamics, Driving Factors, and Applications by 2032

Market Scope & Overview

The market research report includes company and product introductions, market status and development trends by type and applications, pricing and profit status, marketing status, market growth factors and challenges, industry forecasts, worldwide major players/suppliers, and regional market share. The purpose of this research is to look at both potential revenue streams and the present market position. The entire market ecology is investigated, including technological advancements, applications and end users, product offers, governmental frameworks, and predicted market growth.

The Surface Inspection Market research report began with definitions, classifications, applications, and market overviews before progressing to product specifications, manufacturing processes, cost structures, and raw materials. Following that, the Surface Inspection market study examined the current condition of the major global markets, including product price, profit, production, supply, demand, market growth rate, and projections, among other things.

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Market Segmentation Analysis

The global Surface Inspection market is divided into segments based on market participants, geographic regions, application kinds, and other criteria. Custom research can be incorporated to meet specific needs of yours. Finally, the report's conclusion section includes remarks from industry experts. A SWOT analysis of the market is included in the research study.

BY COMPONENT:

Frame Grabbers

Lighting Equipment

Software

Cameras

Optics

Processors

Other

BY SYSTEM

Camera-based system

Computer-based system

BY SURFACE TYPE

2D

3D

BY VERTICAL

Semiconductor

Electrical & Electronics

Food & Packaging

Plastic & Rubber

Automotive

Glass & Metal

Healthcare

Printing

Regional Outlook

The Surface Inspection market research study focuses on the world's key regions and countries while extensively examining the most important regional market circumstances. The examination included a SWOT analysis of a new project, an assessment of an investment's viability, and an analysis of the investment return.

Competitive Analysis

The research report provides an in-depth analysis of the Surface Inspection market, as well as information on a variety of industry participants and the competitive landscape, potential threats, and future development prospects. This research study thoroughly examines each company's profile. This area of research covers topics like as capacity, production, revenue, cost, gross margin, sales revenue, consumption, growth rate, supply, future strategies, and technological improvements. The analysis examines market participants, raw material and equipment suppliers, end users, traders, distributors, and other key players.

Major players in the surface inspection market are Teledyne Technologies Incorporated, Allied Vision Technologies, Basler, Cognex Corporation, Sony Corporation, Omron Corporation, Panasonic Corporation, Matrox Electronic Systems, ISRA Vision, Keyence Corporation

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Key Reasons to Buy Surface Inspection Market Report

Investigate the marketing strategies used by the most successful businesses in your field.

Determine the sector's primary motivators and constraints, as well as their impact on the worldwide market.

To comprehend the most significant industry-specific driving and restraining forces, as well as their global ramifications.

Conclusion

Through in-depth market analysis, you will gain a complete understanding of the global market and its commercial landscape. Following a detailed market analysis, the reader will have a firm grasp of the worldwide Surface Inspection market and its business environment.

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[bommagoni]

Surface Inspection Market Size, Growth Insight 2024 to 2030

[imrreport]

Surface Inspection Region Global Analysis and Forecast, 2022- 2028

Surface inspection systems are used for consistent inspection and monitoring of inspection and surface applications. Surface inspection reveals cracks, holes, joints, dents, structures and scratches that occur during the manufacturing process and cross-border transportation. Automated visual inspection systems are designed for a variety of components and can be used for packaging, engineering, pharmaceuticals, medical devices, automotive, production sorting and other automated and robotic applications. Surface vision and inspection systems help manufacturing companies improve process accuracy, productivity and save costs.

Read More: https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/reports/surface-inspection-market/ 

[powaraniket]

The Global Surface Inspection Industry Demands and Growth Analysis

The Global Surface Inspection market was valued at USD 3.48 billion in 2021 and is expected to reach USD 5.03 billion by the year 2028, at a CAGR of 5.4%.

The surface inspection involves the application of angled lighting and smart cameras to accurately detect surface flaws or features, in real-time, on objects as they are manufactured. Machine vision surface inspection can be a challenge owing to the nature and variety of the product or object. Surface inspection systems are utilized for the consistent inspection and monitoring of surface, and surveillance utilizations. Surface inspection searches for cracks, holes, joints, dents, textures, and scratches that arise during the process of production and cross-border transportation.

Read More: https://introspectivemarketresearch.com/reports/surface-inspection-market/

[marksmithimarc]

The global surface vision and inspection market is driven by several key factors. The increasing demand for quality control and automation in manufacturing processes is significantly boosting the adoption of surface vision and inspection systems.

[marketresearchtrendsandinsights]

Surface Vision and Inspection Market trends growth & Analysis

https://www.researchnester.com/reports/surface-vision-and-inspection-market/5539

[cameronspecial]

Helping rafe to use a fleshlight🫦

Helping Hand

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: SMUT and Sex Toys

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

A/N: I did research for this and an info video for a fleshlight had me giggling. Like, tell me why it has erectile dysfunction aid.

Masterlist

Rafe wasn’t a prude. He liked to fuck just as much as the next guy; however, before Y/N, he had never used sex toys. His arrogance made him think that only guys who couldn’t get it up would use them. 

She, on the other hand, loves the tools that can help heighten the pleasure for both of them. So she has been working toward getting him to bring the toys into their sex lives. It began with having him watch her use a vibrator. She used it to stimulate her clit, but when it came to penetration, Rafe stopped her and brought her to her release himself. The next step was being able to use a dildo to penetrate herself. It took everything in him not to take it out of her and throw it out the window. As she used the imitation dick, he got turned on by the sight. Maybe, letting her use the toys wasn’t so bad. 

Rafe’s upcoming business trip has her scanning an adult toy website she can use while she is away. Her eyes land on a particular object and it catches her interest. This could be the perfect next step in her plan. 

———

The night before his trip, he is folding clothes to pack. She tip-toes into the room in her purple silk nightgown that he leaves and her hands are behind her back. Déjà vu comes over him. He is familiar with this view. He rests the pants in the suitcase with a sigh, “What am I going to watch you fuck now? Is it one of those full dummy things? Please tell me it’s not that, they freak me out.” She giggles with a shake of her head. Her hair falls over her shoulders as she does. “Nope. Actually… it’s something for you,” she confesses, raising her hands to reveal the toy. His eyes narrow at the object. 

It’s a black cone-shaped object. One end is rounded and the other is flatter with a bump as well as a red scoop-shaped thing attached to it. “What is that?” he questions. She steps forward with a bashful smile, spinning it around so he can clearly see the end with the scoop. “This is a fleshlight. One of the best on the market, Baby.” She hands it over to him so he can inspect it. He identifies the bump as an imposter labia and clit. In between, folds is a hole and looking inside of it shows tiny bumps. He moves on to the red scoop, which also has the same bumpy surface as the inside. “It’s a fleshlight,” she says, wrapping her arms around his neck to place a kiss on his lips to butter him up. His eyes widen and he throws it onto the bed. “No, no way. I’m not using that.” She pouts and plays at the hair at the base of his neck. “Aww, come on. I bought it just for you, with my own money. Are you telling me you aren’t going to use my gift to you, Baby?” she whines. She looks up at him through her eyelashes and bats them in the way she knows gets him to do anything for her. 

His bottom lip nestles between his teeth and he surrenders. “Fine. I’ll try it out.” She jumps up with small claps of her hand, “Yay! I promise you’ll love it. It will make phone sex so much better.” He doesn’t say anything and just strips down. He settles onto the bed with his back against the headboard. His head tilts to the corner of the bed across from him and she hops on. She rests her feet under her bum, spreading her legs so he can see her pantie-less pussy. “I wanna watch you use it.” 

He obeys. His hand grabs the toy and he spits into his hand to help with the friction. After he rubs the saliva over his shaft, he replaces his hand with the toy. The silicone feels strange against him, unlike the warmth and wetness he is used to. It doesn’t feel pleasant, yet it doesn’t feel amazing either. He pumps himself a few times while staring right at her. He quickly gives up and throws the toy to the side. “There I tried it and I don’t like it. So, can you come here to take care of this,” he whines. She plays along, crawling over to him and throwing her legs over his hips. When he reaches down to line himself up, she leans over to his bedside table and pulls something out. She straightens up and shows him the bottle of lube and a remote control. “That’s because I was hiding one final piece of the puzzle.” She pours the liquid on his length, cupping it to spread it all over. Then, she guides the fleshlight onto him. He moans at the re-entry. She reaches between them and places his balls onto the red silicone.

She shifts so she is straddling one of his thighs and presses a button on the remote. It begins to vibrate. The intensity near his balls and tip has him thrusting slowly upward. She smirks at the motion. This is working. His eyes flick to her vagina and she begins to ride his thigh. Her moans add to his enjoyment and he doesn’t bother to hide his anymore. His hips speed up, causing her to giggle. “If you think this is good, wait until you feel what happens when I press this button,” she teases. Her finger hovers over it before applying pressure. The trinket works on its own to suck him into its grasp and the bristles brush against him. “Oh,” he lets out, grabbing onto her waist to give him something to do. She lets him help her move, “See, you like this.” 

The muscles in the Adonis belt spasm and she knows what that means. She presses the button three more times, speeding up the pace of the toy. His thumb falls to her bud and he circles it at the same speed. She collapses onto him with her forehead against his shoulder as they are both brought over the edge. They both pant in silence while they come down from their highs. She leans back to look at him with a grin, “So, what do you think?” 

“I think that maybe it doesn’t hurt to have a helping hand.”

Taglist: @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

[realmofimagines]

Don’t Make A Habit of Dying (Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader)

follow @cowboybxtch (my other account) for more ghost content, as i will not be posting on this blog anymore <3

Wordcount: 3241 Content: swearing, near death, graphic depictions of gore, blood, injury, ghost is in love with u, soap is oblivious, heroic ghost, pre existing relationsip, tension  Request: no Note: *just wanna preface this by saying it is not proof read lol* i am absolutely unashamed to be jumping on the ghost bandwagon. i finished the campaign yesterday and honestly i sort of rushed through it bc it was a lot of fun so this is sort of based on one of the missions but it’s all from memory so if anything is wrong or out of place just ignore it and lets call it canon divergence AO3 version here

“Fox, how copy?”

You grunted, clawing at the rain-soaked concrete and grit beneath your fingers as you stretched to reach your communications device. Your head was still spinning from the impact, and your eyes blurred as if you were lying underneath a moving river staring at the wrinkled water surface above. A high-pitched whine resonates in your ears, and you are intensely aware of the urge to vomit.

With a sharp breath, you are able to level yourself onto your knees. Your hand closed around the slippery radio, and you pulled it toward your mouth whilst collapsing your back against a slick brick wall. Your free hand pressed against the sharp, pulsating pain in your abdomen.

“(Y/N), I repeat, how copy?” Ghost’s voice crackled.

You swallowed the dryness in your throat, before pressing the voice activation button on the radio. The strong rush of adrenaline burned in your chest, but it didn’t match the wash of relief upon hearing and recognising Simon’s voice. You closed your eyes and relished in the sensation for a moment.

“I read you.”

He audibly sighed. “Thought I lost you there.”

“Nearly did.”

“You injured?”

You stared down and shakily inspected the palm pressed against your wound. Your fingers came away glistening with rain and blood, and your undershirt was soaked a deep red around the site of the injury. You replace your hand on the wound, applying as much pressure as you can muster with a heavily clenched jaw. As much as you wanted to be honest, you knew that due to the personal obligations Ghost felt toward you because of your secret relationship, letting him know just how hurt you truly were could compromise his position. He would, without a doubt, make his way straight toward you.

“I’m alive.”

“That’s not what I asked, Sergeant.”

“I’ll manage.”

“Good. Are you in sight of the church?”

You blinked hard to clear your vision and glanced around your surroundings. Through a rusted, paint-chipped iron gate, you could see the distant glow of the religious building and gathered that it was about half a mile away. You weren’t sure how much steam you had left in the tank, but you sure as shit were going to use every last drop to get your ass to that church.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“We’ll RV there. Johnny’s on his way now.”

“Copy that.”

“Do you have a weapon?”

You fumbled with your gear, cursing to yourself when you found nothing but empty holsters. All that remained on your person was a singular, small combat knife hidden within your boot, and you silently thanked yourself for taking such precaution.

“A knife.”

“That’s all you need. Stay safe, Fox.”

“Sure, Ghost.”

You released the radio trigger and clipped it back onto the front of your tactical vest. With a deep breath, you managed to pull yourself to your feet with the solid support of the brick wall. Your bloodied hand mixed with the rain, dripping down your chilled fingers and spreading the blood down your arms. You looked like a damn mess. You felt like a damn mess.

You first attempted to push through the iron gate but found it chained and padlocked from the other side.

Never the easy way, you murmured to yourself.

Turning back on yourself, you stumbled through a fruit market. Bruised and trampled limes and apples rolled across the puddled floor, seemingly abandoned in a hurry rather than packed away in their crates. Upon leaning on a stall for aid, you noticed that the civilians, presumably the shopkeepers, had been shot dead in their stalls. It was bloody and gruesome and told the tale of just how relentless the military-for-hire group were.

Your wobbly vision was clouded, and your lashes were thick with rain droplets concentrated with the blood dripping from your head. Your lips and fingers were icy cold, and each breath felt like the air was taking shots at your lungs like they were punching bags. You pressed onwards, however, knowing that if you wanted a chance at living that you needed to make it out of the Shadow’s web, and you could only do so by pushing yourself forwards.

The detour through the fruit market leads you to a couple of Shadow mercs, who chatted idly amongst themselves as if they weren’t standing upon the consequences of their war crimes. Families, including children, cried and screamed in the distance. Gunshots followed, and you tried not to flinch against the sound.

The mercenaries were armed, and they were blocking the only route you had. There was no easy way around this, but you had to improvise given your lack of weaponry and physical power. Your body was betraying you, and try as you might, you’d never be able to take these men in your current situation.

You tossed a beer bottle down the alleyway, hoping to distract them enough to get the upper hand. The left merc stubbed out his cigarette with a sizzle under his boot, before trailing down in the direction of the smashed glass in pursuit of the sound. Noticing your chance, you steadily crouch-walked your way over to the lone hostile and plunged your knife into his side and then into his neck.

“Just an empty bottle. It’s nothing,” the other merc stated, then turning on his heel with a final glance at the broken glass before he whipped his head around with a double take to notice his friend in a gargling heap on the floor, and you standing above him. “What the fuck?!”

He raised his gun toward you, leaving you no choice but to slam straight into him to throw off his aim. His gun flew upwards as he pulled the trigger, spraying an arc of loud, bright bullets into the air whilst you attempted to disarm him. He retaliated with a hard shove, though not before you were able to get your hands on the pistol in his hip holster. You flew to the ground with a thud and splash, but before he had the chance to regain composure and take aim at you again, you’d blasted two rounds into his chest, and then his throat. He collapsed on top of you in a heavy heap.

Another soldier rounded the corner, but you didn’t quite have the energy to recognise the threat before it was a second too late.

You were just lucky that Soap barged through the cafe door on your left and took him down with a clean shot straight through the temple. He turned his gaze from the man on the floor after confirming his death and reached over to you on the ground. He heaved the dead mercenary off of your chest and offered you a strong hand. You grabbed onto him and groaned as he yanked you upright, a firm hand on your shoulder to steady you as you fell towards him. With a concerned eye, he straightened you with a gentle nudge.

“Christ, Fox,” Soap murmured, eyeing the wound on your side. You immediately clutched at it defensively. “You’re not lookin’ so hot.”

You wheezed a breath and mustered a smile. “I’m running on fumes, but I’ll be fine. Let’s just get to that church.”

“Aye, Sergeant. I’ll take front.”

“Be my guest.”

You trailed sloppily behind Soap, cursing yourself for your inability to be as sharp as you usually were. You hated being a burden, but you hated letting the team down more. Your carelessness in the fight that broke out with Graves had cost you a life-threatening injury in a team that refused to leave anybody behind, even if it got them killed. You only worried that if you weren’t going to make it, you wouldn’t be able to see Simon before you went and that you wouldn’t be able to tell him you were sorry.

Your heart ached at the thought.

You and Ghost had been dating, briefly. It happened slowly. First, there were inside jokes, and then there were gentle teasing pet names, and then more than friendly touches… until one night the tension seemed to break, and you slept together, which was just a week ago now before everything went to shit. You almost regretted doing so, for fear that now you’d never get to see him again, to touch him again.

You stumbled to your knees and caught yourself barely by planting your hand solidly on the gravelled floor. Soap spun around and cursed under his breath before reaching for his radio.

“Ghost, we have a situation here.”

He leaned forward and grabbed at your biceps, throwing your arm over his soldier for support.

“What situation?”

“Fox was WIA,” he grunted with a low voice, pulling your body towards cover as a squadron of Shadows passed by in pursuit of the gunshots from only a few moments prior. Any second now, they would find the bodies and be alerted of your presence.

“Don’t piss around the bush, Johnny. How bad?”

Soap studied you with an uneasy glance.  “We’re gonna need backup if we’re gonna get the lass outta here.”

“What’s your location?”

“Uh—” Soap paused and checked for any noticeable landmarks. “We’re at the coffee shop just a ways from the fruit market—”

“Hang tight. I’m on my way.”

“What about the RV?”

“Stay put, Serg.”

“Yes, sir.”

The distance from the church to the market was about ten minutes, but Ghost cleared the distance in about four. His eyes were cold and steely behind his mask but became soft and expressive upon noticing your strained face and bloodied abdomen. He was gentle when he leaned for you.

“Jesus Christ, Fox,” he murmured, his tone an edge softer than usual. He leaned toward you to help stabilise you on your feet and apologised under his breath when you yelped in pain. “Who did this to you?”

You grunted and leaned against one of his large arms for support. You blinked the rainwater away from your eyes and maintained eye contact with him. Even now, at a time like this, you felt your stomach flip. You were so in love with him and that somehow made everything scarier.

“One of Graves’ boys. Not sure who. Didn’t get a good look before I killed him.” You answered.

“Atta girl,” Ghost praised. Your heart clenched.

Soap stared on with a worried look, his back tense with stress.

“Hold up,��� Soap said, raising a fist before lifting his gun to level his eyes with the sights. mercenaries stormed past the windows, and there was a sudden series of heavy bangs on the cafe door that Soap had barricaded with bar stools. “We’ve got company, Ghost.”

Ghost nodded, and then turned to you with an urgent look in his eyes. “Can you walk?”

You cringed at the stabs of pain and clenched your jaw. “Simon, I’m a liability. Leave me here and I can hold them off—”

“I am not leaving you here!”

You blinked in shock at the intensity of his tone. His eyes beyond the mask seemed desperate, and he clutched your face in a gloved hand as if uttering his silent pleas through his palm. You truly believed him and his words, for there was no reason for a man like himself to lie to you at a time like this.

“I said, can you walk?”

You nodded stiffly.

“Then let’s fucking walk,” Ghost answered, tossing your arm over his shoulder to carry the most of your body weight as he essentially dragged you toward the exit point of the cafe. His other hand gripped his pistol so hard that his knuckles began to numb beneath his glove. “Cover us, Johnny!”

Soap tailed your backs with a raised gun, and Ghost was just able to tug you out of the door before the hostiles blasted through and started swarming the place with bullets. Ghost seemed to lug you along with desperation, as you were practically limping at this point.

“You stupid girl, getting me all worried like this,” he cursed, turning briefly to shoot one of the incoming adversaries before continuing onwards. “Do you know how lucky you are that I’m here?”

He was acting characteristically sharp and dry, but you knew that it was just to glaze over his worry. Ghost didn’t often lose his cool, but you were certainly shaking his faith. You couldn’t judge him for his words and simply offered a weak smile in response.

You heaved a laugh. “Let’s just say I owe you one.”

He seemed to soften. “Let me take you to dinner when this is all over. Call it even.”

“It’s a date,” you wheezed, your words accompanied by laboured breaths. The pain was intense and radiated in waves of white-hot pulses and aches that made you limp and shudder in the agony. Your feet and hands were starting to feel numb, and your head felt like it was full of TV static. You just needed a short break, and then you would be able to continue.

You began tripping over your feet, and albeit he tried to keep you upright, Ghost’s strength wasn’t enough to counter the sudden push of gravity as you slumped to the floor.

“(Y/N)!”

Your face was white, and your eyes rolled back. He was immediately at your side, grabbing your face in his hand to inspect your breathing, and then the pulse on your neck with fingers that he’d torn a glove from. He was momentarily relieved when he felt the feedback of your heart, regardless of how faint it was. It was enough to keep going, to revive the easily extinguishable flicker of hope.

Soap rounded the corner, seeming urgent as he fired shots down the alleyway.

“Ghost, they’re gaining on us!”

“Shit!” He cursed.

Without a second thought, he unsheathed his pistol and handed it over to Soap who took it without question. Simon scooped his arms under your legs and back and held you securely to his chest before nodding at his comrade.

“You keep us safe. That’s an order, Serg.”

“Sure, LT, but we need to get a move on— now.”

“Let’s go!”

You jostled in and out of consciousness. It was soft and gentle, like a slow beat of butterfly wings. You would open your eyes momentarily, but there wasn’t enough adrenaline supply in the world to keep you awake, and things would quickly return to darkness. Your grasp on reality started to slip when the blood loss became critical, and the only thing you were aware of was the bruising grip Ghost had on your flesh and the overwhelming fear that you were about to die.

You vaguely notice the sensation of cold marble on your body, and then the tightness of gauze and tape being wrapped around you.

Ghost was manic as he watched your pale, lifeless body show little to no reaction to his movements. He’d torn your battle vest off and inspected the damage beneath your vest. He’d swallowed his anxiety and wrapped you up as best he could with what little supplies himself and Soap had scrounged from the village and proceeded to perform CPR on you when he noticed your breathing had come to an abrupt stop.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You couldn’t move.

Thud. Thud. Thud. Crack.

A blooming pain in your ribs.

A warm press of lips on your own, and the uncomfortable sensation of being filled with air.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The thrum of helicopter blades. Distant shouting. Ghost’s voice.

Ghost’s voice.

“Simon…?”

——

When you next woke, it was a slow and unpleasant sensation. White, fluorescent lights pierced through your eyelids, which felt heavy to open. The sharp sensation of the gunshot in your side felt dull, and you could tell by the swimming sensation in your head that you were drugged. You vaguely recognised the sound of a beeping monitor, and you flinched. The smell of bleach filled your nose.

“Good mornin’, sunshine.”

Your eyes fluttered open, wincing against the harsh ceiling lights. You turned your gaze to the figure hunched over in a small brown chair— a heavily-built man, adorning a balaclava with a skull painted on it. Ghost.

“Simon.”

“(Y/N).”

You attempted to lift yourself into an upright position, and immediately felt a flare of agony that had you coughing out a broken sob.

“Hey, hey, take it easy there, Fox,” Ghost murmured, immediately reaching forwards to settle you back down. You grit your teeth together and blinked away the sudden onslaught of tears that were born from the shock of the pain. He tried to sit back down, but you caught his gloved hand before he could leave and he didn’t have the heart to pull away. His stature immediately softened, and his thumb smoothed over your fingers and knuckles in an attempt to comfort you.

“They outta put more drugs in you. They sure did a number on you. Surprised you’re still with us.”

“I thought I was going to die.”

Simon huffed through his nose and tugged the chair closer so that he could sit beside you and hold your cold hands in his. “I thought you were, too, sweetheart.”

“How the Hell did you get me out of there?”

You couldn’t see it, but by the wrinkle of his eyes, you knew he was smirking. “This old dog still got his ways.”

A concern suddenly popped into your head as bits and pieces of memories began to slot together. “And Soap?”

“He’s fine, unfortunately.”

You smiled gently, feeling yourself relax a little. You turned to him and held his gaze, suddenly feeling intimidated by his sharp eyes. The heart monitor next to your bed began to beep at an increased pace, and your cheeks flushed.

Ghost seemed bemused. “Am I makin’ you nervous, darlin’?”

You buried your face in your hands and only dared to peek through your fingers when you heard him start to laugh.

“Don’t hide from me just yet. You still owe me a date.”

You threw your hands down to your sides and smiled. “Look who’s gone all soft. I wonder what the boys would think of you right now.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me regret saving you.”

“Don’t kid yourself, LT, you loved playing hero,” you retorted, a glimmer of mischief sparkling through your grin. You suddenly felt the atmosphere become slightly tense and heavy with the weight and reality of the situation. You could’ve and likely should’ve died back there. You weren’t aware enough of your surroundings to remember just what Ghost and Soap went through to get you out, but you could only imagine.

“Thank you, Simon.” You said, more serious this time.

He glanced away as if embarrassed. “It’s nothing.”

You reached closer and grabbed his masked face. In private, he would remove his balaclava just for you. You felt the selfish desire that he would do so just now so that you could kiss him but swallowed your urges for you knew he couldn’t compromise himself in the med-bay. Too many prying eyes.

He grabbed your hand from his face and kissed it, the warmth and pressure of his lips still present even through the fabric on his face. You were butter in his touch, practically melting through his fingers.

“Just don’t make a habit of nearly dying, you hear me? Nearly gave me a bastard heart attack.”

You smiled, staring at him dazedly. “Yes, sir.”

[hunny-pp]

PENACONY 2.1 SPOILERS /

[basically a more elaborate version of my twt thread on this]

I don't think I'm the first or only person to say this, but I do think Gallagher is v likely a memory zone meme

EDIT: heres pt 1.2 with additional evidence

Sunday deduces that Gallagher is an amalgamation of fifty-one Family members, who he's inherited physical traits from to create the appearance he has now.

Gallagher alludes in his own story that he may not be human

In short, Memory Zone Memes are amalgamations of multiple fragments of the Memory Zone, all have reflections of different memories, cognitions and emotions.

A meme in definition is when something, usually ideas, culture or behaviour is passed to another person through imitation or non-genetic means.

It makes sense for Gallagher, as he mimicked the physical traits of Family members without taking them or that trait away - these NPCs are very much fine and you can interact with them. It's more like a copy-paste onto himself.

Other little details include: -This could change in the future depending on if we get any fire units, but for Gallagher specifically, he takes the Raging Heart materials - which is harvested from a Memory Zone Meme-type enemy. This one's a bit of a stretch but it fits nonetheless

-His signature colour is magenta - shown in his clothing, his marketing materials and in the VFX of his attacks, his claw and his brew. This colour is specifically his and not something he had inherited from someone else.

Memory Zone Memes, especially "Something Upon Death" have stark magenta/purple/pink eyes and cores. When seen from afar or at least in a general sense, the shades are similar enough

-The writing style of Gallagher's stories feel strange, like different aspects of Gallagher's personality and life are on the outside looking in. Akin to a reflective surface giving off different reflections from different angles of the same subject. It adds to the idea that there are multiple aspects and fragments within Gallagher all looking within each other.

Mixology and The Dreamjolt Hostelry:

Gallagher's main interest outside of work is mixology. Like any culinary craft, there's an inherent science behind it, and it takes a lot of work and knowledge to craft well constructed cocktails and drinks. Symbolically, mixology complements Gallagher, as he himself is a combination of a diverse range of people. When you view these inherited traits isolated, you know they come from someone real - but when put together, they form One Complete Gallagher - cohesive and seamless.

While you can say the same for different branches of culinary arts, mixology in particular symbolically represents Gallagher the most. This is just from a layman's perspective but when I view the same with cocktails - from a general inspection it's one cohesive drink even if from taste or watching the process, I know it's all made with different components.

Notably, when Gallagher talks about mixing drinks, he describes it as akin to combining different emotions, experiences and memories into a singular cocktail and it's reflective of both customer and bartender's own current state of being.

His philosophy on mixology links back to the concept of Memory Zone Memes, manifestations of fragmented memories, emotions and cognitions nestled into a vessel.

The reason why I bring up the Dreamjolt Hostelry is because of the Vignettes in a Cup event (spoilers for it). It's not explicit in his stories or voicelines, but going by the Trailblaze quest, it's implied that the Dreamjolt Hostelry is the lounge/bar he regulars for a drink or to hone his craft as he's v friendly and familiar to Siobhan and is seen in the 2.1 trailer to be serving a Dreamjolt Domescreen (whether it's Lady or not doesn't matter).

Dreamjolt Hostelry is in the sealed off dreamscape Reverie, where the corrupted Dreamjolt Troupe monsters and Memory Zone Memes reside. Notably, where you encounter Something Unto Death in key moments of the story.

I'd like to believe Gallagher is very comfortable with the company of monsters, going by the fact that he himself is non-human.

In Vignettes in a Cup, Siobhan explains that the reason why she mixes drinks for the Dreamjolt Troupe monsters is that it helps regulate their emotions - since the dreamscape is falling apart and in turn they have become unstable.

Gallagher himself in one of his idle animations drinks an unknown concoction from his hipflask once his scar starts acting up - in which it settles back down. It's hard to discern in this point in time how long this has been going for, but as a non-human entity (meme or not), the dreamscape's decay is also likely affecting Gallagher and thus he has to regulate himself.

Why Do The Heathen Rage?: In the mission "Why Do The Heathen Rage?" we learn a lot of the Watchmaker's secret history as well as a general run through of Gallagher's own personal story.

First off, a lot of Penacony's trailblaze mission titles are references to songs, literature and media relevant to the themes of Penacony and/or by American classical authors or poets (ie Heaven is a Place on Earth, Cat Among Pigeons, The Tell-Tale Heart).

Why Do The Heathen Rage is both based on Psalm 2.1 Old Testament, but also it's a fragment of an unfinished novel by Flannery O'Connor. Fragment of a novel -> Gallagher is made of fragments of different people -> Memory Zone Memes are fragments of (I'm booed off the stage for being a broken record).

The story tells of a man called Walter Tilman who lives on his family's farm. There he starts to write letters to different people - particularly to Oona Gibbs, a black civil rights activist. However, he writes to her under the guise of a black man, and writes with the intention of testing the commitment and integrity of her beliefs.

Going with what we know in hindsight, Gallagher is masquerading around as a human, likely as a Memory Zone Meme as we've realised hopefully by now that they're the monsters most likely to pull something of Gallagher's calibre off.

This is all I'm gonna talk about from "Why Do The Heathen Rage" mainly because my additional theories are based off leaks and are more speculative.

Bonus section: "Something Unto Death" When it comes to Gallagher's connection to the Memory Zone Meme "Something Unto Death", a lot comes from his many symbols of death. This is just a bit of a bonus since we're talking about Gallagher likely being a Memory Zone Meme, we might as well address the elephant in the room as well.

For brevity, we'll call the little guy "Death Meme". Death Meme is a Memory Zone Meme created from the Dreamscape's fear of death and murder as "death" shouldn't be something that can happen in the dreamscape.

Gallagher has a FUCK ton of symbolism and nods to death. The most striking is that Gallagher's iconic "I'm Thirteen", which is the number for the Major Arcana "Death". (For additional reference I also think Thirteen could be the amount of Amber Eras he's lived in, or that he's at least 1300 years old. Also since he has a lot of dog theming, 13 dog years in human years is around 60-80 depending on the dog's size).

Additionally, thirteen is a common number to represent bad omens and misfortune - namely the well known Friday the 13th superstition, amongst other things.

When Gallagher makes you a drink, no matter what choices you make - the cocktail will have a memento mori/death/morbidly themed name and he will accompany most of them with a sardonic toast.

Gallagher's eidolons are names of different cocktails which fit his mixology theme. However, Corpse Reviver, Last Word, Death in the Afternoon and Blood and Sand are all death centric names, as if he couldn't get edgier enough.

There's also the call into question his playstyle, where he's a much more aggressive battle healer than the likes of Luocha and is the first abundance character to provide debuffs on the enemy, and derives healing through damaging opponents.

Conclusion: If you've read this far then I'm assuming you're as normal about Gallagher as I am. But yeah, there is so much to him I haven't touched on, his connections to the Enigmata, my continuation on this theory based on leaks and his shared past with Mikhail, what I think he'll do in the plot moving forward. This patch and its characters are themed around hiding secrets and that there's more than meets the eye. Gallagher in particular has proved to be the most mysterious of the trio, as while we've gotten a clear enough picture of both Acheron and Aventurine but there's still enough intrigue to keep them going, Gallagher's just given me more questions than answers man.

[gfmima]

category : 米哈游 原神 work title : he’s truly, madly, & deeply lovesick for you

“if only you can talk…” you crouch on the ground to pet your cat. it watches you curiously. tilting its head, it meows back at you.

come as no surprise, you find a lone lavender melon waiting on your kitchen window sill. inspecting the fruit in hand, you note that it was a day early from growing ripe. whoever left it must’ve factored in the timeframe of when you’d stumble upon it.

it previously bewildered you to see them appear without fail considering it was situated on your moody companion’s claimed surface area. you were thoroughly impressed to see that you had yet to be faced with complaints of a cat attack. after all, it was rather protective of you and your home.

members of the village know what an enormous grump it is; even hissing at greetings or coos from kind strangers.

today ultimately marks the nth moment you received a little present from your supposed ‘admirer.’ frankly speaking, you beg to differ. why would an admirer leave fruit instead of flowers? it made no sense. you’re more likely to believe that it’s simply a good samaritan and nothing more.

you tried to actively gather information from your neighbors in the past. alas, it was all for naught. they couldn’t give you anything useful, it was too vague, stating he’s an unfamiliar face wandering the quaint village. placing the lavender melon in a water filled basin, you carefully wash it and place it in a bowl with other fruits you were waiting to ripen.

with that out of the way, you prepare for your travel to town. slipping on your boots, you sense the unwavering glower of your companion. you guess it wouldn’t hurt to bring it along with, you just window shopping for future purchases.

“fine… you can come along, little one,” you playfully sigh, as you boop its nose.

the hike was a blur. your mind fully distracted with thoughts of your alleged admirer — who he was, what he looks like and his personality, and why he was doing this. you were immediately pulled away from your daydream after you take one step into the market.

the environment was bustling to the brim with chatters of a newcomer. it was a big deal for a small community like your village. the tiniest change received much attention. and although you couldn’t discern their murmurs, you were able to catch at least two words.

eccentric wanderer.

kabukimono.

the rumblings grow louder, inevitably seizing your attention and forcing you to follow where it comes from. to your utter shock, your feline companion meanders right under your nose. it was rubbing itself against the leg of a young man in peculiar clothing. despite its scuffed fabric, you can still tell it was made from the finest cotton in inazuma.

nonetheless, that isn’t what you focused on. your stare falls on the lavender melons in his arms. when your gaze met his own, he visibly shrinks at the attention. the poor thing looks frightened, hiding behind the veil draped over his head. your pet cat continues to purr for his affection, which raised a few brows — including yours.

he didn’t loosen up until you offer him a small grin and wave his way. his eyes widen in childlike wonder at you before red colors the tips of his ears and the apples of his fair cheeks. in the softest voice you’ve ever heard, he says,

“it appears fate has called for us to finally meet.”

since your younger years, you’ve heard tales about guardian angels from the elders of your community. they tell you that each being in this life has one of their own watching over them. truthfully, you didn’t believe them. you thought it was a load of rubbish. if it were true, then what do they make of those who perished for mondstadt’s freedom?

be that as it may, it didn’t stop their taunts. the sisters from the cathedral coo that you must’ve been looked after by the anemo archon himself! the less loony, but loony regardless, tease the wind sprite must be fond of you. the first three incidents they list can be passed off as coincidences in your eyes.

it first took place on a super windy day. your freshly washed laundry was swept off the clothes line to only heaven knows where, just to return neatly folded on your doorstep the next morning. the second time it happens, you were helping amber and the traveler decorate the main square of the city tor the windblume festival.

you stand on a ladder, as you mull over on how to fasten the flora banner to the building’s exterior when you accidentally lose your footing. gasps echo the area, preparing for the worst when a strong gust of wind passes, cradling you for a graceful landing. amber dashes to where you lay and fusses over you for any injuries.

aether, on the other hand, stays a foot behind you two while he waits for instructions. a breathless chuckle escapes your lips when it clicks in his mind who saved you.

and last but not least, possibly the most significant one and what had you second-guessing yourself, it plays out on your way home one evening after a day of running errands. you were walking on the grassy road outside of springvale when you hear a few hilichurls come near your direction. you can’t explain what occurs next without sounding like you’ve gone mad.

a gust of wind breezes past your figure, rustling the bushes distances away. it snatches the attention of the behemoths and earns you a window to flee. it was hereafter you start noting every unusual encounter. though, it was a senseless chat over a bottle of dandelion wine, a tiny remark from the town bard about your woes changed your mind.

“from your story, i’d say the anemo archon is greatly fond of you, miss,” venti slurs, then downs his nth swig of the night. the warm lighting of the tavern displays his inebriated state, highlighting the redness of his cheeks.

you’ve heard it one too many times. you would’ve scoffed at him if you weren’t sincerely piqued by what he had to say. it had you resting your arms on the table and leaning in to get a better look of his face. “the anemo archon?”

“hm...” he lazily nods his head along. “did you not know that he is still one with the wind? besides, it’s typical of barbatos to grow attached to his people. have you not heard of the stories? however… i have yet to hear a tale similar to yours.”

venti shrugs. “maybe the almighty god is endeared by a fair maiden like yourself.”

you didn’t reply.

you swallow the remainder of your drink before bidding him goodbye. deep down, you didn’t accept his answer. it made no sense at all! why would an archon fawn over a mortal? it sounds absurd. you make haste to return home and piece it together yourself.

without your knowledge, the subject of what’s been on your mind was overseeing your journey back. venti releases a big sigh of relief once he senses you set foot inside your cottage safe and sound.

[peachesofteal]

Farmer’s Market

This is the same pairing as Double Espresso, but you don't necessarily need to read it to read this.

Simon Riley/reader (hint of Soap/Ghost) 1.4k words Warnings-tags: inferred trauma, PTSD. Pining. Simon sees you again. This is another ramble that I wrote without editing, mind the mistakes.

Simon doesn’t know how to hold a fragile thing. He doesn’t have the stomach for love, or tenderness, or being held himself. He doesn’t know how to make his touch something of affection, and not anguish, and hasn’t known for a very long time.

Soap tried to teach him, once. Tried to hold him together and keep him from ripping apart. Tried to touch him beyond the surface, beneath his skin, to where his soul is rotted and festering, where dark scars of pain are embedded deeper than the memories that have infected his brain. 

It didn’t work. Simon knows it frustrated Johnny, but they both try not to dwell on it. It brings him shame, and he tries to push it from his mind like Johnny tried to push past the roadblock but in the end, they both failed. Johnny believes everything is okay regardless. He does not judge Simon. 

Simon is not convinced everything is okay. 

It’s not Johnny’s fault that Simon is this broken thing. Something worse than broken, actually. Something wrong. Unnatural. Like he’s died a million times over and come back worse and worse, each rebirth a fresh brand of wickedness upon his body.  He’s made his peace with it. 

At least, he thought he did. Until that day he saw you in the café. When he went running like he was still a scared child. 

Now, he’s dreaming about you. He’s dreaming about your voice, about the way the light reflects in your irises like a kaleidoscope, dreaming about the way your fingers turned the pages of the book, delicate and slow. He’s even dreaming about how those fingers might feel against in his skin, and instead of feeling horrified, he feels safe. Loved. Cherished. The dreams don’t turn to nightmares, no dark creatures crawl from the corners of his mind to gnaw on him, they don’t try to tear him apart like he’s used to. 

It's confusing and frightening. 

Maybe you were magic. Maybe you were magic, and you cast some sort of spell on him. And that’s why he keeps seeing you in his dreams, your body lit like up like a star, a heavenly glow spilling from your skin and bathing him in a gauzy cocoon of hope. 

It makes him uncomfortable. 

So, he puts you out of his mind. He saw you a single time, why is he dreaming about you? Why is the image of your face, the sound of your voice flitting through his brain at all hours of the day and night? He feels infected. 

He takes an extra-long assignment. And then another one. And then before he knows it, three months have passed, and he believes he’s been nearly successful in wiping you from his mind and memories, losing his grasp on the melody of your voice, forgetting the magic he felt when he first saw your face. He mourns it, privately. Mourns the impossible dreams and fantasies of something he knows he’ll never have, something he would never be deserving of. 

He believed he had cured himself of you. 

But, he was wrong. 

The farmer’s market felt like a dream. 

He watched you, unable to move, frozen to the spot as you leaned forward to inspect a group of vegetables, bright orange carrots with sprouts of green at their tops, eyes searching carefully for your selection, head nodding along to whatever the farmer behind the table was saying to you. Simon’s heart thundered in his chest while you exchanged money with the man and deposited your bunch of carrots in your canvas bag with a smile, carefree and easy in the warmth of the summer sun. Was he dreaming? He hadn’t been sure. He remembered needing to go the market to pick up some produce, something to last him the next week or so before he left for the next op, but suddenly, he had forgotten how he arrived here. He had forgotten what he had already purchased. He had forgotten almost everything, except for the shadow of a memory that was pushing him closer and closer to where you slowly walked in front of stalls, scanning the offerings and nodding hello to everyone you passed. 

You come to a stop in front of a flower table. He watches you trace your fingertips over the petals, longing flickering across your face, bottom lip tugging between your teeth. You seem indecisive and he wonders if you’re considering them for a lover, or a friend, someone in your life that you buy nice things for. Does anyone give you lovely things in return?

Your fingers wrap around the stems carefully, and you place the bouquet in your bag slowly, treating the blooms like they’re glass, cautious with them and ensuring they’re settled where they won’t bruise or break. Your care for their state makes his pulse flutter beneath his skin. 

You’re good with fragile things. 

He’s just about to slink away when you turn, everything slowing to a snail’s pace as you catch sight of him from the corner of your eye, recognition dawning on your face when you realize who he is. 

And then to his complete horror, your feet begin to move. You start to walk towards him, a hand extended as if to say wait. Wait, don’t go. 

“Hi.” You say. Hi. Somewhere in the back of his too thick skull he knows he’s supposed to say hi back, say hello, apologize for being a bloody creep, but his lungs feel frozen, and his throat feels tight. You wait, head tilted just so, enough to expose the satin skin on the underside of your jaw, and to his utter shock, he finds himself wondering for a moment, what that skin might taste like. What noises you might make if he put his lips there. He blinks when he realizes you’re speaking again, brain cycling to catch up to your words. “- a few months ago, right?” The café. You’re referencing the café. 

SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING. SPEAK. He’s screaming inside. Pleading with himself. 

But still, he says nothing, and then watches your sweet face melt into something confused, something wary before it shifts into an emotion he cannot name and-

You say your name. You say it slowly, moving your lips in an exaggerated fashion, like you think he can’t understand you. Your pointer finger jabs into your own chest, to reference yourself. You gave him your name. Why would you do that? He scolds you silently. He could be anyone, a sick man who wants to harm you, who wants to take things from you, things you would never give him. He could be a killer, for all you know. Why would you give a stranger your name? 

He is a killer. 

When he doesn’t say anything back, you chew on your lip and kick the toe of your leather boot into the ground, bobbing your head. Bloody hell. He’s embarrassed you. Shame scalds the back of his neck, and he averts his eyes, flicking them downwards to your bag, where the colorful group of flowers sit against your hip. You follow his gaze. 

“Here.” you rush the word out from your mouth, and pluck a stem free, pulling a brilliantly shaded orange dahlia from the bag and holding it out to him. “For you.” Your face is hopeful, wistful, like you actually want him to have the flower. This must be a dream. 

This cannot be real. 

He reaches for it. He cannot stop himself, even if he tried. Even if he wanted to, which he does not. In this moment, he really, really wants that flower. Wants to take it home, press it between a too thick book and then slip it between two pieces of glass so he can keep it forever. 

His fingers touch the stem. 

The tips of yours just barely graze his skin and he holds his breath, waiting for the nausea, for the panic to come bubbling up his throat. 

They don’t. 

Instead, something else happens. His stomach flips, but not in a sour way. His body tenses, but not in a fight or flight way. His heart, the thing that has been trembling inside his chest this entire time, skips a beat. 

This must be a dream. 

You’re three meters away when he rockets back into consciousness, mouth blurting the only thing it can manage in that moment. 

“Simon.” He calls to your back, and you stop in your tracks to face him, tiny smile tugging at your lips. 

“Nice to meet you, Simon.” 

[hapalopus]

Tips for figure collectors:

Don't be a completionist. It will drain the fun out of your hobby. You will be forced to look at expensive figures that you don't even like, just because they happen to be part of a set

Buy figures because you actually like them. Buy them because you like looking at them, because they're fun to display, and because they bring you joy

When you get the urge to buy, don't immediately give in. Try spending some time maintaining the figures you already have. Fix their hair, if the have any, dust them off, and rearrange them

Don't buy the figure you want first chance you get. They always get relisted eventually. Take note of the prices and wait until there's a decent offer up. If you just buy it first chance you get, you may scam yourself out of a lot of money

Supply and demand affect prices, but "rarity" is a useless term used to price gouge

Never use figures as an investment. Figure markets are volatile as hell, and you're likely to just lose money on it

Rinse your figures if you get them used. Just give them a quick scrub in soapy water. You have no idea where they've been

Please please please dust off your figures every once in a while, even if you keep them in a cabinet. It's better to dust them off regularly than allow the dust to cement itself onto their surface

A NIB figure is not a maintenance-free figure. Please inspect the box regularly, check that the figure isn't suffering from plasticizer leakage, water damage, bugs, dried-up rubber bands, or any other pests. If possible, remove the figure from its packaging and inspect it every once in a while.

Make the hobby your own. If you want to customize a rare figure or remove a it from its box, do it. Even if other collectors tell you not to do it. Especially if other collectors tell you not to do it. This is YOUR hobby and YOUR collection!

[weixuldo]

Allow Me// Ch 2

Vader x F!Reader

A/N: Hiiii! I am back and sorry again for the wait! A friend from out of town was in and I spent the week with her. But from now on, the updates should be more frequent! I also just wanted to say thank you all for the overwhelming support on the last chapter! I truly did not think that It was going to get so much love haha

You must be the unluckiest person in the Galaxy

Warnings: cannon-typicaal violence, weapons, cursing, death, harassment

_________________

You cowered under your bed sheets as you felt the demanding presence of Darth Vader approaching your door. Your heart raced with every whirr of his breath; you knew he could sense your fear.

All he had to do was open the door…

You waited for what seemed like hours for the man on the other side to come bursting in, but to your surprise- he never did, instead he stood dormant at your door for a while until you heard him walk away.

What did he want to do? Intimidate you? If he was going to kill you, why didn’t he do that? 

Thoughts raced through your tired mind as you slowly lowered the covers from your head and tried to calm down.

As much as you tried you couldn’t seem to find sleep for the rest of the night.

Begrudgingly, the morning shift system dinged, notioning for you to go to your station for the day. You pulled yourself out of your bed and put on your uniform, yawning the whole way to your post. 

As much as the events of last night disturbed you, you were too exhausted to be fully comprehensive; so when you bumped into a supply cart coming down the corridor you could barely make out the annoyed shouts of the worker. 

“My apologies” you offered, continuing down the hall as the cart worker shouted some distasteful insults your way.

Once you entered the station your supervisor handed you a holopad and gave you your assignment for the day. You were to check some of the machines on the bridge and then report back to your boss. 

Sadly for you the bridge was on the totally opposite end of the executor, but at least today’s assignment was fairly short; before you knew it you would be able to go back to your quarters and fall asleep.

The promise of sleep motivated you to hurry down to your assigned station for the day, thinking of nothing but fantasies of your soft pillows. In the midst of your daydreams you ran into a trooper who was heading down the intersecting hall. The impact made you fall back onto your ass and you looked up at the trooper with a scowl.

“What are you looking at? You’re the one who ran into me!” he barked before continuing on, but not before cursing you under his breath.

You shook your head and grabbed the holopad that landed beside you.

Fuck.

There was a large crack all the way down the small tablet’s surface, great… another expense that’ll come out of your already small paycheck. This has truly been the best week, what next universe? 

You finally entered the bridge with the sliding of the doors and observed the glossy obsidian color of the bustling room. Officers and troops bustled on the platform and in the pits to the sides of the main bridge.

You made your way to the lower deck of the bridge and set your bag down beside the machine you were to be inspecting. The generals in the stations surrounding you seemed to be pretty lax with their jobs; leaning back in their chairs, talking about the newest blasters on the market rather than actually paying attention to their screens. 

The one closest to you kept tapping his foot against the machine you were trying to inspect which frustrated you immensely. 

“Excuse me, Would You mind moving your chair to the side a little, I need some more room to check up on the unit” You asked, as politely as you could, expecting an “ok”. Instead the man scowled and sat upright in his chair. 

“No, I will not. I need to stay here and do my duties- the duties of a general, mind you. I’m sure your…inspection work… is much less severe, so I think you can wait” the man said with a patronizing tone. 

What in the galaxy has gotten everyone so stiff today? The entitlement of these generals was crazy. You rolled your eyes as you inspected the equipment in front of you; you took the metal plating off and carefully laid out the screws in order to put them back on when you were finished. 

Before you could actually get to the inspection part of your job, you felt something hit the back of your head; it was a piece of garbage.

You shot your head towards the direction of the trash and saw the same general, snickering with some of the others in the row before one offered, “oops, sorry, I missed the trash”. 

How were these idiots, who obviously didn’t give a shit about their job, getting paid more and getting more recognition than you. You may not have been totally invested in the empire’s agenda, but you did care about the quality of your work. 

You took a magnifying utensil to inspect the crossed wires in the back of the unit; that's the problem, the wires were getting tangled with every tap the general dealt to the machine under the desk. 

You reached down into your bag and grabbed some pliers to untangle them, but before you could get started, you saw the screen above you blinking red.

You didn’t really know what exactly you were looking at, but it didn’t look good; it looked like there were a few fighter planes approaching the back side of the executor.

That was definitely not good; you looked at the rude general who was supposed to man the station, he was busy laughing it up with some co-workers on the other end of the deck. 

“Sir” you called, attempting to wave over the rogue general.

Nothing. 

“General!” you shouted a little louder. 

He whipped his head towards you with narrowed eyes until he saw the screen and all the color drained from his face. He ran over to his desk, frantically pressed a few buttons, flipped two red switches, and shouted some commands.

Soon you heard the muffled reverbs of the ship releasing tie-fighters into space. 

The man sat back in his chair and faced forward, he was sweating and you could see his legs trembling next to the unit you were almost done patching up. 

Before you knew it the whole bridge went silent, no more bustling, no more smiling, only silence and anxiety filled the room. What the fuck just happened?

Soon enough the doors of the bridge swished open and your silent questions were answered.

The dark figure of Darth Vader came in with a determined strut; he was not pleased. You lowered your head and finished up tightening the screws to close the machine so you could leave asap. He was the last person you wanted to see today, last night he literally stood outside of your door-probably debating whether to kill you or not.

“Someone in this room has allowed rebel ships to enter our flight deck. Of course we exterminated them, but that does not excuse the uncalculated mistake of someone in this room.”

Vader continued down the top deck; once he halted so did the entourage of troopers behind him. He slowly turned his head and surveyed the room trying to determine who’s blunder allowed rebels to get that close to the ship.

Though you know you did nothing wrong in this situation, your anxiety was through the roof. 

Swiftly, he turned towards your direction-

Fuck.

There is no way in the galaxy-

“Your fear betrays you, General” his mechanical voice stated. 

You exhaled a short breath, you were indeed not a General. But before you could completely relax the man beside you protested. 

“She was the one who failed to alert me, it was not my fault” the General exclaimed standing tall and pointing an accusing finger at you. 

What?! 

Vader already had it out for you, this was just gonna add to the problem. 

He slightly shifted his lenses towards you before turning back to the man.

“I recall the empire bestowed the title of General upon you, not her; am I correct?” Vader questioned in an even tone.

“Y-yes My lord” 

“In that case, You are responsible for your station, not her” 

The worried officer frantically looked around, before pushing past you to make a break for the exit. His forceful push made you tumble down the small steps from the desk areas to the actual floor, as well as your bag. You landed harshly and winced at one of your heavier tools landing on your arm.

Before you could get up, Lord Vader had a trooper blast the general through the chest and his limp body fell backwards beside you. 

“Someone get this garbage off of my bridge” Vader said with a flip of his cape as he headed for the exit. 

You began to lift yourself up from the floor, truly ready just to go back to your room; you didn't get any sleep, kept bumping into people, your holopad cracked, dealt with rude generals, got pushed down some stairs, and just had someone die beside you, just another stellar day in the empire. 

The bustling sound of the troopers halted making you look back up; Lord Vader was looking straight at you. 

“And bring that officer to a meeting room, I need to speak with them”

Just as you began to protest, two troopers secured your arms.

“Better shut your mouth little one” one snapped as the other just laughed.

Great.

_______________________________

The room was cool and dark, a blinking light in the corner of the room indicated that you were being surveilled. Thankfully you were unbound, but didn't dare to wonder about the room- he could enter at any moment.

But why were you here? Was it because of those troopers the other night? Did the sith lord think that you were spreading rumors about having “relations” with him? Was it because people you had bumped into were complaining about your seeming lack of spatial awareness? No, that’s just outlandish…but what if?

To be honest you were too exhausted to think straight, everything was seeming like a possibility, and you had the worst week, so at this point you didn’t really give a  fuck about what would happen to you.

Maybe if he killed you, you would actually find some peace. 

The cool air of the room was making you sleepy, your eyelids felt like weights and you couldn't stop them from closing. 

Whoosh

The sound of the door swooshing open awoke you from your light sleep, how long had it been? How-

Suddenly all traces of sleep shook from your body as you came face to face with the man in the dark mask. 

Sure, you said you wouldn’t mind dying, but now that death was staring you in the face, you felt inclined to plead for your life. 

“M-my Lord, I apologize I was”

“Resting… I see. Perhaps I took too long to make my way here” he said, sliding the door shut behind him. 

“No sir- um.. My Lord” you corrected as you nervously fiddled your fingers. 

“You may calm your anxieties, officer” the man in front of you said as he slowly made his way to the table you were seated at. 

His words didn’t do much to calm you but you did relax your posture a bit. He took a stand in front of you, making you eye level with his control panel.

He was so much larger than you remembered, probably since you were more wary of him since you were in his direct interest as of now.

“Am I to be punished for earlier?” you asked, avoiding eye contact with his lenses. 

“Not at the moment, is there something I should be made aware of?” 

“No, My lord. It’s just that the general who spoke out was not manning his station and I did not want his words to cloud what really happened” 

“I thought nothing of the sort, I know you would not allow for such a careless mistake”

He spoke with such a neutral tone that you couldn’t determine whether he was playing with your mind or if his words were truly sincere. 

“As of late I have observed your work and am pleased by your dedication to the Empire” he said.

“I appreciate your faith in my work, my lord; but may I ask why I was called here?” 

The Sith lord turned towards the camera in the corner of the room and back at you before taking a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“I wanted to thank you for your work on the executor, personally. I have noticed others on board have not treated you the best and yet you still provide quality service”

Your heart began to race even faster, was this a dream? Was Darth Vader himself really praising your work right now? And what baffled you even more is that he noticed how you had been treated throughout your posting on his ship. 

You really didn’t expect Vader to care that much about his employees, but maybe he was a bit softer than everyone thought…(unlikely).

Before you could respond he placed a holopad on the table that showed a nicely constructed grave stone with your mothers name, what was this? Your father couldn’t afford this.

You looked up at the man who filled the room with echoes of his mechanical breathing. 

“I-I don't understand-”

“As I mentioned earlier, I am regretful you were not able to attend your mother’s funeral procession, so I had the empire deliver your father funds for her memorial. It’s the least I could do” he said, clicking the projection off. 

You sat in the metal chair, bewildered; why in the galaxy would Darth Vader give your father money for your mother’s grave?

Your family was a bunch of nobody’s… Nothing attached to your name, but now your mother had a grave of high gentry. It didn't make sense.

As you pondered his motives, the sith lord rose from his seat and proceeded to walk to the side you were on. 

You were shaken from your thoughts when you felt a firm and heavy hand on your shoulder. It was a feeling that should have invoked fear, but instead you felt butterflies. 

Not many people had been nice to you in your life, so were you just being delusional and trying to make it seem that this sith lord really cared about you?

You knew you needed to be more cautious around him, but you couldn’t help but smile up at the dark figure looming behind you. 

“You are stronger than you know, officer, do not let anyone on this ship tell you otherwise” he said before patting you once more and leaving. 

______________________________

The cool sheets of your empire-grade bed felt nice after your warm shower. You settled into bed with a new sense of pride, someone important, no. one of the most important figures in the galaxy, recognized your skill and talent. He recognized your plights and struggles and gave you encouragement for better. 

As you slept your mind seemed to compile every snippet of time that you interacted with Vader into a long dream; not that you minded, but your brain was definitely not helping you suppress your delusions. At this rate you’d be dreaming of a future with the most feared man in the galaxy. 

It was stupid to think that was possible, but after all, it was just a dream,

no harm in that. 

Except for the fact that on the opposite end of the executor, a sleep deprived Vader couldn’t seem to clear his mind enough to meditate.

He was too busy envisioning the face of that beautiful officer he had been encountering more and more frequently. 

This was not a part of the Sith’s agenda, you were a distraction. You needed to be wiped from his mind, but he couldn’t seem to do it. Of course there was an obvious solution; get rid of you- whether it be a transfer or death-

just get rid of you.

But no matter how hard he tried to call for the orders, he couldn’t.

How could he when you had been the only thing that made him feel remotely human again? 

***

A/N: heheh tysm for waiting for this chapter and i hope this story is interesting u guys!!

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