weaponsdirector

[weaponsdirector]

// spent all night avoiding tumbly bc of mandalorian and now i’m too hype to sleep hhhh

[weaponsdirector]

// do you ever just think about that interview with ben mendelsohn where he said that krennic’s favourite genre of music is “dial up” because boy I sure do

[weaponsdirector]

Send 💬 + a rumor and my muse will react to it.

[weaponsdirector]

krennic in D2 uwu

Send me a number and character and I’ll draw them!

[weaponsdirector]

You're a thot?

“Learning new slang, are we? Next you’re going to tell me you like k-pop.”

He doesn’t answer, it’s a matter of opinion anyway.

[weaponsdirector]

So, what you're saying, Director is that you have a thing for that holonet reporter? no judgment sir she is drop dead gorgeous after all. but like won't tarkin be jealous? or use her to undermine your career progress?

“Won’t Tarkin be jealous..? I can’t imagine he would be. Our relationship is barely civil, I wouldn’t dream of thinking he might care who I am seen with. I understand he has plenty of irons in the fire, if you will. And likewise.. Deena and I aren’t exactly an item, not in any official capacity. We have a good time together, and I am confident that if she wanted more, she wouldn’t be afraid to say so.” 

As for him-- he wouldn’t mind more himself. Nor would he mind seeing what the Governor looks like when he is jealous. He is pretty easygoing, so far as this kind of thing goes, and he is simply having a good time.

[weaponsdirector]

// seriously though if you’re not following @holonetnews what are you even doing with your life

[weaponsdirector]

TARKIN HITS KRENNIC WITH WALKING STICK FOR IMPETULANT COMMENT 

feat @admiraltarkin & @weaponsdirector

[weaponsdirector]

// when it gets too cursed on your other blog so u pop over here to ruin things

[weaponsdirector]

@admiraltarkin​

[weaponsdirector]

He clenches his fists, the leather of his gloves creaking in his grip, further irritated by the sound. As if it will somehow alert the Grand Moff to the intensity of his frustration at the man’s presence here, as if he should care what Tarkin’s opinion of him is. It’s not relevant, it has no bearing on him. The Emperor is pleased with his efforts, and that’s what matters. At this juncture, it is far too late for Tarkin to stop his trajectory to the top. 

“The project continues along the timeline I have provided,” he says, without waiting for the man to turn to look at him, glaring at his attache to dismiss them. The trooper escort had been a carefully chosen move, and Tarkin had evaded it by sheer lack of attention. He steps into the room, not bothering to wait for a response. “My men meet their benchmarks efficiently, and on schedule. If you have further curiosity about our progress, you might consult the timeline I copied you on.” 

Finally, he’s silent. He hates the silence, it feels like there is more he is owed to say. As if there are more excuses to make. But he refuses to make excuses, especially here. He knows he is out of his depth, he can see the expanse between them. And not just the length of floor, although he has stepped no further than a meter into the room. He is not cut from the same cloth as Tarkin, it reads in their voices, their posture-- and their stations. He will always struggle, he will always have to fight for what he has. And it tears at him, leaves him with clenched fists and a muscle throbbing in his jaw. 

“Construction of housing is nearly complete, we should be capable of full pressurization before the end of the week. We are conducting final safety tests, before we can begin to populate the weapons station.” He feels like a dog. “If you wish to tour the station, that will be your moment. And you may tell the Emperor as much.” As if he hadn’t already. 

Tarkin stares out a large window in one of the corridors of the Executrix, his eyes locked on the large mechanitation that would soon be the most feared thing in the galaxy next to the Empire itself. It took years of design and even longer for building, with the Emperor overseeing every detail of the battle station’s construction. It wasn’t something had Tarkin been in charge that he would have personally came up with, but he was not in a position to criticize the Emperor, no matter how different he may have felt. 

He wasn’t entirely daft.

Though in all fairness the project couldn’t have been completed or even thought of without the help of both Erso as well as Krennic, with the latter proving to be quite the pain to deal with.

Although as if on cue the Grand Moff hears rapid footfalls coming down the once quiet corridor and the ever noticeable swishing of a cape that followed mere seconds later, quickly announcing said Director’s presence long before he hears the man’s voice.

“Ah Director,” Tarkin starts as he doesn’t move, gaze still fixed on the Death Star, “To what do I owe the… pleasure? I do hope it is good news for once, if only so that I may inform the Emperor we are making progress on his dearest project.”

@weaponsdirector​

[weaponsdirector]

biting is a love language. no i will not elaborate.

[weaponsdirector]

opxngravxs​:

Wilhuff did not know whether to laugh or be flattered. He snorted and picked up his now filled glass. He regarded it for a moment, swirling the liquid around in the glass, before taking a small sip.

Quirking a grey brow, he licked his lips, leaving a smirk behind. “Interesting?” The Grand Moff rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. “What about me do you find interesting?”

He watched the Moff for a moment, chewing his lip, mulling it all over. He seemed not to have offended him, at least. If anything, he seemed to have made the right steps. “Of course I find you interesting,” he went on, taking a sip from his own glass. He leaned back in his own seat, mirroring the governor’s relaxed pose, although he felt no such thing.

“I’ve heard the rumours,” he said, with a shrug. “Can you blame me for wanting to know if they’re true?” His eyes drifted a little lower, only making it to the man’s mouth before he caught them. He’d heard he was vicious, that he was a brutal fighter. Not only with his with-- but with his hands. He had heard-- well, he wondered how much of the man’s mystery had been intentionally crafted, and how much of it was sheer rumour. And-- of course, if any of it was true. 

[weaponsdirector]

Your gift: A brand new cape.

It’s a thoughtful gift. He’s been wearing the capelet as a part of his ensemble for a matter of years, now. Mainly to set him apart from the ISB, given their similarity in uniforms-- but also because he wants to set himself apart in general. He had heard how the Governor was responsible for the modern officer uniforms, and receiving this from him felt.. canonizing, in a way. “Thank you,” he murmurs, holding the cape aloft, marveling in how long it was-- how full. It’s perfect. It’s just what he needs.

[weaponsdirector]

“Monster? That’s a point of view, is it not?”

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[weaponsdirector]

The fact that they didn’t end up physically fighting each other during Rogue One is a miracle. Also yes, Tarkin, you are that bad.

[weaponsdirector]

@pryde-before-the-fall​ liked for a starter

“Come in,” he beckoned the younger officer into the room with a pair of fingers, not yet getting up from his desk. “You’re right on time. I wanted to talk to you about the integration of support staff into the housing units.” He stood for a moment, to gesture to the seat in front of his desk. “Have a seat,” he said quickly, as if in rush. Not because he wanted to get the meeting over with, but because he was excited, genuinely excited. “With the completion of the weapons station nearing, it’s time to begin arming it, as it were. I understand this will be one of your first deployments.”

He sat back in his chair, a little bit more relaxed, now that things are going. Genuinely excited to be so close to finishing the project he believes will bring an end to the war-- and forever cement his place in the Empire. 

“I’ve taken close personal interest in every element of this project. And likewise, I’ve taken interest in your career.” He licked his lips, finding the right way to word this. “I think you could go far, working under me. What I mean by that is,” he reached across the desk to offer a hand to shake. “I’d like to welcome you aboard,” he doesn’t say the name. He’s overly fond of it. He had planned.. differently. “I hope I can rely on you to help me bring this project to its full potential.”