memorizingyouradress



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  1. Public Bookmark 22

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    All ships had a voice, Lotara knew. They sang in the void.

    The Conqueror’s whisper was the soft hum of its superstructure in a gravitational field. She had heard it roar in fury, groan in agony. When the real-space engines ran smoothly, it purred.

    She liked to know her ship as intimately as she knew herself. Whenever her duties to the Legion and Imperium permitted, she would run its corridors like she ran her hands over her body in the shower, feeling the contours of muscles and bones, the marks of old fights. Step by step, she learned the Conqueror’s tapestry of scars, the burns and craters adorning its battle-worn hull like the red twists of a triumph rope.

    Khârn teased her about it when he saw her in workout slacks. “I thought no one runs from the Conqueror,” he’d say, mouth curling up in a crooked grin to show the dull glint of iron teeth.

    “I’m not running from it,” she’d tell him curtly, tying her long hair back in a ponytail.

    Not running from it, no. But, lately, from something in it, if she was honest with herself.

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    12 Feb 2025

  2. Public Bookmark 12

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    There was little in Doflamingo’s life that he did not have a hand on. Be it his country, his family, or his business: he was in control. That single power any worthwhile human would die for to possess—and they have. Many, in fact, and several by Doflamingo’s own hand.

    For his control—his power—is something he was never willing to forfeit again. 

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    27 Apr 2024