#you know that moment in welcome to the black parade where they modulate and it's just such a good moment

[20dollarlolita]

Machine embroidery tutorial: Shaded pointe shoes.

I know from working in a sewing machine store that a lot of people are intimidated by machine embroidery. So, I made this pattern the other day, and let's go into how I stitched it out.

Embroidery does not need to be this hard. If you've never used the embroidery part of your sewing machine before, stick some cheap stabilizer in the hoop with some fabric, grab a random pattern from inside your machine, and run all or part of it. Once you do this, you will be much less afraid of it. Some brands of machines will include some stabilizer and fabric for you to run an initial test on.

So, let's get into something more complicated. There's a few things that we're going to do to make this more complicated. The first is the surface that we're embroidering on. I'm using a dress from Five Below, which is made of a knit fabric without a whole lot of stretch. The surface that you embroider on does impact how you want to set up the design. I also want to do the embroidery very close to the bottom edge of the dress, so it's won't fit in the whole hoop. The third difficult thing about this design is that there's a machine applique in the very start. This applique will let you embroider this on a fabric that isn't pink, and the shoes will stay pink.

Regarding the applique, I've been told that it's small enough that you could cut up an actual pointe shoe and use the satin from that, if you want to. I don't have a shoe on me, since I don't dance (I just do the costumes). But, if you're making a gift for someone who dances on a level where they're throwing away dead pointe shoes instead of keeping them in a memory box, it could be a fun addition. Here is a template to show you how big the pieces need to be. Important: do not cut out the appliques using this template. The machine will cut them out for you later. You can use this template to know if the pieces of fabric you are using for your applique will be big enough. You want your pieces to be larger than this template, but they don't need to be significantly larger.

The first problem that we're going to deal with is the fact that the dress has a small amount of stretch in it. We don't want the section of the dress that has our embroidery to stretch at all. At best, it'll look bad, and at worst, it'll destroy the whole embroidery. To stop the area with the embroidery from stretching, we're fusing a fusible non-showing mesh stabilizer onto the area to be embroidered. I'm doing this design in 6x6 hoop, so I got a piece that was about 8x8 and fused it on the area.

When you're using fusible stabilizer, you want to iron it on from the fabric side. Some nylon meshes will melt if you iron them, but most importantly you want the face of the fabric to be perfectly smooth.

When the design is done, this stabilizer will remain in the design forever. This stops the design from stretching, even when the garment is worn or washed. The mesh is light and flexible enough that it doesn't drastically change the way the fabric moves.

The next thing we need to do is add stabilizer to the hoop. Embroidery machines put a lot of stress on the fabric, and so it's not usually possible to embroider without stabilizer. In this case, we're also using the stabilizer to hold the fabric, since we can't get it in our hoop.

This is two layers of soluble tear-away stabilizer. If I'm using tear-away, I always use lightweight tear-away. Using multiple layers of tear-away will put less stress on the stitching when you rip it away, because you rip one layer at a time. This requires less force than ripping a thicker layer away all at once. We're using tear-away because we don't want to keep all this stabilizer in the design. The specific one I'm using is a tear-and-wash stabilizer, where the extra bits of tear-away can be washed out of the finished design.

The other thing that I did while the iron was still hot was to press the pink satin that I'm going to use for my applique. Applique is much easier if the fabric you're using isn't wrinkled.

We're going to pop the hoop into the machine. Now is a good time to go into your machine's manual and find out where the basting line setting is. Bernina, Viking, and Pfaff all make this super easy, and Baby Lock and Brother do not. For Brother and Baby Lock, it's often in the "embroidery edit" mode. If it really gives you trouble, tell me what hoop you need it for, and I'll make you a version of this file with a predone basting line.

Some people like to spray-baste into the hoop. I do not like this, because it makes your hoop and your machine all ugly and coated in spray shit. If you are one of those people who likes spray, 100% take the hoop outside to spray! It's not good for your body and you'll get overspray glue all over your shit. If you're not a person who spray-bastes, do not become one.

Some people like to use tacky or sticky tear-away for this. That's a completely fine and valid option, but that shit is expensive. Basting line is cheap. A general stabilizer rule is that you can cheap out on tear-away and cut-away, go mid-price on fusible, and buy a good brand of tacky or wash-away. This is because it's pretty hard to fuck up cut-away stabilizer, but also pretty hard to make a good stabilizer that's also tacky and n'gones when you need it to. Since I have 200 things I'd rather do with $86 than buy a roll of stabilizer, I just use the basting program for 99% of my embroideries.

Before you run the design, flip through your color blocks. Make sure that your design starts with five blocks of the same color. If your machine decides to "help" you and merge the color blocks together, this won't work properly.

Now, put your fabric in the hoop, wherever you want the final design to go. I lined the hem up with the bottom of my hoop. Run your basting line, holding your fabric flat on the hooped stabilizer. You might need to pause and unpause the machine several times to move your hand and keep the fabric flat. Remember that as long as your hand is flat on the fabric, and you have a presser foot on your machine, you can't hit your fingers with the needle. Despite what this image shows, I often hold the fabric down with my whole hand in the center of the hoop.

Floating the fabric like this, instead of hooping, also allows you to line the fabric up very precisely. It's hard to hoop something 100% straight, but it's pretty easy to float it 100% straight.

Another advantage of floating with a basting line is that the line will show you exactly where the design is going to go. If you don't like where it's going to go, you only have about 50 stitches to rip out so that you can change the location. You'll know that your embroidery unit will have enough space to move. All hail the basting line.

The machine is going to sew an outline, and then stop. This is showing you where to place your applique fabric.

A good general rule is that any time a pattern sews an outline and then stops, you're supposed to put fabric down there. If your pattern does this, and you're not sure why, see if there's any instructions that tell you what applique fabric to use where.

If your machine sewed this outline and then kept going, make sure you have color block merge turned off, and that you're not in monochrome mode.

Just like when you were basting your garment onto the hoop, you're going to hold the applique fabric over the outlined area, and keep it there while your machine runs the next color.

Once the machine has sewn the applique fabric down, you'll want to trim away the excess. I use some very small curved scissors for this, since the curve lets me get very close to the stitching line. Generally, you want to be as close as possible to that line.

Once you have your applique fabric sewn in, you can more or less just watch the machine and change the colors when it asks you to. You'll see that I have a bulge in my applique fabric on the lefthand shoe. This isn't ideal, but since this design has so much stitching, it all got flattened down in the end.

You'll see that there's a lot of crosshatching on the surface before the colors go on. This is to stabilize the fabric and keep it in place when the big feathered stitches start. These stitches also sew the stabilizer to the back of the fabric, which means that if your fusible mesh starts to lose fusion, it'll still be completely sewn down.

If your machine has manual tension, you'll want to lower it after the crosshatching layers are done. You can change it after color block 5.

The reason that you're lowering your tension is that these stitches are particularly lorge and lomg, and that means the machine can pull just a bit harder than normal when it moved form place to place.

If your machine doesn't cut jump stitches (the long stitch the machine leaves when it jumps from one section of embroidery to another), you will want to trim them between color blocks, instead of waiting until the end.

If you're watching this stitch out and going, "Wait, I was told my machine embroidered at 1200 stitches per minute! This isn't going at 1200 stitches per minute! What gives?" well, I'll tell you. Your machine's stitch speed was rated by the absolute fastest that the machine head can go. It doesn't actually take into account how fast the embroidery unit can move. Since these are longer stitches, the embroidery unit can't move fast enough to keep up with the machine going 1200 stitches a minute, so the machine has to slow down to deal with the e-unit's speed.

If you did this correctly, the back of your embroidery will not be sewn to the front of your embroidery, and you'll have something that looks like this.

You'll need to cut your bobbin thread about every 10 stitches in your basting line. This is pretty easy, because the stitches are so big. I do this from the back side because the stabilizer protects the fabric from my scissors.

Then, flip it over and rip out your tear-away, one layer at a time. You'll notice that my back side is really ugly. This is because Viking and Pfaff don't cut the bobbin thread between jump stitches. In the old days, this meant that they jammed and locked up significantly less than other brands, but now there's things like wiper feet and tail-clearing programs that work a lot better. No, there's no way to activate bobbin jump cuts. If there was, I'd have done it by now.

Now, using your iron if you need to, peel back the extra fusible mesh and trim around your design. You can get closer to it than I did here. I'm just lazy.

If you're using polyester embroidery thread, you get some pretty good results by sticking a press cloth over the design and ironing it. This will make sure the threads line up and stay extra shiny.

And that's important because polyester thread already doesn't have the same luster as rayon thread. It's more sparkly than lustrous. However, some brands of thread are just easier to work with. When we're testing machine problems in my store, we test with isacord, since it's the least likely to have problems, so we can rule out thread problems. But man, I just think it's so ugly. I used polyester for this design, because it's long stitches on a garment, and I need that strength, but I'm not happy about it.

Anyway, there you go, that's the basics of a somewhat complex machine embroidery pattern.

I'm considering making a separate blog for embroidery stuff. I'm really tired of the embroidery industry charging for tutorials like this or instructions on the embroidery software (looking at you, Floriani Total Control University DVD for $218), but this blog isn't really for my vendetta against the embroidery industry.

[warp--space]

Can... Can we get some enemies to lovers headcanons for you and All Might?

Oh boy. So uh. Welcome to the MySpace Universe.

General personality headcanons:

Rian aka Warp Space is a young and spirited hero in a mission in Japan to try to take down The World's Number One Villain. He knew he was probably in over his head... And yeah he was right, but he wasn't a quitter.

All Might is that villain, and he's a rough and tumble bastard who was not expecting a cute little portal-maker to try to go one on one with him. It would have been insulting... If the younger man wasn't so fucking adorable.

Rian has a day job at a coffee shop to keep the lights on, since he's young and "expendable" and going largely unpaid for his troubles.

All Might tracks him down and starts visiting the coffee shop in disguise. He knows everything about Rian, thanks to his extensive network of allies.

Rian knows fuck-all about him, since the Villain wears a mask and uses a voice modulator.

All Might is absolutely fucking fascinated by this odd little American who seems to have nothing but pure hubris and adorable determination on his side.

Warp Space is convinced that he can win EVENTUALLY. He just has to come up with a plan. And get All Might to let him catch him by surprise.

That will not be happening, because the villain is having way too much fun.

Most of their "fights" end up being playful little spars and witty banter, where All Might takes the kid just seriously enough to make it look convincing on camera. Wouldn't want him to get fired and sent back, after all.

Relationship Headcanons:

All Might swears up and down he was joking at first. He was just pulling people's legs. He was just being teehee haha funny... But the fact remains that when he first asked the young barista out and took him to The Mighty Need Bar to parade him in front of the other villains... They got along really well. Too well.

Rian ended up getting a big crush on the nice older man with beautiful eyes and an oddly familiar way of speaking. It also helped that this man frequently left him $20 tips, and the young hero was too much of a gentleman to let that go without thanking him in some way... What harm could one date do?

The morning afterward when Rian and Toshinori both woke up slightly hungover in the older man's bed, with nothing but bed sheets covering them and no less than 3 used condoms in the vicinity, they both realized that sometimes a joke and an act of gratitude could both be taken a liiiiiittle too far.

But in for a penny in for a pounding, they started dating. Rian still didn't know the man's identity. Toshinori didn't plan on telling him.

But boy if those saucy rooftop confrontations didn't suddenly seem a little more flirtatious.

To the point where, more than once, the hero found himself pinned to a wall by very strong arms while All Might monologued to high heaven about shit like The Weather.

And...

Things took a turn one day when Rian was at the coffee shop the day after a """fight""', sporting a black eye that All Might very much did not give him.

"What happened, Kitten?!" "Nothing, I'm fine." "Don't give me that. Who did it?" "All Might." "Not that I don't think you're tough, but if one of that guy's punches had connected your head would have been blown clean off. Who. Did. It?" "Just... Just this guy that walks by sometimes when I'm on my way home. He saw me putting my wallet in my pocket. That's it." "I'm driving you home after work. You're grabbing some of your stuff, and then staying at my place for a while." "I... Are you sure?" "Very."

The dude was never seen again except on a Missing poster, and Rian's staying over went so well that they ended up moving in together... With Rian still not realizing who he was living and sleeping with.

Aaaand that's as far as this AU goes at the moment.

[chiclet-go-boom]

fracture: anticipate/maelstrom

You know, the hell with it. Here’s a couple of pieces of fanfic out of my Reylo rambles that deal specifically with the Knights of Ren, obviously written when we had nothing on the Knights at all for backstory or purpose. 

___________

They arrive within the same hour.

It’s nearly poetic, in a way. It might even be coincidence but he doubts it. Not that he thought any of them had actually arranged to follow each other in so closely, but the Knights are what they are as he is what he is and the closer they are to him and to each other, the more coincidence ties itself up into a frenzied knot of chance and inevitability.

Still, having them arrive nearly as one brings him a satisfaction so deep as to be almost sexual. A single boot on the flight deck, stepping off a lowered gangway and he can feel the shudder of it run through the ship. Ten minutes later, another. Five minutes after that, the third.

He breathes, flexing his hands helplessly, palms down as if to soak up the vibrations that only he can feel as the ship welcomes them home.

Hux is probably having an apoplectic fit on the bridge. The logistics of having such high value targets in proximity to each other with the not unreasonable fear that they might turn on each other and there’ll be a bloodbath, that they might instead wreak the havoc that only they are capable of throughout the ship, that Kylo might in fact be intending to bring them to the High Command itself and start a purge -- none of the possibilities can be sitting well with the man. The fact that he’s forbidden to interfere with them at all, that the Knights are completely out of his chain of command and operating under orders that he will never be permitted to see will be driving the red headed fanatic to his mental limits.

The knowledge brings Kylo a completely different kind of pleasure. He likes it, he’s long ago decided, when Hux is shoved out of his rigid, pragmatic blinders and has to come face to face with the fact that the universe does in fact operate under rules he can’t see, can’t touch and will never understand. The General is as force sensitive as a rock, perhaps even less aware than that, but having these particular assassins loose on his prize flag ship and out of his control will be shivering up his ramrod spine as if he was.

He half closes his eyes and listens as they walk through the corridors, disturbing everything in their wake. Fear from the troopers as they pass. The Force itself rippling like unseen water around them. Grid fluctuations, flickering lights, the disruptions of the mechanical systems under their feet because apparently none of them are interested in doing things by half measures this time. They want him to know.

The fourth touches down on the deck. The fifth starts their approach and Kylo shakes himself awake.

This is the part where he has no idea how things will be in the next hour. He might be dead. They might be. Maybe everybody ends up in the tender care of the medical droids and Hux finally gets what he longs for in the the dead of night when he shakes his whipcord frame awake from dreams he fears Kylo will overhear.

Still, hearing them all so close, feeling them all just heartbeats away now instead of separated by lightyears and Snoke’s endless caution brings back a rush of something he can’t really name. They were there. They were there at the beginning when he grabbed for who he was meant to be for the first time and brought his old life down in flame and ruin and death.

They’re the only ones that remember it like he does.

But it’s only when the sixth one lands and steps onto the flight deck that he puts his mask on and goes to meet them.

______________

He’s oddly relieved to see that Hux has actually made reasonable arrangements for this. Perhaps he is going to have to revise his operational opinion of his right hand fanatic.

His stride eats up distance. Kylo has always been restless, his height and focus lending him an impetus that is hard for other men to match, but even still he’s moving swiftly enough to frighten most of the trooper squads he passes. Some are able move out of his way in lockstep, turning heads in acknowledgement; some flatten themselves against the walls when they see him coming, forearms to chest in hasty salute. Once he turns a corner nearly on top of a squad and they simply scatter out of his way like a flock of panicked birds. Not exactly approved formation but safety first, he’s sure.

He follows the ephemeral pull, flexing his fingers. Realizes eventually, as the black floor disappears under his boots and he turns and turns and turns again, where he must be going. Of course they’ve chosen to meet him there. That might be the one place on this entire ship that could take the damage without compromising the structural integrity of the rest.

He keeps himself small in the Force. He'll need every advantage.

The closer he gets to target, the more troopers he sees. Eventually they stop even pretending they’re going anywhere in particular and are just parked at parade rest in ranks along the walls.

In the final corridor, there’s no more white; just the heavy black of the elite squads, Hux’s pride and joy. The weapons aren’t holstered anymore, gleaming dark and silver in jointed hands and he sees no few chain whips as well. His general might be outdoing himself for caution.

Or then again, maybe not.

Outside the door, Hux himself is actually waiting for him.

His fingers twitch with the urge to draw his saber now. He can feel them. The strength of their combined presence is irritant and pleasure and aversion, the bite of tiny jaws everywhere like insects. The skin between his shoulder blades is crawling with it.

“Supreme Leader. A word.”

He growls and his modulator flattens it into menace. “I’m a little busy, General Hux.”

“Warlord Ren. I’m sure you can spare me a moment.”

He could continue right through the man. He answers to no one anymore and he has a very urgent appointment waiting for him a bare hundred feet away now.

Yet the corridor is lined in black retaliation. There’s enough firepower here to cow a small city and there are hundreds more behind these in cascading ranks of fallback. And for all that reassurance Hux has chosen to be precisely here at what might become, some handful of minutes from now, ground zero. That has to mean something and he is trying not to be any more of a fool than he has to be.

He gives in to his agitation though and drops the saber hilt to his hand. He strides forward implacably, taking in the flicker of fear that the other man cannot help, the half step back that Hux takes before he stops himself.

He halts only when his right shoulder is hard against Hux’s. He can feel the rigid line of the other man’s body hot against his even through the padded armor. His saber presses against Hux’s thigh. Warning, maybe. Certainly a reminder. A word then if he wants one, but Hux was not apparently expecting one that could be whispered.

He half turns his head. “Yes?” he inquires gently.

“You make it impossible to deal with you,” the other man finally gets out between clenched teeth. It’s quiet enough, the words half caught against Ren’s black shoulder. Perhaps this really will just be between the two of them.

“Is that all?”

“No,” is the answer. “You haven’t given me orders on what to do if you don’t come out of there.”

“Do you need them?”

“I can craft a battle plan before I’ve finished breakfast,” is the snapped reply. “Is this enough? How long should I wait?”

It’s strange. Of all the things he’s anticipated, this is not one of them. This is nowhere close to any of them. He turns his head to stare down at Hux in surprise. The commander of the armies of the First Order looks back and his face seems much as always, the same haughty expression, the same unreasoning fire behind pale blue eyes.

And yet.  

“Loyalty?” he asks softly. "From you?"

“Self preservation.”

He smiles behind the mask. True. And that answer will serve as well as any other.

“Adding more will not help. I want you on the flight deck, ready to launch if necessary. Order your men to shoot anything that comes through this door.”

“Including you?” Hux is impassive, his expression austere for all that there’s something oddly tight under the words. He has no time to tease at it.

“I’d survive it,” he rumbles in ghost amusement.

Hux blinks, but turns his head away to look back over Ren’s shoulder at the soldiers waiting to enact what would be slaughter in any other circumstance. “You overestimate yourself.”

“No,” he replies, “in this case, General Hux, I do not. Remove yourself, be ready to contain this. Are we done?”

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” Hux steps away then, turning into a half bow, crisp and precise. “It shall be as you command.”

Kylo walks towards the door.

-------------------

They’re silent on the dais.

Of all that were, only these six remain. They stand in a rough circle on the highest platform, each with their weapon to hand. Waiting. He has to blink away memories both old and new because he’s been here before. Oh, he’s been here before and he keeps returning to it again and again.

This is where they were broken and made, much as he was. This is where they became his in truth or he became theirs because leashes can be held from both ends as everyone in his life has found out, often only at the moment that he wraps his fist around it. What is old is new again.

He strides down the walkway and his boots ring in the cavernous silence.

This is where they took on the black. This is where the rest refused to renounce the white, faced with the last step into the dark and he finished the slaughter he started at Skywalker’s temple. This is where they could have chosen to wear the red and they’d already be dead, cut down like dogs.

As if any of the Knights would consent to mere guard duty. If they had, perhaps Snoke would still be alive and he wouldn’t need to do this again.

“Kylo Ren.”

He stops where he always has at the foot of the dais, enjoying the twist of formality even now, looking up at them. They are as masked and armored as he is although his weapon is still quiet at his side. A few precious moments more where nothing has yet to change.

He really doesn’t want to die here, he discovers. There is still so much to do. Was this the right thing? Should he have left them where they were? Done as Snoke would have and pitted them against each other until they were weak enough to fall one at a time, his hands essentially clean?

“Master of Ren,” he corrects.

“Supreme Leader, I thought. Got that through the grapevine.” That comes from the far left, the slightest of the Knights. Always mouthy, always the first to push. Her mask is the closest to human, a black skull reflecting nothing. Her poleaxe rests on her shoulder, not yet engaged.

“None of you actually care who the Supreme Leader was or is. You care who I am.”

“And who are you?” From the center this time, the deeply cowled figure picking up the thread.

“Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren.”

He breathes. Tastes the air and the Force currents swirling like murky water, doubling back on themselves over and over like an ouroboros. The Knights are half tangled in each other and it’s hard to separate them. There’s no consensus yet that he can tell, no flicker of any one singular action. Perhaps this will go differently than he expects. Half his plans were contingent on the understanding that they'd be at his throat four seconds after he walked in the door — and yet here they are, still talking.

“Are you?” A third replies and the room shades darker, closer to that detonation. The vibro-baton spins in a circle, the reinforced head sullenly alight with channeled power. This one does want to fight. The red glow leaves a trail in the air. “I don’t think you can be both. It's probably a conflict of interest.”

“Did you want to pick yourselves a new leader then?” That’s a possibility he hadn’t considered. He spends a heartbeat on it.

“Would you let us?” A sweet tenor voice this time with a flicker of idle curiosity. One blaster is already in his grip but its pointed at nothing, the other holstered. Undecided. Unwilling to commit.

“No. You’re either mine or you’re dead.”

“You can’t take all of us, Kylo.”  The first one moves forward then, the first step towards action and the Force starts to converge on her. The weapon on her shoulder grounds itself on the slick floor although the killing edge still remains dark. “You were stupid to bring us all here like this, as much as it’s nice to not see your face again.”

He smiles at that. His own thought, now that he has them, a hot rush of something close to rightness. Assesses them with eyes that measure who they are, assesses their hunger. They’ve gotten stronger.

Then again, so has he.

“I recalled you,” he corrects. “I didn’t tell you when or how. Yet here you are, all of you, just like old times. Did you miss each other? Miss me perhaps?” He opens himself up a little more. They... did. All of them are pleased to see him in some manner. The youngest in fact is shivering on a high note of near welcome, so thin as to be a thread.

Something tangs discordantly in the Force, a string plucked out of tune.

“Enough of this,” snaps out the fifth, the tallest, the one with the heaviest blade. “I’m not here find out who’s missed who the most. There is no Master of Ren now. Release us.”

That... was wrong. That felt wrong. They were unsure, questioning, feeling him out. Now they are suddenly close to merge and the vibration behind it is sour and unbalanced. The fragile feeling of pleasure starts to dissipate into the gestalt.

“I will not." He pushes it back out, grounding himself.  "Submit to me again, and live.”

“No. You will release us or die.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” he tries, struggling to trace the source of it. He extends tendrils of compulsion, lacing his voice with harmonics. “Submit. Renew your faith in the dark, in me.”

It almost works. He feels the hesitation, the wish of all things to remain as they are, to stay together, to reaffirm the same promises. They have been his, after all, for as long as he has known himself to be what he is. They have yielded before. They will again.

The wrong note sounds again, a beat out of sync with itself. It breaks across everything like a spill of acid.

“No," the second and fourth say together, whiplash snarl from the right.

She takes one more step on the left and everything collapses into diamond. "The Supreme Leader is gone and we can take you.”

They snap together and the decision is made as every weapon powers up.

They have the high ground and they are six to his one. Force sensitive, armed according to their natures; as vicious as they wish to be, as savage as they were taught to be. They will move nearly as one, think as one, fight as one, a creature of many parts.

But none of them are him.

This was the only way it could ever go. He was a fool to hope for anything else.

He ignites his saber even as he throws himself wide to his birthright.

They are as one and they recoil in lockstep as the utter maelstrom of his spirit lashes out to smother the room in Darkness.

He surges up the stairs. They are off balance for only a splinter of time but it’s all he needs. The baton strikes a glancing blow off his shoulder as he dodges the lance aiming for his heart, so close the metal slides across his armor, scoring a silver line. He ducks to let the poleaxe whistle over his head, red edge a scream in his ear, thrusting out a hand to freeze the blaster bolts. Smashes the Knight who shot at him right to the wall.

Then he’s on the same ground they are and it starts.

It’s a nightmare blur after that.

They split and split again, melee and ranged and he has to guard against it all. His saber shrieks with rage, deflecting, punishing, correcting. The Force is a living weapon in his hands and he reaches harder and harder into it to make up the difference.

On and on and on, sliding black and red and furious through the shadows that spin and scatter away from him in this place. They are his, they will always be his. He will remind them who they are, who they belong to and his hand wraps around their collective leash and yanks.

At one point he realizes he’s dropped his saber entirely. It fights at his back, defending against the ragged chain fire as he batters his target with the scream of his will alone, one smash after the other, hands grasping. He feels their chest crush under the fathom pressure he's exerting, ribs snapping and they drop. He grabs for the next closest, a whip of power to wrench them into range, reaching up over his shoulder for the saber hilt to finish it.

He’s practiced this move so many times, the one handed spin that will sever a body in half.  

It’s his first, the woman who chose to wear a skull for reasons he can’t remember. She’s lost her poleaxe somewhere, has a blaster instead that she’s trying to bring to bear but she’s much too slow and she knows it and he knows it as he starts the terminus.

She manages to wrench herself out of the Force pull at the last possible second. He takes her arm off instead, slicing up into her shoulder and she screams.

He drops her. There are two lunging at his back, one high, one low.

There’s no time to turn, his saber howling for blood in his hands. Raises his foot and stomps, a concussive blast to shatter against the walls. They stagger, falling away and he whirls, shoving forward and goes for the kill on both.

Between one moment and the next, their combined will crumbles. He pulls up his strike just before completion. The heat of his saber so close to touching the cowl on his target that the fabric starts to curl with heat.

The standing fall to their knees like marionettes on a single string.

“We submit.” Six voices, one surrender.

Nothing moves.

He swallows his own blood over and over again, throat working. It’s hard to let go. He wants to hurt and hurt and hurt until there is nobody left to defy him.

His hand wavers with the urge to finish it, never to have to come here again. His saber extinguishes finally though and the loss of sound is terrible, ringing in his ears. Kylo straightens painfully, squeezing his hands in rhythm. Hurt. He will hurt them.

No, he won’t. They are his again. He doesn’t hurt what’s his.

As he stands there motionless he feels them fracture and fall apart, unique again, individual again. The fallen struggle to rise to their knees, to offer obeisance. Only the one that’s lost her arm stays down, clutching at her belly, whimpering on the ground.

Moment by moment, he pulls himself back from the edge, releases the blood lust. Only realizes then how much he’d affected reality as the shadows retreat back to the walls.

“Give yourselves to me,” he croaks out finally and extends his hand.

The mental walls drop and he swarms into their minds, clawing down to their very cores without care. It had gone wrong for a reason and he will know why.

He finds it in her. His first, her arm gone, her mind blackened around the edges with pain and frustrated, panicked deception. He snarls behind his mask, turning on his heel. His cloak swings out and he has her up in the air from ten feet away, ripping her mask off with a gesture.

“You.”

He sinks mental hooks into it and rips that out as well, shredding everything as he goes. She struggles, legs kicking. She’d scream but she can’t. There is only the muffled struggle for breath, for life, harsh and sobbing between her red teeth.

“You tried to take them from me because you couldn’t do it alone. They wanted to yield and you didn't. You tried to take them all so you could have them take me.”

“Kylo… please. Don’t. Have mercy. I yield. I yield!”

“Did you even have a plan for afterwards?”

The saber ignites in a rush of white hot fury and he lets it happen. The cauterized pieces drop to the floor a heartbeat later.

Once upon a time, Ben had shared breakfasts with her in a mess hall on a planet filled with water. Once upon a time, she’d been something close to a friend, somebody at least not a stranger. Somebody who’d believed.

He feels sick. Betrayed again and now they are only five.

[cammys-imagines24]

• U n c o v e r Y o u •

Title: Uncover You.

Connor x Reader.

Warning's: None.

Word Count: 2K+

Synopsis: You had always wondered what Connor looked like without his skin, and one night you finally gain up the courage to ask him about it. (Fluff, Insecure Connor)

••••••°••••••

You had always wondered what he looked like, I mean really looked like. Past the layer of liquid skin which bared such an uncanny likeness to that of a real human that you sometimes even forgot that it was indeed synthetic.

But, synthetic it was. It wasn't real. The outer layer was just a veil to conceal what was truly underneath; a machine.

Inside there were biocomponent's, circuits, Thirium, wires, processors, units, and metal. Inside, laid an Android. And, you had always been curious to see Connor for who he really was, not the appearance he cloaked himself in.

Even though you had been with the Negotiator for a long time now you had never seen him for who he truly was, and you wanted to. To you it felt like he was always evading showing himself, and you understood why.

Connor had always been one of the most advanced Prototypes to ever stem from CyberLife, and he was created to look the way he did. As a handsome, charming man. And, it was in his basic Programming to remain as human like as possible in order to build up trust in others, and formulate a harmonious environment.

He was built to look the part of a welcoming, benevolent, and affable male who could be anything he needed to be at any precise moment. From domineering and aggressive to friendly and trustworthy when the situation demanded it.

Like a chameleon shifting it's colors to suit it's habitat Connor was designed to be adaptable at any given moment. That was his speciality, but after he became a Deviant you were the first person who got to see him. Really see him for who he truly was, and it was a beautiful sight.

Watching a once indifferent, ever processing, never real Android become something more, and form a personality for himself was so nice to look at. Like a baby experiencing everything for the first time; that's how Connor acted for a while until he eventually grew into the being you fell in love with.

Watching him blossom, his opinions flourish, and his own individuality sprout up like flowers in Springtime was something spectacular, and you marveled in every new day that he expanded more, and more of his identity.

An identity he could actually claim for himself, and not just a built in module in his System.

Connor came to be a sympathetic man with a true heart of gold, and unyielding morals. Slightly awkward, socially inept, even humorous when it came to sassing Hank... He was sensitive, blunt, emotional, afraid of death, and undoubtedly loyal.

And, you loved him dearly... But, you still were curious as to what he truly looked like.

Though you had obviously seen what Androids looked like beneath their layer of synthetic skin; everyone nowadays had, you still wanted to see him.

You wanted to see the man you loved without him being shrouded in a facade that was manufactered to mimic humans. Because that's what it was; a facade. At least to you.

Androids were made to be a perfect carbon copy of humans as that was what was deemed most "appealing" to the public.

People thought that the porcelain white plastic bodies were too disturbing in an everyday scenario, and you hated that. That Androids couldn't just be themselves, how they were built, because it was too appalling apparently.

And, more than anything you didn't want Connor to feel like he had to cover up around you. More than anything you wanted him to be himself, and to see him for who he truly was.

So, that night you waited around in your shared apartment for him to come home. Which usually took a while since Detective work ran late, and most times Connor would wind up shuffling on inside once you were already fast asleep.

But, tonight was different. Tonight you were determined to uncover him.

So, as the evenings sky drifted in, the pale moonshine flooding into the windows of your living room, you stayed up seated on the couch.

Your body coccooned in a fleece blanket, a box of Chinese take-out near you; the bamboo chopsticks stuck into the remains of your Lo Mein.

You were flipping through the channels of your TV, the Detroit news sprawled out across the screen, and in the blue effulgence you cracked a smile, seeing some footage of a crime scene that Connor and Hank had been called out to investigate earlier.

The News Anchor was talking about the gruesome crime involving Red Ice, but you didn't concern yourself with her words. Instead you focused on the footage from the scene, the sight of Connor making your heartbeat flip even though it was just a previously aired recording.

You slunked down more into the cushions of your couch, and continued to impatiently wait around for your boyfriends arrival; Detroit's skyline prevalent in your line of sight as you stared longingly outside, silently wishing for him to be home soon.

As the hours of nightfall drew thin, the moon continuing to rise, your exhaustion was beginning to show itself as your head bobbed, and as your eyes began to slink shut on their own.

But, soon enough before your sleepiness could win out, you heard the door clicking open; the security code having been typed in.

There in the shadows of the entry was Connor, his Android jacket casting a blueish glow all around him.

As he himself never tired it was sometimes hard to believe, by human standards anyway, that he had just came from a gruelling 12 hour shift at the Station. He never looked the part of someone who had the unfortuante job of laboriously solving the incessant crimes that went on in the city of Detroit.

He looked the same as always, ever clean and composed. Not a single thread out of place in his uniform, his tie perfectly straight. The only quirk being the little tuft of brunette hair that fell over his forehead. An individual feature that you happened to enjoy.

With ease the Negotiator made his way over to you, his own face now brightly-lit from the TV screen.

"You shouldn't stay awake for me." He spoke, his smooth voice laced with concern. Your well-being his top priority.

"I know, but I wanted to." You answered, repositioning yourself on the couch in order to swipe the last egg roll.

"You shouldn't eat that." You heard Connor lecture as he took a seat beside you, and you could plainly see his LED blinking. He was calculating the amount of calories, cholesterol, and saturated fats that were inside of it. All the facts he had at his constant disposal sometimes like rain on your parade.

"Please, no details," You halted, raising up your hand in protest. "If you could eat you would understand why people take risks in order to eat truly delicious food."

Connor did as you wished, and fell silent. He meant well, but he knew that he didn't have the right to tell you how to live. He merely wanted you to be healthy, and happy.

So, he just took to settling back into the cozy cushions of the couch while you curled up beside him. Your body snuggling against his as you munched on your last egg roll.

After a lull of calm where you just watched TV like usual, and he made a report to CyberLife it then came time to go to bed. (Well, for you to go to bed anyway)

So, while in the bathroom brushing your teeth you thought about your desire yet again. The distant thought nagging at your brain, and had been for the past few hours.

You were gonna do it, you were going to ask him.

Stepping out into the bedroom you saw Connor waiting for you, his coffee hued eyes so sincere, and you worried that what you were about to ask would make him upset.

But, curiosity killed the cat, they say.

"Connor?"

"Yes?"

"Is it alright if I ask you something personal?"

"Sure, if you'd like." He replied, unaware of the bomb you felt you were about to drop.

"Is it alright if I... See you without your skin?"

To be honest your query had surprised the Android. As that part of him was something he wanted to keep hidden from you.

Connor never wanted you to see him as a machine, as a model that could be mass produced. Forever he could be rebooted into another form, and another, and another... There had been so many Connor's before he met you, and that is why ever since you stepped into his life he had grown to actually be afraid of dying.

Never again did he want to die and come back, never again did he want to be rebooted into another Connor model because to him, it was so different now...

He wanted to keep the form that he first met you in, the one you had touched, and kissed... The body he felt belonged to you, and that is why he wanted to seem as human as possible.

If he revealed himself to you as you wanted would you then start seeing him as simply RK800, and no longer your boyfriend?

Would his body then no longer be like a human males, and instead be like a mannequin to you?

You could see the hesitancy blaze across Connor's expression as his brows knit together. He looked so doubtful, and in a way insecure? You hadn't seen that side of him before, but you knew immediately that it was like looking at a sad puppy.

"I know it's alot to ask, and I won't force you to if you're too uncomfortable to do it," You began to reassure. "It's just that you've seen me when i've been at my most vulnerable. Without makeup, severely sick, having a bad day..."

"I don't want you to think of me as a machine." Connor disclosed, looking so unsure, and you merely smiled.

"I could never think of you as a machine, Connor. To me you'll always be the man I fell in love with." You assured, your words honeyed, dripping with sincerity.

With that Connor's expression softened as you strolled over.

You took his black tie in your hands, and carefully loosened it. Letting the strand of silky fabric cascade to the floor before you continued.

You unbuttoned his crisp white shirt, your eyes interlocked with his all the while, and he let you slip off his Android jacket.

Once fully unclothed Connor brought his fingers up to his LED, and gently tapped the blinking yellow indicator, allowing for his liquid skin to be stripped away.

His humanness peeled off slowly, revealing the pristine white underneath, and you watched as even his synthetic brown hair vanished. The one remaining thing his deep mocha hued eyes, the eyes you fell in love with.

You weren't frightened in the least, instead in awe. He looked beautiful, and his eyes retained the same liveliness to them.

He was now bathed in pure white, the color of snow. His form basic, and plastic. Completely bare to you.

His face was outlined by a few sections of gray, and you could see his Serial Number printed above his brow bone.

Gently with the tips of your fingers you traced over the number, his number "313 248 317- 51" and then you kissed the spot where his Model was stamped.

Your lips pressing sweetly against the "RK800"

You could feel his Thirium pump beating rapidly, and it made your mouth tug upwards into a grin. To you, it was his heartbeat, and you could tell that he was nervous.

"You know being vulnerable is one of the most human things you can feel, Connor." You told him, noticing that he was fixated on you. Analyzing the intimacy that was occuring between you two, and how you were being so affectionate with him.

Connor had probably never showed any other human his entire Android form before, and you were grateful to be the first.

"Aren't you scared?" You heard Connor utter, his LED blinking a warning shade of red for a split second, and you knew why.

He was feeling afraid, the fear of you seeing him differently washing over him, invading his Processors.

"Of course not." You spoke up, your hands timidly roaming over his smooth plastic chest, your gaze locking with his once more.

In the pallid gleam of moonlight you continued to touch him, your fingers ghosting over each piece of his Android frame.

"You are alive, Connor, and this form of yours won't ever change that." You consoled, and you saw the outline of his white lips etch into a smile before he let himself touch you back.

His porcelain hand caressing your cheek, his other finding it's way to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

"Thank you for letting me see you." You said before you were pulled into a tender, passionate kiss.

His outer human skin reappearing, along with his locks of brown hair which you were quick to run your fingers through again.

To Connor that was what he loved most about you.

Your acceptance...

That even in his Android form, all plastic and bare, you saw him as himself. Nothing more, nothing less.

To you he wasn't the Negotiator, the Android sent by CyberLife, a machine designed to accomplish a mission...

In your eyes nothing could deteriorate him from being anything other than the man you loved... A living being that loved you back, more than you could even know.