#nothing on this galaxy is surface level

[theofficialuriel]

js realized I went off on tags instead of here 😞

"it's not that deep" it's never that fucking deep according to some of you. books? not that deep just enemies to lovers. films? not that deep just fun colors on screen. music? not that deep just ai generated lyrics. art? not that deep i could do that. and what if i want it to be deep for fucking once? what if i'm not content with surface level? are criticism and opinions and concerns to be dismissed in their entirety because you are happy floating on the surface never once wondering what's actually underneath? it's just a fun little thing it's not supposed to have big themes or ask the big questions well good for you but i'm asking

[loveesiren]

𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝙲𝚛𝚢

Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon) x Reader

a/n: hehehe I was thinking about this time I had sex on acid and I needed to write something. First Jiyong fic so I hope you like! also, disclaimer: in no way shape or form am I trying to convey that GD is like this or uses any sort of drugs. This is purely fiction. Also, if you use any sort of drugs, please be smart and safe. Not all trips are like this so please don't go out trying get this experience 😭

synopsis: Y/n and Ji-yong had been best friends for years but their relationship reaches a new level when they get the chance to try something new.

warnings: drug use (LSD), tripping, smut, fluff, sex under the influence

wc: 3k

“Have you ever done it before?” you asked, holding up the small baggie between your fingers. Inside, two tiny, rainbow-dipped squares of paper rested delicately against the plastic, shimmering under the dim glow of the living room light.

Jiyong glanced down at them, his dark eyes reflecting curiosity and just a hint of hesitation. “No. Have you?”

You shook your head, lips curling slightly at the thought. “Dae gave them to me. On the house—said it was the coolest experience she’s ever had.” You tilted your head, studying Jiyong’s expression. “She said it makes everything… I don’t know, awesome.”

Jiyong sat cross-legged beside you on the couch, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared at the tabs. “I’m down if you’re down,” he finally said, his voice lighter, reassuring. He was your best friend, after all. If anyone made you feel safe trying something new, it was him. “I still have a few days off. It won’t last that long, right?”

“Dae said about twelve hours,” you reassured him. “Give or take.”

He hummed, eyes flicking up to yours before a slow grin stretched across his face. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Your stomach fluttered with nervous excitement as you tore open the bag, handing him one of the delicate squares before pressing your own onto your tongue. It tasted like nothing, dissolving slightly as it settled in your mouth.

“She said to let it sit for a while,” you murmured, pressing it between your gums as Jiyong followed suit. A few seconds of silence passed. “What should we do while we wait?” you asked, shifting your weight on the couch.

Jiyong shrugged, scrolling through the seemingly endless options on the TV. “Wanna watch a movie?”

You nodded, curling into the couch cushions as he finally settled on Alice in Wonderland. “If we’re gonna trip, might as well watch something trippy.”

You chuckled. “Good choice.”

As the film began, the room grew darker, the screen’s colorful animations painting both of your faces in a kaleidoscope of hues. Time felt like a strange, stretchy concept—minutes turning into moments, moments into lifetimes. The warmth of Jiyong’s body beside you felt grounding, yet the anticipation of what was to come kept you buzzing beneath your skin.

Then, about an hour in, it hit.

Your head lolled against Jiyong’s shoulder, jaw slack as the screen in front of you twisted and twirled, every color dripping down into the next. The walls breathed in tandem with your heartbeat, the air itself shimmering like static. You blinked slowly, watching as the ceiling seemed to ripple like the surface of a pond.

“Hey, Ji…” Your voice came out in a whisper, reverberating in your own ears like an echo in an endless canyon. “D-do you feel anything?”

Jiyong exhaled, long and slow, before answering. “I feel�� something.” His voice wasn’t just sound—it was silk, a melody that wrapped itself around your skin like a warm ribbon.

You shivered, mesmerized. “Say something again.”

“Something?” he teased, turning his head to look at you, but the way his voice moved—like liquid honey pouring into your brain—made you gasp.

Your gaze locked onto his, and you swore his pupils had swallowed the entire galaxy. “Whoa, your pupils are huge,” he murmured, amusement flickering in his smile.

“So are yours.” You reached a hand out to touch his face, but as your fingers moved through the air, they left behind colorful, trailing echoes—shimmering ribbons of pink, blue, and gold that lingered for seconds before fading. “Oh my god,” you giggled, stretching your fingers again just to watch the colors dance.

Jiyong laughed, his voice vibrating through you like the strumming of a bass guitar. “You have, like… a pink aura,” he said, eyes fixed on you. “Like strawberries.”

Your lips curled into a grin as you stared at his neon-green hair, the strands pulsing and swaying as if they had a life of their own. “Your hair is moving.”

His eyes widened, and he ran his fingers through the strands. “No way.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “It’s alive. I think it’s trying to tell me secrets.”

Jiyong burst out laughing, throwing his head back against the couch. The motion sent a ripple through the air like a soundwave, and you giggled in response, feeling the vibrations of his laughter deep in your chest.

“I think we’re tripping,” you finally admitted, voice laced with wonder.

Jiyong sighed, a dazed, blissed-out grin on his face as he stared up at the ceiling, where the paint swirled in hypnotic patterns.

“Cool,” he breathed, utterly amazed.

Everything felt limitless. The walls of the penthouse no longer confined you; they simply melted into the fabric of your existence, expanding outward into the endless night. A sudden, undeniable urge pulled at you—you needed to see the city, to feel its pulse beneath your skin.

Slowly, you forced yourself up from the couch. The warmth of where you had been sitting clung to your skin, and for a fleeting moment, leaving it felt like stepping away from a cocoon of safety. A shiver ran through your body, but the sensation was electric, exhilarating rather than chilling. Your bare toes sank into the plush shag rug of Jiyong’s living room, the fibers so impossibly soft that they sent tingles up your spine. It was like walking on a cloud, each step sinking into bliss.

You glanced down at yourself—just a tight tank top and black panties. When had you stripped down? The thought flickered through your mind like a shooting star—there and gone in an instant, unimportant in the grand scheme of this moment. The only thing that mattered was now.

A soft gasp left your lips as your gaze drifted toward the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. Seoul stretched before you, a sea of twinkling lights dancing like a mirage in the distance. The sight was breathtaking, the city pulsating with life, its energy calling to you like a lover’s whisper.

“Wow…” The word barely escaped your lips as your feet carried you toward the balcony.

Behind you, Jiyong’s fingers skimmed over his phone screen as he added songs to the queue, and the soft hum of bass-heavy dubstep filled the room. The vibrations seeped into your bones, thrumming in sync with your heartbeat. The sound wrapped around you like silk, and without thinking, you let yourself sway to the rhythm, your long hair cascading down your back like liquid gold.

You had no idea that Jiyong was watching you.

From his place on the couch, he was entranced. The way the city lights framed your silhouette against the dark sky made you look ethereal, almost unreal. Your body moved with the music, effortless, hypnotic—like a dream unfolding before him. His cigarette burned between his fingers, forgotten as he watched you sway in the cool night air.

You lingered outside, though time had become meaningless. What felt like moments stretched into eternity, and when you finally drifted back inside, leaving the wide balcony doors open to let the night breeze in, the clock on the wall read 2 a.m.

The music had deepened, the bass vibrating through the walls. You couldn’t stop yourself from moving, couldn’t help the way your hips followed the rhythm as you floated across the room.

Jiyong was still watching you.

You caught his gaze—hooded eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing that existed in the universe. He sat sprawled out on the couch, legs spread lazily, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His black silk shirt was unbuttoned, exposing the intricate tattoos scrawled across his body. The dim city lights made his neon-green hair look like it was glowing.

“Ji, come dance with me…” You giggled, your voice carrying like the melody of the song playing in the background.

He smirked, the sight sending heat straight through your veins. With a final drag, he stubbed out his cigarette and rose to his feet, stretching his arms above his head before making his way toward you.

Jiyong took your hand, fingers lacing with yours as he twirled you effortlessly. “This is so cool,” he murmured, voice a velvety hum in your ear. His head rested against your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as his hands found your hips and pulled you flush against him.

The sensation was intoxicating. His touch, his scent, the warmth of his body pressing into yours—it sent shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“Love you, Ji…” The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, but they felt so natural, so right.

He lifted his head, strands of electric green falling into his eyes as he looked at you—really looked at you. “I love you, Y/n…”

Your breath hitched.

Something shifted.

This wasn’t just Kwon Ji-Yong—your best friend, your partner-in-crime.

This was your soulmate. The one you had loved for so long, but had never found the courage to say it out loud. But now, here, in this euphoric haze, the connection between you burned so brightly, so intensely, that you needed him. Not just his presence. All of him.

And he knew.

You didn’t need words. The way your eyes locked, the way your lips parted slightly, the way his hands gripped your waist just a little tighter—everything was understood in that instant.

Jiyong leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, and the moment they connected, fireworks erupted inside you. The world around you dissolved, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on yours, his tongue moving in perfect sync with yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer, and he groaned against your lips, deep and desperate.

Your knees gave out, but he was there—always there—catching you, holding you steady. His lips never left yours, only breaking away briefly to whisper against your mouth, “Can I take you to bed?”

The words sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

“Please,” you breathed, voice laced with need.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. He took your hand, guiding you toward his bedroom.

The king-sized bed was draped in silk and velvet, rich shades of crimson and black casting the perfect contrast against the moonlight spilling through the windows. The scene was beautiful—a reflection of the moment itself, dark and intimate, heated yet soft.

Jiyong turned to you, his fingers tilting your chin up before pulling you into another kiss—deeper this time, more possessive. As he walked you both toward the bed, his silk shirt slipped from his shoulders, pooling on the floor. His tattoos stood in sharp relief against his golden skin, and for a moment, you could only stare—dazed, overwhelmed, hungry.

The second your back met the sheets, you were in heaven. The fabric was cool against your flushed skin, sending a shiver up your spine, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of Jiyong’s body hovering over you. His lips were everywhere—trailing over your face, your jaw, the column of your throat. They whispered over your collarbones, traced the curve of your shoulders, dipped lower to explore every inch of you he could find. His kisses were slow, reverent, as if he were worshiping you with each press of his lips.

“Mmm… Ji…” His name spilled from your lips in a soft, breathy whisper, a sound that sent a jolt of pleasure through his veins.

Jiyong grinned against your skin, his mouth just above yours, teasing. “Say my name again.”

You barely hesitated, your fingers tangling in his hair as you murmured, “Jiyong…”

A soft groan rumbled from his chest. The sound alone made your body ache for him. He rested his forehead against your sternum, letting himself linger there for a moment, savoring the way your heartbeat raced beneath his lips. Then, slowly, he hooked his index finger under the fabric of your panties, tugging lightly.

“This okay, baby?” His voice was hushed, thick with longing.

That one simple word��baby—sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, warmth blooming deep inside you.

“Yes,” you breathed, arching into his touch. “Keep going…”

He smirked, pleased by your desperation, and helped you out of your shirt, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he discarded the fabric. He took his time, trailing kisses downward, each touch of his lips sparking tiny electric shocks that ignited beneath your skin. His mouth traced a slow, tantalizing path from your collarbone to the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, lower still.

Your breath hitched when he hooked his fingers into your panties and dragged them down your legs, his touch featherlight as his fingers brushed your thighs. The cool air sent goosebumps across your bare skin, but it was nothing compared to the fire smoldering in Jiyong’s gaze as he took you in, drinking in every inch of you like you were something sacred.

He placed soft, wet kisses along the inside of your thighs, taking his time, savoring your taste on his lips. The teasing was agonizing. Each press of his mouth sent waves of anticipation pooling between your legs, leaving you squirming beneath him.

Your own hands roamed over your body, desperate to do something, anything, to ease the ache. And then, finally—finally—his lips brushed over your clit, the first touch so delicate, so excruciatingly slow, that your whole body shuddered.

“Oh, god…” you whimpered, throwing your arms over your face as pleasure coursed through you like liquid fire.

Jiyong groaned in response, gripping your thighs tighter as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe over your dripping core. His tongue moved with purpose—soft, languid strokes at first, building into something more intense. He explored you like he had all the time in the world, savoring every moan, every breathless plea that fell from your lips.

Your body writhed beneath him as he worked you closer and closer to the edge, his tongue dipping inside you before sliding back up to that sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking, sucking, teasing in ways that made you tremble. The pleasure was overwhelming, your body tensing, ready to snap.

“Fuck, Ji… I’m gonna—” You gasped, hands clutching the silk sheets.

But just as your orgasm coiled in your stomach, he pulled away, leaving you breathless and aching, the loss so sudden it was nearly painful.

A whimper of protest left your lips, but Jiyong was already climbing back up your body, his lips ghosting over your skin, soothing you with each kiss. His hands fumbled with the zipper of his jeans as he kissed his way up your neck, over your cheek, finally capturing your lips in a heated, dizzying kiss.

“I want you,” he murmured between kisses, his voice husky, needy. “I want you to cum with me inside you.”

The words alone sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through your veins.

He finally rid himself of his pants, and in that moment, both of you were fully bare, bodies pressed together, skin to skin. The heat of him, the weight of him, the way his body fit against yours—it was intoxicating. Overwhelming. Perfect.

Jiyong cupped your cheek, searching your gaze. “Is this okay, baby? Can I make love to you?” His voice was breathless, almost nervous.

“God, yes,” you whined, pulling him down into another kiss.

He smiled against your lips, then slowly—so agonizingly slow—he pushed inside of you, inch by inch. The stretch was delicious, a perfect blend of pleasure and pressure, and your eyes fluttered shut as you adjusted to his size. A low, guttural groan escaped Jiyong’s throat, his forehead dropping to yours.

He opened his eyes, meeting your gaze. The sight of you—lips parted, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with pleasure—made his stomach tighten. But when he noticed the glassy shimmer in your eyes, his breath hitched.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, concern flickering across his face.

A soft, adoring smile graced your lips. “Yes… yes. I just—” You exhaled shakily. “I just love you.”

Jiyong’s heart clenched, and his expression softened into something breathtakingly tender. He pressed his lips to yours, slow and deep, before murmuring, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this…”

And then he moved.

His thrusts were slow, deliberate, filled with an aching kind of passion that sent pleasure rolling through your body in waves. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, gasping at the way he stretched you, filled you. The sensation was intoxicating—the friction, the heat, the way he fit inside you like he was made for you.

Your nails raked down his back, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging him closer, deeper. His pace quickened, his breath ragged as he lost himself in you, in the way your body responded to his every move.

He looked down at you, his eyes dark with awe. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your lips. “Oh God, Y/n… You’re so beautiful. So pretty you could make the stars cry…” he whispered.

His words pushed you over the edge.

“Fuck, Ji—I love you, I love you!” you cried, your whole body trembling as pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave. A single, warm tear slid down your cheek as your release shattered through you.

Jiyong groaned, burying his face in your neck as he followed, his body tensing before he spilled inside you, his fingers lacing with yours as he held onto you through it all.

The moment stretched, warm and golden, neither of you wanting to move, to break the connection. He didn’t pull out right away, simply resting against you, his head on your shoulder, his hand still gripping yours. You felt whole. Complete. “I love you…” he whispered.

When he finally slipped out of you, he rolled to the side, still holding you close, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. Both of you were a euphoric, breathless mess, your skin slick with sweat, hearts still hammering in unison.

Silence stretched between you, comfortable and warm.

Then, softly, Jiyong murmured, “Do you wanna take a shower? With me?” There was a slight nervousness in his voice, as if he wasn’t sure how to ask.

You smiled, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Yes.”

And as he pulled you into his arms, leading you toward the bathroom, you knew—this was only the beginning of something you’d been yearning for for years.

I don't have a taglist for GD yet so I'm just using my T.O.P/Thanos tag list. Let me know if you'd like to be added or removed! :)

Tags: @kaylieiskrazy04 @fr3akyyg1rll @heuningpie @sapph1r3x @moondooll @tranquilty @noharaaa @mariaxman @dear-satan @infinetlyforgotten @staryscorner @blu-brrys @come-as-you-are-111 @nicklet94 @vamplivivi @3mma-lovely

© loveesiren 2025 - do not copy, translate, transfer, or repost my work without my permission. if you find my work on sites other than through links i've provided, please notify me.

[jinmukangwrites]

I had a debate with my coworker about the Jedi not being crib robbers, regardless of the outcome of our argument, it has got me feeling ill about the parents who gave their children to the Jedi before or even during the Clone Wars. I'm watching Rebels and Kanan sounds so sad when he says he didn't know his parents. And then replaying Survivor, Cal has a conversation with Mosey about parents, and I remember that Cal is from Coruscant.

Like, imagine you're a parent. You probably live in the more poverty stricken levels of Coruscant. It's only a few years before the Clone Wars, but there's no way you could know that. All you know is that you have a baby in your arms, and there's Jedi in your home telling you that your baby is gifted, and that if you are willing, you can give your child up to a higher purpose. You'll probably never see your baby again, never see him grow, but... he'll grow up on the surface of Coruscant, in the Jedi Temple. He will not suffer poverty like you and your family, he will grow up to understand the mysteries of the Force and he'll become a peacekeeper of the galaxy and for whatever reason known only to you... it seems worth it.

You give your baby up.

And you wonder about him. Visiting the upper levels, you do the math in your head of how old he must be, and then you look out into the crowd made of trillions and wonder if you'll ever see a shock of red hair.

You never do, but that's fine. Your son is a Jedi, and maybe that's enough for you.

But then the Clone Wars come. And, not only do you see the Jedi join and lead their side of the war, but you begin to see the adult Jedi bring their young children with them on to the battle field.

Do you feel nothing? Do you feel anger? Acceptance? Do you think your baby is a hero? Do you go to the protests?

You watch the news, and perhaps you feel sick wondering if your baby will ever show up as a corpse.

But you never see him. And you're not sure if that's fine.

Years pass. The Jedi are branded traitors.

You hear about the masses of deaths, even the children are not spared from being branded as traitors and marked for execution from your new Emperor. Your baby is 12, or perhaps, was twelve. Perhaps 12 is the oldest he got, if he's lucky. That sticks with you.

You carry on.

Maybe you make a life for yourself within the Empire. Maybe you suppress the grief you must feel for the baby you gave to the Jedi all those years ago. Maybe you wallow in it. Maybe, on dark nights, surrounded by the never ending sounds of Coruscant, you think back to those simpler days, when there was no war, and you held your baby for the last time, and you think about what if. What if you held him tighter, and told the Jedi to leave. What if you worked harder to give him a better life yourself. What if you watched him grow, and he wasn't made a soldier, and he didn't die before he could become a teenager.

What if.

Years pass. You continue.

There's rumors of rebellion. You have your opinions on the Empire, on the rebels, some are deeply buried secrets, a bias you cannot escape, no one can know but that connection to the Jedi lingers.

Years pass. About a decade.

And you walk out one day, and you stop in your tracks, because you did not expect to see anything continue from your grief, the end of his story you told yourself.

A billboard shines in the darkness of the Coruscant lower levels, which isn't new, but this billboard stares at you.

A head full of red hair. Eyes that remind you of your partner. Scars scratch his features but his cheek bones remind you of your father.

Jedi terrorist.

About 22 years old.

Wanted by the Empire, and you don't know what to think but you know exactly what you're feeling.

And time moves on, and you're not in his life, but he's alive. Fighting against the Empire, while you continue to exist under the ruins of the Jedi Temple you gave him to, glancing up every once in a while, to see his face staring back in the light of wanted posters.

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Apparently @crimsonender critiquing and instantly improving Morch's uninspired chibi comics has put Lorch on the defensive.

Mikaila Orchard is at an early intermediate level when it comes to cartooning. Like something a teenager into anime would be drawing in high school art class. There's nothing wrong with learning how to draw later in life but seemingly Morch doesn't seek to improve. She seems to vaguely understand the surface level of style and construction but not how to actually implement these things. Morch desperately needs to go back to the fundamentals of drawing.

Morch on the left, Crim's improvement on the right.

Crim is a more advanced artist than her and I'm sure Crim wouldn't be insulted if I said I'm a yet even more advanced artist.

I bring this up because it sure is funny that Lily is complaining about basic art critiques...

When Lily is still going on about the one time she sent her racist friend @sneaky-taffer to try and "critique" my art who discovered I drew a hand backwards by accident in a single comic panel. Which is a mistake I used to make more often cause I'm an autist and sometimes have trouble with left and right.

...And then I... fixed it. Cause it was a legit mistake.

The rest of Taffer's "critiques" either were going after art that is over 5 years old or surrounded her not understanding stylization at all.

And then Taffer started sending messages from throwaways calling a friend of @britts-galaxy-brain's a "n-word lover" so you know there's that. She still hangs out in Lily's Discord by the way.

It's absolutely hysterical Lily thought sending her mediocre artist friend after me would hurt me when I routinely am critiqued by and critique other artists and none of us take it personally because we're all trying to help each other advance in our craft. But the second someone more experienced at art points out the ways your wife could improve hers? NO! It's perfect the way it is! They're just jealous!

IT'S HER STTTTYYYLLLLEEE-

Also the fact Lily is saying I wouldn't be reacting to her if I was good at art? Uh... I can do both. I do both every time I react to you in fact. People pay me to do art for them, Lily, I'm a professional. And then other people pay me to make fun of your dogshit opinions. 😂

[sevenrestdays]

Genuinely I'm so tired of seeing a massive lack of media literacy in the HSR Fandom, specifically when it comes to Dr. Veritas Ratio.

Like, somebody please explain to me why on earth people portray Ratio as an unfeeling, uncaring, brash asshole who can and will punt you because he simply felt like it.

Why do people act like we don't have multiple receipts of him being a kind and caring person who does have (logical) empathy, and who wants nothing more than to spread knowledge across the galaxy because that's his passion. Even if he goes about it in a way that might seem less than ideal.

There are numerous things that he HAS done in canon that directly oppose whatever 'ideals' fanon Ratio is written to have. It's like the man can never catch a break and is constantly being doomposted for literally no reason other than the fact certain Ratio haters™ took his words personally. (I mean that half jokingly, to be honest.)

I've also noticed a substantial amount of people who despise Ratio but absolutely adore Ruan Mei who, objectively, is a lot worse than Ratio. She just takes the time to sugarcoat her personality. (Was the whole drugging ordeal not just symbolism for a lie being wrapped up in sugar with a bow on top (e.g a sugar coated lie) or is that just me looking too deeply into it???)

*Not to say I don't like Ruan Mei or that she's a fully terrible person.

And yes of course he's going to think himself better than some people because he was raised in such a way that he'd been alienated from his peers since childhood because he was always told he was "better" and was pushed to be the absolute best. Does that justify certain behaviors? No. But people give him absolutely zero grace while going and woobifying other characters who have done bad things just because they had a bad past.

And these are all just surface level, shallow notes of his character, by the way. I can't do his entire character justice but people have done some in-depth character analysis on him that were most definitely worth the read.

In a way it's almost amusing (albeit sad) how this random purple haired man has sparked so much outrage simply by existing. But it's also exhausting because I don't want to open my socials and see 8 Ratio OOC and/or hate posts consecutively even if I try to avoid them.

[bird-in-the-space]

Cryptids or Unnatural Cybertronians

A headcanon of different groups of cryptids in Cybertron.

(Author's note: Kinda got carried away. Hope you enjoy)

Warnings: some mentions of eating things, these groups being scary and violent, mentions of deaths and rebirths.

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

Gardeners 

- Strange group of transformers, who live on the parts of Cybertron where organic life flourishes. 

- They are known to tend to the organic flora and fauna of Cybertron’s surface, making them more techno-organic compared to other cybertronians and cryptids. 

- They are smaller in size and their appearance tends to depend on which organic lifeforms they tend to more. Those who look after the flora tend to have plants growing around their limbs while those who look after the fauna would bear half-animalistic features. They are like Cybertron’s versions of faeries. Their metallic plating also tend to be more soft to the touch.

- Despite their sizes and organic features, they are capable of manipulating the organic flora to their will and communicating through the fauna. Nothing would get past them in the woods or organic areas.  

- They are less known than the other groups. They are more solitary and tend to avoid other cybertronians, only showing themselves if they threatened the organic wildlife. 

Depth Dwellers

- Cybertronians born inside the depths of Cybertron, near the core of the well of allspark. 

- Adapted to live in darkness, they are the caretakers of the core of Cybertron. 

- Like white cell, they neutralize all possible threats to the core by consuming them and they are rumored to be immune to the effects of dark energon. 

- They are physically built to move around the shifting levels and are unsettling fast. They were not easily seen as they take cover in darkness. However, when they are out in the light. They are tall, thin, and possess many limbs like insects. They possess several razor sharp teeth which makes them even more unsettling. Living in the depths of Cybertron also make their bodies incredibly cold to the touch.

- However, despite their unsettling appearances, Depth Dwellers pose no harm to the surface dwellers. It was discovered that they possess a culture of they own and that they are capable of tolerating light but simply choose not to come to the surface. They do pose harm to those who seek to inflict harm on Cybertron’s core. 

- They are capable of controlling the scraplets as they are slightly related, though, in some cases, Depth Dwellers have been seen to eat them. 

Starlight Seekers

- Cybertronians rumored to have been born from star drops. 

- They are more known than the other groups but are still seen as highly cryptid. Some believed they are seeker's highest form of evolution.

- They have their own advanced culture and a killer whale-like mentality. They are highly intelligent and adapted to flying through space without any need for space crafts.  They do not wander alone and travel in groups. 

- From their namesake, they feed on radiations from stars. This gives them energy and even additional fuel which allows them to survive long periods of time without energon. They are also capable of manipulating the radiation within their bodies to power their weapons and physical capabilities. They are even rumored to have the ability to jump into a type of hyperspace that would allow them quickly to travel from one part of the galaxy to another. 

- By physical description, they can grow taller than ordinary Cybertronians. Due to their unique sparks and radiations, the color in their frames varies depending on their environment and their usual frame color is black. In space, their colors are illuminated while standing on a planet they do not. They are also recognizable by their white and silver optics that shine like stars. 

- Starlight seekers tend to wander through space. However, they occasionally rejoin society on Cybertron, usually to catch up or raise new members of their family. 

- The ordinary cybertronian regards them with fear as they are powerful and dangerous when angered. Starlight seekers are usually open-minded but tend to bully those whose views they consider foolish or absurd. 

- They are dangerous when in groups. However, they are just as dangerous alone and no cybertronian who attacked them alone never lived to tell the tale. 

Fireborns 

- Mystical cybertronians with sparks born from the flames of Cybertron. They are believed to be descendants of the first Fireborn (Based on an old fic idea) and are fundamental parts of Cybertron’s natural heat sources. 

- Like phoenixes, upon death, their spark releases regenerating energy, reforming their bodies to adapt to the survival terms of their current environment. These forms can vary and even take a half organic forms. It was a type of rebirth as their soul would remain the same, but they would gain a new face and from that a new name. 

- Physical appearance debends on their regeration but common features that usually stayed was a sun-shaped mark and the colors of their eyes tend to chance based on their moods. 

- Fireborns are known to be warm and gentle minded beings. Most cybertronians would not even know that they were talking with a Fireborn as they could take a form that made them look like an ordinary cybertronian. 

- They are incredibly rare as there are not many of them. Their regeneration can also vary in effect when they are at the end of their life cycle. If the fireborn was dying in a dangerous situation, their regeneration can be destructive and burn everything near them. But if the fireborn was in a safe environment and ready to be reborn with a calm mind, the regeneration can have a healing effect on those near and the surroundings. 

- They are also known to bear gift of singing, possessing the most beautiful voices. 

- Fireborns are important to Cybertron’s natural heat sources because Fireborns are capable of reigniting them with their regeneration if necesary. This ensures Cybertron would not fall to an age of ice age and be drained from its energon sources in order for the cybertronians to have heat.

[starkpilot]

I’m super excited to be writing and working on my very first fic for the Star Wars fandom! It’s going to be a Codywan Tatooine AU of sorts. It’s been over a year since I’ve written literally anything, so I can’t help but be excited to share just a snippet of the fic. Please let me know what you think 🥰

-

It had been 365 days since Obi-Wan’s world seemed to come to a screeching halt.

A year since he felt the lights of too many Jedi blink out in the Force. Since Anakin fell. Since facing him on Mustafar, leaving his Padawan, his brother, behind.

365 days since hearing those two words from Cody’s cold, calculated voice.

Blast him!

He could still feel the fall, Boga’s screech merging with his own shout. The way Cody, had gone from a beacon of light in the Force to a dreadful, dark void. One by one his men had followed, blasters raised without hesitation.

It had haunted him for many nights when he first arrived on Tatooine, Luke clutched tightly to his chest.

The boy was the last fragile thread that had connected him to Anakin. In Luke’s face he could see the kind eyes of the boy he raised, paired with a smile that no doubt resembled Padme’s.

Sometimes when the loneliness grew too sharp in his chest, he’d close his eyes and reach out to him in the Force. Just to feel that brightness, unmarred from the weight of the galaxy around him. He never reached out for longer than a few minutes, and never tried to push past the surface level. If he dug deeper into the Force, nothing but the weight of loss and coldness met him, leaving him breathless and with moisture in his eyes that took the rest of the day to get rid of.

So instead, he spent most of his time on the arid planet surviving. He ate and drank enough to sustain himself, and endured the heat and silence alone. He occasionally spoke with Beru and Owen, though after those conversations he always felt drained of any remaining energy. For a year now, he had continued this routine.

And yet on the 366th day, the routine changed.

He had been meditating on a nearby large rock, when a tickle, a nudge almost, had run down his spine. He had felt his body tense on instinct, the feeling settling uncomfortably in his stomach. The Force hadn’t shown him danger exactly—not the kind that screamed— but instead gave him a sense of something familiar, something once-trusted.

He had opened his eyes and just on the edge of the horizon, he had seen what the Force had been trying to warn him of.

Cody.

[carionto]

What did they even do?

Realized I left some things unaddressed from this post I wrote and I want to explore some of those instead of retconning anything.

___________________________________________

When the Earth and Humanity vanished, we were all so stupefied that it took a little while to realize that their Moon was not only still there, but also orbiting around where the Earth should be. Same with every other celestial body that was even slightly affected by Earth's gravitation force.

No change. We checked and tested everything we could. There was no gravitational pull, EM field, radiation, nothing. We even flew ships right where it's core would've been. The planet was simply not there. And yet, all other bodies behaved as if it was. As if the universe refused to acknowledge that Humanity had done something so preposterous as taking themselves to another dimension.

Curiously, we noted, that everything roughly 400km above the planetary surface had also vanished alongside the planet. In the preceding decade the Humans had suddenly increased the number of energy gathering satellites sent to that orbital level. They had made impressive advances in energy transfer technology and we were hopeful this massive web was the beginning of their waning off of exhaustible and unsteady resources for their energy needs.

These satellites were in fact how they enveloped their whole planet and disappeared - planet, atmosphere, orbital stations - all matter, particles, waves - everything, within this sphere of light.

Another point of interest, after having understood this fact, is that they had not sent any vessels beyond that orbit twenty six cycles after we enabled the Responsibility Barrier. Roughly a single generation later and all of Humanity was seemingly in on the plan to "vanish".

The Moon and every Human vessel beyond the 400km orbit became the most hotly debated and thoroughly examined entities the moment word got around they were still orbiting as normal. Not a single subatomic particle was left unscanned or undocumented. In just a few cycles the millions of scientists from across the entire galaxy knew everything about every single one of them.

We learned nothing. Nothing about how or why they simply did not drift away. Nothing about any residual effects. There was simply nothing out of the ordinary. This area of research became the most contentious and even bloody field since the very first sapients went into space and found a civilization on another world, sparking debate of uplifting and interference.

As time went on and nothing continued to change, everyone eventually gave up. Whatever Humanity had discovered and done was something no other was able to conceive, let alone recreate. Still many tried, but, before the Humans returned, this branch of science was seen as nothing more than a waste of time, extra credit in some cases, only a handful of enthusiasts went to the system for anything more that sight-seeing.

It has only been a few of the Earth's months after their return, and they refuse to explain any details of how and what they did. The only thing the Humans would say is that they were alone in the truest sense of the word.

(where we went)

[sh3padeffecr]

Karma is Hilarious - Garrus x Shepard One-Shot

Hi! I’ve been back on my Shakarian bullshit and wrote a Garrus POV. Enjoy!

“Life tends to be humorous in the moments when nothing is funny.”

Life tends to be extra humorous in the moments when nothing is funny. Garrus Vakarian was learning that lesson on the lower-level floors of Afterlife with too much drink and too much regret.

The evening had started out normal enough. He’d finished staring numbly at the wall of his shitbox apartment on Omega and had decided to move his wallowing to a more lively location. That, and when the sun started to set he found it nearly impossible to be left alone with the roaring abyss of his thoughts. At least here there was lights and music and life and people of every species. The perfect place for someone with no where else to be.

So, he’d ordered a Denorian beer, or four, and had just settled into an empty corner booth in the dimmest part of bar, content to watch the world pass by in a neon colored blur. Around the fifth beer was when that pleasant warm buzzing overtook his senses and he was able to crowd watch with more enthusiasm.

Asari danced on nearly every surface, waving those blue or purple or similarly colored hips for all the patrons to enjoy. From the look of it, it was a quieter evening. Normally that wasn’t a good thing— he’d end up with a well-meaning asari looking for tips chattering before him and he’d end up having to decline her every attempt. Company wasn’t what he was looking for, but he couldn’t stand to be alone. So now his only real interactions were with the elcor who sold him his morning brew and the working women of Afterlife. It was on those nights when he was forced into uncomfortable conversation that he’d think of the supposed friends he hadn’t heard from in months.

It wasn’t like he’d done a good job of keeping up with them. Tali and Liara had tried harder than Wrex, who’d occasionally send him a one or two sentence message. Kaiden didn’t reach out at all, and for that he was glad. He couldn’t stomach seeing or hearing anything that came from him. No, that was too painful. Even just thinking of him made him finish the drink in his hand and flag down a waitress for another.

He supposed he couldn’t fault them for giving up when he didn’t respond. It had been enough time now, they had their own lives to get back to, whatever those lives were. Everyone seemed to be moving forward. Garrus was frozen in time, stuck right on the planet where he’d received the news.

Commander Mera Shepard, first human Spectre and hero of the galaxy, had been blown up in her beloved Normandy. Killed in action. Missing in action. No one ever found her body.

He had only left Omega once after he’d heard Mera was dead. And that was to attend her memorial on the Citadel. Where he…might have had a slight overreaction to hearing that Alenko had abandoned Shepard on the ship with Joker.

Of course he’d said she’d insisted he go without her, that he’d been devastated to leave her. But Garrus couldn’t help the rage he felt. Because he knew for a fact that he would have stayed and fought for her, even if it killed him. Being on an exploding ship was the closest a person could come to experiencing hell and the thought of her there, alone…it kept him up at night.

He’d always thought Kaiden a coward. He had an iron rod of rules and regulations shoved up his Alliance ass. He believed it even more now that the most tenacious, strange, unpredictable, and incredible woman in the entire galaxy was lost. In his mind, all because her so-called lover didn’t have the balls to stay with her when she needed him most.

The memory of that day was as dark as the corner he sat in. If he closed his eyes, he could still picture the bright Citadel lights shinning over a large projection of Shepard. Well-wishers left tokens in front of it, flowers, model ships. The smell of all those flowers…by the maker, he still couldn’t get rid of it.

Then there had been actually seeing the bastard.

“Of course she told you to go!” He’d roared. Somewhere beside him, Tali and Wrex were trying to restrain him, keep him from launching himself at the human. “But you don’t go! You should have stayed! You should have—“

“You don’t get to tell me I was wrong. I did all I could. If anyone knew the burden of making tough choices, it was Shep-“

“You don’t get to say what she knew,” Garrus snarled, finally escaping Wrex and Tali long enough to get right into Kaiden’s face, looming over him with grim satisfaction that the human had enough decency to look frightened. “Because she’s gone.”

“And you don’t get to play her protector now that she is!” Kaiden had snapped back at him, placing his hands on his chest plates and shoving. Garrus barely moved an inch, but he was rocked by his words.

“Your little crush on her doesn’t change the fact that she never looked at you the way you wanted! You can’t blame me for her choice, and you can’t blame me for her death. Get a fucking grip, Vakarian!”

The words still tore through him, as fresh and devastating as they had been all those months ago when Kaiden had said them. And the worst part was, the bastard was right.

He slammed the beer bottle to his mouth, gulping down the last of it. Again, he signaled a passing waitress who looked mildly concerned, but placed two more bottles on his table and scurried off.

Crush. Stupid human word. And it wasn’t even true.

Right?

He traced a talon along the lip of the bottle, watching as the twisting neon lights reflected off the glass.

He’d admired Shepard from the moment she’d invited him to join her on her galavant across the galaxy. It meant freedom. Freedom from C-Sec, from his father’s expectations, from the mind-numbing mundaneness that had chased him in his daily life on the Citadel. Not to mention the mounting resentment he felt about his work, like he wasn’t stopping the bad guys. Assholes who sauntered their way over innocent people and the law, committed terrible crimes, all to be protected by the red tape bureaucracy bullshit.

She’d been an escape. She’d been a leader, and then, in time, a friend.

He’d noticed that the other nonhumans of their motley crew had been stowed in the lower levels of the Normandy. Not a lot of humans opted to spend time around a Turian, a qurian, and a krogan. Though, Tali had taken to the engineering team with flying colors and Wrex had been content with his solitude. A lot of times, Garrus had been unsure of his place. A childish insecurity, but as the only one of his kind on a ship of humans, it was easy to feel out of place.

That was, until Mera started coming around.

It started easily enough. A debrief of a mission, some casual questions to get to know the crew. He’d appreciated the gesture and was eager to have someone to talk to. He’d remembered several times where he’d gone on his rants about C-Sec, remembering that he was talking to a commanding officer and hating himself for getting carried away, only to have her affirm his opinions. Never judging. Occasionally disagreeing or asking questions, but she always heard him out. It was..surprisingly comforting. To know he had a voice on a ship full of aliens.

Then it turned into longer conversations. He’d be tinkering with the Mako and she’d join him, surprisingly adapt at putting together machines.

“I used to do this kind of thing all the time as a kid,” she’d said one night as they worked. “My dad was a grade-A asshole, but the man could fix about anything.”

“Is the reason you got so good at fixing vehicles because you’re terrible at driving them?” The honest quip had left his mouth before his brain could sensor him and he froze. Shepard was a lot of things, but driving with her in the Mako a different kind of torture. From rolling down the sides of steep mountains, driving too fast and launching them over hills, to her muttering curses as she tried to keep the Mako from bouncing onto its side, he was one of the only crew member who offered to join her on planet exploration.

He waited. For her anger or her dismissal. Instead, she’d thrown her head back and laughed. It was the first time he’d seen it and he remembered the prickling sensation in the back of his neck as he’d watched her. She had laughed so hard tears had begun to gather in the corners of her eyes. Odd. Didn’t humans only do that when they were sad?

“You’re not wrong. There’s a reason I don’t fly the ships. You’re the only one of the crew to actually say something about it,” she grinned up at him. “I was wondering who would be the first. I’ve flipped that thing three or four times! You’d think someone would tell me to stop driving.” She laughed again, something softer, and he again felt that strange needling.

“No one wants to upset the Commander,” he’d said innocently with a shrug. “Maybe we were all hoping you’d get better the more you drove it.”

“Oh no. I’m hopeless. None of you were brave enough to volunteer to drive.”

“Consider this me volunteering. I think Liara is one more bump away from quitting the team.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” She smiled up at him. “All yours, Vakarain. Try not to crash.”

“Crashing would be better than flipping over three times.”

Shepard’s laughter echoed through the near silent cargo bay. From then on, he could always count on her swinging by when they had time between missions. He grew to look forward to longer commutes.

He was getting to the point where his vision was blurring. He had lost count of how many drinks he’d had that night. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew he was acting pathetic. Not even Kaiden was sulking around like this anymore. The bastard had instead thrown himself into noble purpose.

He didn’t know why he was still feeling this way.

Maybe it was because he had no where else to go? Though that wasn’t entirely true. He knew after his heroics on the Citadel he could return to C-Sec. Maybe get a nice promotion. He’d told Shepard he was going to apply to be a Spectre again after they defeated Saren but…after seeing how the Council and the rest of the Citadel just moved on? Gave her a day of honor and then kept going, after all she’d done and had yet to do? It sickened him. He couldn’t see himself working under that command.

He could go anywhere, do anything. But he just couldn’t get his body or his mind to obey. He was hurting. And he didn’t know why.

He still had another bottle before him. He could probably finish that and sink into blissful unconsciousness. He’d have to deal with a bouncer tossing him out on his ass later but at least for now he could stop thinking.

While he took a first swing, a group of Afterlife patrons and dancers came barreling noisily down into his little slice of misery. He let out a groan, which was quickly lost in the bass of the music as it was cranked several octaves louder.

If he wasn’t so drunk, he might have stood and walked out. But Garrus was locked in his booth, sunk into the cushions. If nothing else, he could probably get some kind of entertainment. Afterlife had all kinds of intrigue at this time of night.

The dancers were quick to snatch up attention, inviting club-goers to watch or join them. A majority of the group looked content to watch, but a few humans of the group stood to dance with them.

Strange creatures, humans. Too many fingers, such squishy and soft-looking bodies. Those manes of hair-

Garrus shattered the bottle he was holding. The noise was swallowed by the music and no one seemed to notice as he suddenly leaned over the table, bracing his forearms against the sticky top.

There was one human among the group with red hair. Short, cut right around her shoulders. She was wearing some kind of strappy, human dress with cream colored skin reflecting blues and violets from the bar lights. She was built like an athlete, someone strong.

It looked just like her. Shepard. Mera.

“Commander,” he said, his mouth warbling from all the drink. He tried to see more of her face, his heart racing. It looked just like her, maybe it was her. Maybe she was here and this had all been a mistake.

He propped himself up, finally willing his drunken body to move and he stumbled towards the dance floor. Towards her.

“Shepard,” his voice his voice sounded breathless. As he got further out onto the dance floor where the human was, she twisted her body in time with the music, giving Garrus a better look at her face and he froze.

All the alcohol in the world couldn’t stop him from seeing that it wasn’t her.

A spotlight overhead illuminated her out from under the multi-colored lights. And she was all wrong.

Her hair was a darker red, obviously dyed, with some sort of style that had her mane shorter over her forehead, whereas Mera’s had been parted in the middle. Instead of a dotting of freckles she was clear-faced. And he was just close enough to see that her eyes were more of a hazel than the blue-gold he knew by heart.

There was a split second where Garrus considered approaching her. Throwing on whatever charm he might have and inviting her to sit with him. Maybe…maybe she could take away the ache that had been lingering like an open wound since…

He couldn’t pretend this was her. Even if he desperately wanted to. Luckily for him, the human didn’t seem to notice him and he was able to retreat back to his booth with some sick feeling brewing that had nothing to do with the beer.

What the hell was he thinking? Going up to a stranger, trying to forget the real woman, the real friend that he’d known. It was disrespectful, it was unhealthy, and he had absolutely no idea what it meant.

What a state he was in. Maybe he did need to get a fucking grip.

“This is pathetic. What could a woman do to put you in this state?”

The words slammed him back in time to another bar on another world. One where he’d seen a respected general reduced to nothing more than a brooding teenager over a woman. At the time he’d been unable to fathom how anyone could have that sort of effect on someone of his stature, his discipline. He’d mocked the Turian. Little did he know that he’d be that damn Turian in some other bar, distraught and lost. Over a woman.

He swore under his breath and then barked out a horse laugh, startling some of the people loitering near his table. That single laugh turned into several moments of loud laughter, until his abdominal muscles ached and ended in a fit of coughing. Karma had to be real.

But what confused him more than anything was why he was in such a headspace. Shepard was a great leader, there was no denying that. He’d learned a hell of a lot when traveling with her. He enjoyed her company, easy enough.

It was Kaiden’s words that stuck a cord. His so-called crush on Mera. There..may have been one or two nights, maybe more, when he had been somewhat distracted by her. Or when he found himself laughing a little harder in her presence. Or seeking her out for advice. In such a short span of time, Shepard had had a profound impact on him. More than anyone he’d ever met in his life.

He regretted not telling her how much he valued her. He mourned that he was not on that damn ship when she needed him most. Most of all, he hated that he would never have the chance to understand what these feelings were that she ignited inside of him.

The ache was prominent, causing him to bend over the table and grind his mandibles together. Not that she’d want him when he was like this. Everyone else was moving forward with their lives, finding righteous purpose after her death. He’d told her he intended to become a Spectre, look how that had ended.

Shepard would want them all to live. Him included. There had been plenty of times she’d walked hand-in-hand with death in their travels. If she could face that every day and use her last breath to help others, the least he could do to honor her memory was not drink himself into the ground.

But what else could he do? The idea of returning to the Citadel made him sick. There had to be other ways that he could help people. Especially on a place like Omega.

His stomach rolled and he groaned aloud. Too much beer. A frequent occurrence with all the drinking he did. Knowing that he had maybe half an hour to stumble his way back to his apartment before he blacked out, he decided to get a move on.

Afterlife was starting to wind down. He didn’t realize how long he’d been down in his booth until the expansive empty bars greeted him as he climbed to the main floor. Damn. It had been a while since he’d actually closed the place down. Another not so subtle reminder that he was currently residing in rock bottom.

Eyes barely open, he managed to drag his heavy body towards the entrance, wanting to show himself out so the bouncers didn’t have to. Though, as one does when piss drunk, he stumbled into one of the glass railings and had to hold himself there, waiting for the spinning in his head to pass. Spirits, why did he do this again?

With the early morning chasing away the creatures of the night, Garrus thought he would have the luxury of dry heaving in peace. The only ones still around were the dancers gathering empties and he knew from experience that they would give him a wide berth.

“I know you took it!” The snarl slashed through the bass still pounding through his head, causing him to lift his head and try to narrow his gaze on whoever was raising hell after this place had slowed down.

Near the bar, a younger looking Asari stood cautiously, arms crossed over her glittering attire, looking indignant and, he could be very drunk, but nervous. Before her, a batarian hurled insults like knives at the girl’s head.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t been anywhere near you all night,” her voice carried a small amount of authority, but her body language said otherwise.

Garrus felt another wave of nausea and had to dip his head briefly, coughing to chase away the burn in his throat. When he eventually lifted his eyes again, the batarian had the girl by the back of her blue fringe, making her yelp in pain and try to scratch his hands off of her head.

Anger heated his body at the sight of the girl being man-handled. He knew a lot of Asari spent their younger decades dancing, perhaps this asshole was trying to take something this girl wasn’t selling.

“I swear, if you don’t give me back that comm port I’ll blow the back of your head off.” He snarled, dragging her closer while the girl struggled. “Do you have any idea what happens when you fuck with the Blue Suns?”

Again, Garrus was drunk, but he couldn’t help but wonder if that was a hint of fear he detected in the batarian’s tone. Whatever he’d lost that night, someone in his gang was going to be mad as hell. The girl didn’t answer him and continued to thrash, getting more and more agitated.

“I’m running out of patience!” His tone had gone breathless as he suddenly reached for a weapon hidden at his belt line.

Time slowed. Garrus didn’t think he could move fast enough to stop it, not at this state, but he managed to push himself off the wall he’d been clinging to and threw himself at the pair of them. He’d probably end up with a bullet in his side, but at least he’d be helping someone else.

That’s what Mera would want. She’d be proud.

The thought comforted him and he launched towards them. But it was only a matter of seconds later that he heard the sound of a gun. He waited for pain, maybe he’d be so fucked up he wouldn’t feel it, but it never came. Instead, he landed on his ass and beside him dropped the body of the batarian, one of his four eyes blown clean through.

Blinking in confusion, he lifted his head towards where the Asari stood. She had her arms crossed, something of a smirk turning up her lips.

“Way to play hero, tough guy.” She mused, shaking her head. From above her, there was the sound of a lone clap that echoed through the music and darkness. It made Garrus’ head throb.

“That was dramatic,” another voice drawled. Garrus tilted his heavy head back up to a balcony above the Asari girl. Holding a pistol and a look of boredom, was the famed Aria T’loak.

He’d never spoken to her before. Never ventured up to the levels of Afterlife where she tended to business. Most of his time on Omega had been a blur of booze, but even he had heard all the shit she’d done to get to the top. Seeing her looking down at him like he was gum on her shoe didn’t make him feel confident he’d be walking out of here without a bullet wound of his own. It all depended on her mood.

This night was about to go to hell in more ways than one.

“You completely missed them. Aren’t you supposed to be former C-Sec? I thought a trained officer would have a little better aim than whatever that was.” She shook her head, but to his relief, stowed her pistol and turned to walk down the flight of stairs until she was before the Asari he’d tried to defend.

“Way to play, Niva. I’ll make sure you get that bonus.” Aria took the drive out of the Niva’s hand, who nodded and walked past Garrus without so much as a glance down at him.

“Better try being sober the next time you plan to act chivalrous. Or you’ll just end up getting in the way.”

The words stung more than he’d expected. Getting in the way…that’s exactly what he’d done. Whatever had happened, Niva had been perfectly safe. Aria had planned the shot. If he’d actually stumbled into the batarian and he’d fired…well, either he or the Asari would have payed the price for his stupidity.

Shepard wouldn’t have been proud of that.

He managed to push himself up against a nearby wall, watching Aria with caution as she weighed the drive in her palm.

“Was that a…a game?” He groaned as his stomach churned again.

“A game? No. There wasn’t even any competition.” Aria sniffed, almost disappointed. “The Blue Suns have been holding out on me. Heard they’d been shorting me. That bastard,” her eyes flicked to the dead man on her dance floor, “was dumb enough to come in here bragging about a smuggling operation he’d set up for his gang. But, he hadn’t actually shared it with his superiors.”

She stepped closer to Garrus, but diverted her path to circle the batarian. She was all ice, calm as a cool breeze, but he could tell there was the most deadly of predators lurking under her blue skin.

“The gangs would be pissed if they heard I was killing off their hires. Niva makes it look like he’d starting a fight with one of my employees that I had to finish. Now I get the creds, the Blue Suns have no idea they missed out on a lucrative opportunity, and this guy, well, he shouldn’t have been getting handsy with my girls.”

Aria shrugged a bored shoulder.

“Is there a reason you’re sharing such esteemed plans with me?” Garrus asked dryly. He knew he was probably pushing his luck at this point, but Aria wasn’t pointing a gun at him currently. He was ahead for the time being.

“Because I’ve never seen such a waste,” she bent down and delicately plucked what looked to be a cred chip from the batarian’s vest and stowed it in her pocket.

“You’re C-Sec. Ex-Spectre in training. Apparently helped save those prissies on the Citadel. Talent like that shouldn’t be down here drinking.” She took a step before him and tilted her head slightly to the side. “At least not during prime hours.” She purred, eyes blazing.

“It should be working for me.”

That tilt of her head reminded Garrus of a Tesenter, one of the most dangerous predators on Palaven. It always assessed prey like that before it struck.

He opened his mouth, willing some sort of denial or excuse to come out, but instead, Aria waved a hand.

“Don’t bother. You’re in no state to talk business.” She instead turned her back on him, gesturing with her head towards the exit he’d been so desperate to reach.

“If I were you, I’d go get your shit together. If you want to stay on Omega, you’re going to need to toughen the fuck up. Next time you probably will get someone killed.”

“Think about what I said, Vakarian. You could be making good creds working for me.” And with that, she climbed the stairs back up to her little kingdom above Afterlife.

He waited a couple of seconds to make sure she wasn’t going to shoot him in the back for bailing, but eventually he got himself together enough to finally hurrying down the hallway and out into the streets of Omega again.

When he did, he promptly returned to his shitbox apartment. It was just as lifeless as it had been earlier in the day. He let his body sink into the basic cot he had set up and stared at the dented ceiling overhead.

Any other night, he would have waited for the relief of unconsciousness. Probably would have woken with a killer hangover sometime in the afternoon and started the cycle all over again.

Tonight, however, Garrus Vakarian couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of potential. If pit-boss Aria saw some value in him, surely he could find some use for himself.

That Asari, Niva, she hadn’t really been in danger but how many times over his career in C-Sec has he watched the wicked go unpunished? Or when Dr. Heart, that mad bastard, had escaped the Citadel? Shepard had taught him that lives came first, something he was grateful for, but what the galaxy needed were more people like her. People unafraid to do what it takes to help others and stop the monsters.

If she was gone, if she couldn’t be here anymore, then he knew what he needed. What he wanted.

He was going to pick up that mantle himself. Take down the gangs, the corruption, the villains himself. She’d been a protector, someone watching out for the people of the galaxy even when they didn’t know it was her. Like a guardian angel.

He’d make her proud. No matter what or how, Garrus would make sure that all that he had learned from Shepard never was forgotten.

[ordinaryhuahua]

I have this urge to yap. So yap, I shall.

Many of us view Mr. Qi as the one who sits on the highest of stardew food chain, and he canonically is. That's why, as far as I know, there is little to no love rivalry in his fanfics. And I mean the rival that befits to compete with this man. The one he can't easily get rid out. The one that will make you, the farmer, hesitant with your heart decision.

Um...maybe two? Anyway.

First, you need to view Stardew Valley as its own universe, not a game. Every characters are not npc, and their capabilities are beyond what is programmed of them. If you don't look at it this way, no one stands a chance against blue man because he's the end game.

1. Rasmodius: Obviously. He's a wizard. I think he's also older than Mr. Qi, if not the same age. Their prowess are either equal or slightly differ depends on your hc about these two. But the power difference won't be too big. Their differences lie in ambition. Mr. Qi has more of it, while Rasmodius looks like he wants nothing to do with worldly matters. However, I believe that this wizard can flip the whole world just for you, if he chooses to.

2. Sebastian: He is the only canon marriage candidate that stands a chance against the blue man. If you're the emo boy enjoyers, you know he has so much potential. Some speculates that he is part-shadow people, part-human since he gives you goods from the mines like it's something so easy to find, while in fact you need to go deep to obtain it. And he is strong if he can go that deep, regardless of his blood origin.

He also has wits about him. Imagine Alex going into the mines. He has the strength to take him there, but I doubt he'd figure out each monster as quick as Seb could. Those dnd campaigns aren't entirely childish and useless after all. Sebastian is no stranger to magic and darkness. He might even thrive in that kind of environment.

Next is his personality and mentality. Sebastian is stubborn. I don't think he will back down just because someone threatens him. This man is already angry with his stepdad, so might as well have a beef with another older man. Sadly, this is also a disadvantage. If Seb is not aware or unable to control himself, the family conflict and inner turmoil can be played against him.

To bring this to the next level, what if Seb could eat stardrops and forge weapon like we could? He would be unstoppable. Imagine him getting that galaxy weapon set and a permanant luck increase. Seb could even be a better fighter than us. I can literally see him reaching level 100 in Skull Cavern. On another perspective, he is like a younger Qi, only lacks strong goal and ambition.

And most importantly, this man has the advantage that Mr. Qi doesn't. Sebastian is someone your age. I know some of you prefer older men, but hear me out. Sebastian has the youth and a life that is not yet spent. This is like a blank canva that allows you and him to paint it together, to build a life you two dream of. Mr. Qi, on the other hand, leaves very little space for you to paint anything more.

Not to mention that you two belong to the same world. Rasmodius and Mr. Qi dwell in the hidden part of the society, but Seb lives on the surface just like you. Marrying Seb also makes your life less complicate (although the matter of the heart rarely concerns with practicality).

That's why I think Seb will make a good love rival. He has every traits a good fighter and strategist need, if allowed to develop beyond the role of npc. Although Qi has the allure of mystery and the larger-than-life charm, Sebatian has youth, potential, and sense of fimiliarity.

.

Sometimes I think to myself: Would Mr. Qi be insecure because Seb is younger, that he's someone your age, and belong to your world?

It's hard to imagine such powerful man feeling insecure. He might, or he might not. No one knows.

In the end, it's entirely up to what you prefer and enjoy. Whoever you choose wins the game of love.

[rexxdjarin]

Unwritten

The Captain’s Log Prequel

A Captain Rex x OC: Mari Vontas Origin Story

Chapter 4: Discoveries in Uncharted Space

Series Summary: Mari Vontas has spent nearly twenty years of her life rising to the surface of the bustling ecumenopolis of the Republic Capital planet of Coruscant. Now, about a year into the conflict known galaxy-wide as the Clone Wars, Mari finds herself on a Civilian Rights Committee serving closely under none other than Senator Padmé Amidala. Though her passion for justice fuels her professionally, her personal life has yet to catch up. That is, until a night at the clone bar 79s changes her passion for her job, her historically rocky love life and the trajectory of her destiny forever.

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Pairing: Captain Rex x OC Mari Vontas Word Count: 10k Series Rating: Explicit (18+ only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT) Chapter Summary: Mari and Rex's profound indulgence in each other has its roots in an unexpected place, from a near-death experience, with thoughts of a once unimaginable future on their horizon. Chapter Warnings: 18+ Explicit, NSFW, P in V Sex, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Language, Political References, References to Canon Plot, References to Canon, Mentions of the Ethics of War, Cloning and Clone Independence, References to Violence and Injuries

There was nothing about Mari’s surface-level life that she could ever fully grow accustomed to; not the sunlight shining on her face as it rose over the skyline and through her window, not the fact that her apartment was thousands of credits a month instead of government-supplied, and certainly not the fact that she had Republic senate transport readily available for her use whenever she wanted.

She was fully content to take the tram or local hovercabs everywhere. She had been an average citizen for most of her life so far–maybe less than average if she was honest with herself. A lift through the lower levels from a droid didn’t bother her the same way it would most of her coworkers, so when she suggested they hail a hovercab or take the tram home from the biggest senate event on the planet, Rex looked at her in disbelief.

They spent the entire ride to her apartment letting their hands wander just enough to explore each others’ bodies without disturbing the driver. Not that Mari cared particularly. She wasn’t the first girl to spend her late-night hours fooling around with a clone, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the last–especially not when he happened to be hands down the hottest hook-up she’d ever had.

His massive, armor-covered bicep slung over her shoulders as he pulled her tightly into his side, keeping her warm enough to stave off the chill of the cool night air. She normally loved watching the illuminated windows of Coruscant’s sky-level buildings pass by her as she made her way through traffic, but tonight her sights were focused elsewhere. 

Rex’s beautifully rounded jawline tensed as he focused on their surroundings. Now and then he glanced down at her, flashing her his cute little side smile and turning back to watch their commute to hide the blush on his cheeks. His deep brown eyes flitted over the changing landscape as they sped through the air like he was carefully watching for any danger that could pull him away from this moment and into action. 

More than anything, Mari wanted to throw herself into his lap again and steal all his attention away. Yet, watching him scan the world around them was equally as fascinating, and she would’ve paid as many credits as she had to watch him in action. He was a captain after all, so he must’ve been quite the intimidating man in battle. The Separatists wouldn’t stand a chance and she was sure his battle records probably reflected that.

By the time they arrived at her district, Mari was so turned on from watching him all focused and protective that she wasn’t even sure she could walk out of the cab. Well, that and the fact that she was understandably sore from taking him in that empty office only an hour earlier. She mustered up every ounce of strength she had left and followed him out of the transport, letting him take her hand to help her steady herself.

Rex tangled his fingers with hers and stepped forward, starting a leisurely pace to accommodate her. “So,” he started, looking around at the gilded, shimmering buildings that made up her block and laughed softly, “this is home huh? Fancy. Beats the hell out of our barracks.”

“It’s a lot more private if that’s what you mean.” she joked, pulling her dress up to allow her to move more easily. Rex looked at her knowingly and stopped, holding out his hand expectantly.

“Let me help you with that. Don’t want you to trip.”

“No no, it’s fine, really. I got it. I think I can handle holding some fabric.”

“I made it hard enough for you to walk as it is, c’mon let me help.” he chuckled, a twinkle of innuendo-laced mischief sparking in his pretty brown eyes.

Mari dropped her gaze to the street below, her messy curls falling lazily over her shoulder. Now she was the one blushing. “Fine, Captain. I will let you help me, but only because you owe me for ruining this in the first place.” She lifted the satin fabric high enough off the ground to expose her feet and handed him whatever excess he could hold.

He watched her carefully, his gaze roving over her curvy frame all over again. “Oh, I will make it up to you. I promise.” His eyes crinkled into little half moons when he smiled and Mari felt her belly tighten in response to what was clearly a more than suggestive promise. “But I think it might not end well for that dress, Mari. Not with how crazy good you look in it.”

“Oh, that’s ok. I have other things you might like seeing me in,” she replied, biting her bottom lip and blinking up at him innocently. “Or you know… not in.”

Rex’s brows raised and he shook his head in disbelief at his luck tonight. “Come on then, mesh’la. Take me home. You can show me around later.” He took a handful of her dress and urged her forward, ready to follow her lead toward her building only a few blocks up the path. She obliged and started on her way, practically skipping with excitement and swaying her backside more than necessary just to tease him.

They approached her skyscraper and snuck in the backdoor on the speeder platform, preferring to use the more private entrance set aside for the famous and wealthy to use unbothered by the public. It was perfect for sneaking someone out or, in their case, sneaking someone in. It took everything in Mari not to smother him in kisses in the lift up to her floor and by the time they got to her door, she was sure her desire for him must’ve been radiating off her in waves.

She jammed in her chaincode and her apartment doors slid open, the whole place illuminated by the neon signs that dotted the speeder lane her apartment overlooked. She stepped inside and Rex followed, the tamping of his plastoid boots on her solid marble floors filling the air. She flicked the lights on and set her stuff on the shelf, removing her heels and shrinking down another few inches. Rex ran his hand down her arm, reminding her of just how much she had wanted him to get her out of this dress again. Instead, he slowly walked past her, looking around at the size of her place and taking it all in.

Her hallway was dotted with her favorite flimsis of herself and her friends. A large circular portal door marked entry into the main room, a living room with a deep purple flat cushioned sofa and floating white caf table in front of a holoscreen she watched all her favorite shows on. A small white island divided the living room and the kitchen, where an unopened box of groceries sat waiting to be organized into place. Her bedroom door was just beyond the living space off the hallway on the other side and though she was itching to pull him in there, he clearly enjoyed looking around.

“Welcome to my place.” she declared awkwardly, never quite feeling or even believing that it was hers sometimes. “Sorry, I didn’t clean up much. It was a rough week.”

He stopped in the center of her living room to look out the massive circular window onto her small balcony and turned back at her in amazement. “This whole place is just yours? It’s amazing.”

“Thanks. I love it, but it can feel a little too big sometimes. It’s much more than I’ve ever had before.”

“Yeah…a lot more than I’m used to.” he chuckled, “I mean I’ve got my own quarters. But most of the time I’m just on a cot. Don’t have time to make it feel like a home, you know?”

Oddly enough, she did know. She knew all too well.

After her parents died and she was put up in her republic sanctioned boarding house, she didn’t bother to decorate anything. It wasn’t home to her. A single bed in a single corner of a cold, stale building on the lower third of Coruscant wasn’t anything worth getting used to. Wherever else she and Siviee could find to hold up in always felt cooler than republic housing.

This was the first place that truly belonged to her and though she loved decorating it, it still didn’t feel real sometimes. As if she was inevitably going to be taken back underground to one of her secret hideouts any day now. Never staying in the same place long enough to call it home.

Yeah, she understood exactly what Rex meant, but she didn’t need to tell him that. Not yet.

“Makes sense.” She shrugged off the subject and made her way to the kitchen to put away the groceries that her building's protocol droid routinely dropped off at the end of every week. “At least you’ve got all your brothers around. Though having met your men, it seems like you’ve got your hands full,” she smirked, remembering how his men razzed him at the bar the first night they met.

Rex cocked his head in agreement, “And that wasn’t even close to all of them.” He stepped closer, looking nervously at her as if he needed to ask for permission to sit. She had to remind herself she was dealing with a soldier, he would probably do that a lot.

She smiled at him, pulling out a stool and nodding him toward it. “You don’t have to ask me to sit, Rex. You can do whatever you want with me. There are no rules here.” She didn’t mean that to come out as suggestively as it did, but she didn’t feel too inclined to take it back either.

“Uh- right. Just being polite.” he sputtered out with a sheepish grin, taking a seat and making Mari’s insides flutter at his endearing awkwardness. He was so out of his element here it was almost funny. He may not have ever stepped foot inside a civilian residence off the clock. He was like a deer in speeder glowbeams.

“So how many men do you lead then, Captain?” Mari asked as she shut the last of her groceries in her cabinets. “I’m supposed to know this, being a member of the Senate and all, but the details of the Grand Army of the Republic are still fuzzy to me.”

Rex set his helmet on the counter and crossed his arms, the plastoid clattering as he settled into the stool. “Well that depends. Technically, I am in charge of the entire 501st Battalion which is really a Regiment of 2,304 men. Most Battalions are 576 men. You only met some of the boys from Torrent Company , which is 144 men.”

Mari blinked at him dramatically in confusion. “How is anyone supposed to follow that ?” she laughed and leaned on the counter, letting her breasts spill out of the top of her dress just enough to keep things interesting.

He tried very hard to pretend not to notice, but his much slower response told Mari that her teasing was working. Just like before, she wanted to see how far she could push him before he’d make a move. She couldn’t always be the one doing all the work. She wanted to be reminded again of what he was made of.

“Well, as is the case with my General, we don’t. Technically a group our size requires a Clone Commander .” Rex pointed out, his focused stare beginning to wander other places as the lust expanded the dark depths of his pupils.

Mari’s not-so-innocent glare met his as her hands began to wander up the length of his arm while he spoke. She traced the scratches and deep gouge marks on the plastoid, her mind just as fascinated by the stories his armor told. “And you’re not a Commander? Certainly seemed like you could’ve been to me.”

She stepped closer, walking her fingers up his biceps and giggling softly. She unclasped the buckles of his armor, unceremoniously letting his shoulder pauldrons and his chest plate fall to the floor beneath them. He turned toward her instinctively and allowed her body to slot between his knees. “Our…our Commander is the General’s Padawan. I was with her earlier. Besides, I prefer being a Captain…more-more hands-on.”

“That’s the idea.” Mari quipped, sliding herself now chest to chest with him and practically eliciting a whine out of him. “I seem to recall you being very…very good with those hands.” she carefully ran her hands down the length of his arms, removing the last of the armor on his upper body. The standard black issue body glove clung to him in all the right places and highlighted the dips and curves of his muscles beautifully.

Rex exhaled to calm himself, unclasping the armor on his lower half to remove it as well, and grinning at her as she groomed his ego. “I am. They…uhm…the boys count on me. The General trusts me to lead them all, even as a Captain. It’s more work than most Captains ever get, but I’m good at it. I love a challenge.”

“That’s a lot of weight to carry, blondie,” Mari joked, running her fingers along the pale blond fuzz at the nape of his neck. She traced her touch along knots formed along the broad line of his shoulders over a brutal year of war. “on these big, gorgeous shoulders. I don’t know how you manage it all.”

His eyes explored her face, darting between the depth in her brown eyes to the part of her kiss-flushed lips. He chuffed as he smiled half-heartedly, “That’s what my training was for. Besides, all that helps me do this.” Suddenly, his broad hands slid behind her back, hoisting her up onto her counter with ease and sliding her waist flush with his.

Mari giggled in both nervousness and anticipation, watching the familiar lust return to his pretty face. He rested his forehead on hers, pure passion simmering within him waiting for a spark to start the fire again. She could practically feel the blood pumping him full against her center and she slowly exhaled to let the tension build. His focus on her was so powerful it was almost intimidating, but his dominance over her gave her a rush she couldn’t help craving more of.

After a few tantalizing heartbeats and Rex’s battle-worn hands caressing the dip of her waist over her dress, she steadied herself on an elbow and cupped his cheek with her hand. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to relieve your stress-” Mari licked her lower lip and smirked up at him devilishly.

“I’ve got a few ideas.” He muttered, his other hand sliding further up her thigh underneath the blue satin hem. Mari’s chest heaved as her pulse raced faster and Rex stole a pretty obvious glance down at her breasts threatening to pop out of her dress. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“You can have anything you want, Captain.” She trailed her fingertips down the thick corded vein in his neck, his pulse pounding beneath her touch. The tension in him was wound far tighter than his soldier’s composure would ever betray. She gripped the duraweave fabric clinging to his broad back and tugged upward, motioning for him to remove it. He smirked up at her and followed her unspoken orders, removing his top and tossing it into a heap on her floor. As Mari’s touch ghosted down the tight muscles of his chest and rippled over his abdominals, his weighted palm hooked into the crease of her upper thigh.

“I know what I want...” he muttered as if to declare it to the galaxy for maybe the first time. His fingertips traced across her hip bone and he dragged them tantalizing slowly down her soft skin. “To return the favor, mesh’la.” He smiled, tipping her chin in his other hand and drawing her attention to the passion in his eyes.

Mari let out a surprised sigh as the tension snapped and Rex closed the tantalizing space between them. She let her lips part and his tongue slipped inside, sliding over hers with calculated reverence. His lips were smooth, the faintest hint of champagne still lingering from the gala earlier. He took silent breaths each time he broke for air, goading her into chasing after him for more.

His hands worked twice as hard as his tongue, meticulously working to move her dress out of his way and sliding the delicate straps off her shoulders. His bare fingertips ghosted up her inner thighs, making her shudder the closer he ventured to her center. Mari couldn’t help the way her hips bucked closer to him, desperate for him to feel the heat he was already coaxing out of her.

“You always so needy?” he whispered between kisses, letting his other hand tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck as he held her.

“Oh you have no idea.” she giggled, letting her head drop back to give him easier access to her neck. He took the hint, breaking from her lips to lave his hot tongue along her jaw. She gasped, breaking into a delighted smile as his hand slid further down her back. “Especially looking like you do.”

“Is that so?” he teased, his tongue tracing down the corded vein in her neck. “I could have a lot of fun with you…” His lips closed in on the hollow of her neck, sucking what would no doubt turn into a massive purple mark on her skin. “Could tease you and make you wait hours.” he chuckled, his fingers catching the latch of her bra and snapping it open easily.

Mari whined pathetically, her free hand rushing to grip his bicep. “Please don’t.” she pleaded, catching his eye as he backed up to slip the bra off her chest. He smirked, gently twirling one of her fallen curls around his finger. He moved it aside slowly, brushing it off the curve of her breast so he could cup it in his hand.

He smiled at her appreciatively and ran the pad of his thumb over her pebbled nipple. Dipping back down into the crook of her neck, he traced down to meet where his hand cupped her breast, leaving hot kisses in his wake. “Don’t worry, mesh’la, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.” he muttered, popping off the plush of her breast so hard it was sure to break the blood vessels underneath. “No man could be that strong, trust me.”

“Good because I don’t want to waste another second without feeling you.” Mari said, her free hand scratching along the hair on the back of his neck. She gasped as he suckled her nipple between his lips, his tongue swirling around and sending shivers up her back. “ Oh Rex .”

He hummed with amusement, letting his strong hand massage her other breast lewdly. “You like that hmm?” He looked up at her with a smirk, his breath across her spit-slick skin making her nipples harden at the sudden cold. “Can’t help but worship ‘em. Your tits are fucking perfect.”

“Just like the rest of me?” she quipped, not quite ready to let him win yet. Her back arched as he turned his attention to the other breast, leaving another purple mark to match the first. He hummed in confirmation, his wandering hands now bunching up the fabric at her waist in a decisive effort to remove it.

“Exactly. I see why you’ve got all that confidence I like so much.” he smiled up at her, fiddling with the side zipper on her dress and finally sliding it open. “Those stuffy idiots you work with should appreciate you more. We certainly would.” With a firm tug he motioned for her to wriggle her hips and he slid the dress right off of her. “Bold, outspoken, funny, smart…we clones always take notice of someone like you.”

His palms ran gingerly down her bare sides like he was carving the shape of her from his own imagination. Trailing kisses down her stomach, he let each one linger the closer he got to her core. His warm breath coaxed the flames of the burning desire now swirling in her belly just like they had before. He could work her into a frenzy just like this, so tenderly and so easily. It was a nice change of pace from men in her past who spent practically no time prepping her this intimately before sex.

“You always talk so much? I bet you say such nice things to every girl who likes you.” Mari challenged, biting her lower lip while his hands massaged at the curve of her backside. She could feel his smirk against her skin as he gripped her ass harder.

“Only if it’s someone who deserves to hear it,” he muttered sweetly, kissing just below her navel and turning his grip inward to run over her inner thigh cautiously. “You act like I do this often.” Rex giggled, shaking his head at her in disbelief. She was always someone who took a lot of convincing, especially after all that men had done to her.

“I know what most clones get up to on shore leave. It’s my job to know.” Mari laughed, her breasts bouncing as her chest heaved. Rex couldn’t look away, losing his train of thought as he stared longingly. “Who do you think makes sure the Republic pays the subsidies so 79s can stay open?”

Rex’s brows raised in surprise. “On behalf of my men, you have our eternal thanks, but I lost interest in that kinda thing the second I was made captain. Don’t usually have the time for fun like that…or other things.” He glared at her, almost as if he was trying to reassure her through eye contact alone.

From Mari’s point of view, she had a gorgeous, half-naked, decorated clone captain situating himself between her legs and touching exactly the right places to drive her crazy. Either he had done this loads of times before or this was the fate of the universe bringing exactly the right person to her. After being given absolutely no favors in life and never being graced with the force’s mystical abilities, Mari was far more inclined to believe the former. She could never be that lucky.

They stared at each other for a few tantalizing heartbeats until slowly Rex gripped her inner thigh, his kisses following his hands into the crease. “Don’t worry, mesh’la. I know a guy doesn’t come across someone like you every day.”

Mari shivered as she watched Rex inch ever closer to where she wanted his attention. He slowed down, dragging things out to let the tension build, but keeping his movements slow and his eyes on her. Her heart was pounding, making her cunt gently throb to the rhythm of her pulse. She wanted him to have her all over again and the look in his eyes gave her no indication that he planned on stopping.

Rex backed up, maintaining his mesmerizing gaze as he exhaled a long pent-up hiss. His warm roughened palms slid up the insides of her thighs to just graze the bare skin of her core. “Mari-” Mari’s breath hitched in her throat as he looked down at where his hands rested. He drew little soothing circles against her skin with his thumb and waited for her attention again. “Do you trust me?”

What he was suggesting was a thousand times more intimate than most of the things she’d done with men she had actually dated . She’d only known him a week, give or take a few rotations. Yet, he waited for her approval. He checked in with her and went at a pace she was comfortable with. The haze of lust darkening his brown eyes was as enticing as it was honest and endearing. Suddenly, she was never more sure of anything in her life.

“Yes.” she whined, reaching for something to hold on to and finding his hand already there to receive hers. He kissed each knuckle softly before settling to his knees. Mari parted her thighs and trembled as she exposed her bare core to him. He inhaled sharply, his eyes glazing over with want as she showed him what he had been longing for.

He settled her hand down onto the smooth counter surface and stroked his palm along the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her heat. Turning his attention toward the delicate exposed skin, he placed painfully light kisses closer and closer to her center.

“My pretty girl…” he muttered, kissing just along the outer folds and making goosebumps erupt across the expanse of her satiny smooth skin. “I want to make you feel as good as you deserve.” The pad of his thumb gingerly traced patterns just above her clit, letting her anticipation build even more. “Like you’re the only person in the galaxy who gets to know pleasure like this.”

His gaze locked with hers, his tongue darting out to wet his lips and just barely grazing the node. Mari let out a shaky exhale, her lower half trembling as excitement and adrenaline overtook her. His eyes blazed with determination and he didn’t look away for a second as he calculated his next move. With a deep exhale that sent his heated breaths of anticipation along her wet lips, he leaned in, pressing a solid kiss to her clit.

“Oh Rex…more kisses… please ,” Mari whined impatiently, feeling the prickling heat of desire rushing into her lower belly all at once. He hummed in satisfaction, the sensation only adding to the tingling at her core. Slowly, he dotted kiss after kiss on her sensitive clit, each one lasting a little longer than the last.

Unsurprisingly, he was just as good with his tongue as he was with his fingers a few hours ago. He held her eager hips down with one hand and parted her folds with the other. His lips wrapped around her clit, earning a high-pitched mewl as it made tingles spread outward from her core. He suckled gently, his fingers circling her wet entrance to tease her more. “That’s it, mesh’la. Taste so good. You want me in that pretty pussy again, don’t you?”

“Mhm. I’m ready, Rex. Take whatever you want. I’m yours.” she whined, rolling her hips toward him for more. His palms slid outward along her inner thighs, holding her steady to prevent her from picking up the pace.

“I know you are, Mari. And you’re such a good girl for me, but we have time and I want to give you the attention you deserve.” Rex cooed, leaning in to kiss her clit again and pressing his tongue firmly against the swollen node. She shook with anticipation, the heat swirling in her lower belly rapidly pooling at her entrance. She tried to writhe for more, but his hands held her steady.

His tongue lapped over the bud with increasing speed, strands of saliva dripping down between her folds illicitly. Mari moaned as the tension carried her higher, her back arching off the cool stone of her countertop. She laid out before him, fully naked, dripping with want, and totally at his command. It was filthy and forbidden and she loved it.

One of her hands gripped at the frictionless stone behind her, the other scratching along the rippling muscles of his bare shoulder. His tongue delved lower with each pass, parting her folds and tasting the wetness coating them. He groaned, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he enjoyed more of her.

“You’re…so good at that… Rex .” Mari whined, her thighs beginning to shake as the tension in her belly tightened even more. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, but the racing of her pulse only made her cunt throb harder.

Rex’s gaze flicked up to watch her tits shifting lewdly with every movement. “I know,” he said as he chuckled with satisfaction. “I can tell.”

He was eating her out like he’d been starved for years and in his defense he probably had been. Clones didn’t often have time for foreplay at all, much less like this. Mari watched him through her lustful gaze. His brows screwed together in determined concentration, his pupils blown wide with desire and that signature grin on his face combined to make him so irresistibly attractive it made her body overheat.

Her opening fluttered around his tongue, just beginning to dip down inside her. White hot desire flared down her spine and she moaned so loudly she was grateful they were alone this time. Rex chuckled in smug satisfaction, the vibrations making Mari shudder with delight all over again. “You’ve been dripping for me since we left the gala, haven’t you? All over that cab too?”

Mari couldn’t vocalize a response anymore. She could barely do more than nod at him. He was overwhelming her much more quickly than before and she was sure one of those wide, strong fingers of his entering her would be her undoing. Just as she thought it, one finger replaced his tongue, slipping inside her opening with ease. Her walls received him eagerly, siphoning him deeper within her and making her whimper at the intrusion. “R-rex…I can’t-can’t take much more.”

He was too lost in her to register her words and he swore under his breath at the feeling of her slick now coating his fingers. “Say that again ,” he asked, licking another stripe over her clit. “My name. Say my name like that again. Sounds so good when you say it.” He pulled back and let a second finger enter with the first, his thumb gently padding her clit to keep the steady burn rising.

The familiar haze of climax was beginning to form inside her and she was barely conscious enough to remember her own name. But she wanted to please him and to let him know that if he kept treating her this well, she’d give him anything he asked. “Rex,” she moaned loudly, the sound making him chuckle with dark satisfaction, “Rex I’m so close.”

He curled his fingers inside her, massaging the spot that she had only ever been able to find on her own. Mari cried out in pleasure, droves of curses following as he prodded at the same spot in perfect rhythm with his circles on her clit. “Right there… fuck ..r-right there.”

Rex's brow furrowed with determination and he let out a few curses of his own as he kept at his mind-melting pace. “See? I know exactly how to take care of you, don’t I? Want to make you cum the way only I can. Can you do that for me, mesh’la?”

His fingertips fluttered against the spot inside her that made her see stars and she could feel the heat inside starting to overwhelm her. Everything about him was making her hot and she wanted nothing more than to give him what he so clearly desired. She whimpered, meeting his gaze as he let his tongue swirl over her clit again. “Cum for me, Mari. All over my fingers so I can taste you, pretty girl.”

Mari’s heart was pounding in her chest, the thumping rhythm of her pulse reaching a crescendo as she locked eyes with him. The passion in his eyes as he devoured her was such a stark contrast to the gentle, complimentary, polite nature he had always shown her. This side of him was maddeningly sexy and more seductive than any soldier-any man -she had ever known. His eyelids hooded in overwhelming desire as he suckled at her clit one final time, watching carefully for her reaction as he pressed his fingers up into her spot again, hard.

Her high collided with her at blinding speed, making her vision go white and a fantastic wave of sizzling tension melt down the entire length of her body. Her opening fluttered around his fingers, her walls clamping down on them inside and flooding her molten heat into his waiting palm. She sang out moans that would’ve made lewd holovid actors jealous and that she was absolutely positive she had never made for any other man before in her life. Mari’s fingers desperately scraped the smooth marbled countertop for something, anything to hold onto as her entire body convulsed with pleasure.

Instead, she was met with the warmth of his free hand again, his fingers tangling with hers and his thumb caressing the soft skin as she rode out her climax. “Easy, cyar’ika. I’ve got you. So fucking pretty watching you cum. Breathe and enjoy it. I want you to remember this the same way I always will.” He muttered, his fingers inside her still very slowly stimulating her as the spasming in her walls slowed.

All the heat in her body was replaced with the pleasant feeling of floating and finality she always experienced after any encounter she’d ever had. Yet none of them ever felt quite as all-consuming as this. If there was ever a way to know what floating in uncharted space felt like, Mari imagined it was something like this.

She giggled with delight, letting her every nerve ending feel the spark of pleasure he had brought her to. There was nothing else in her atmosphere but him. He surrounded her in every way and would keep her in this state of blissful balance for as long as he could.

“Wow…Rex.” she smiled at him, “get up here and kiss me.” Both of her hands grabbed for him this time and he slowly rose to his feet. His chin glistened with her wet release and he lifted her still boneless body into his arms to hold her steady.

“That good huh?” he shot her a cocky smirk, reaching up to wipe his chin with the back of his palm. Before he could, Mari grabbed both his cheeks in her hands and planted a sloppy kiss on him, licking the taste of her off of his lips. He tangled his hands in her hair, his tongue twisting with hers and savoring the taste of her pussy on both their tongues.

Mari broke from the kiss gasping and cleaned off the rest of his face with the pad of her thumb. “So, so unbelievably good.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “So good…that I don’t think I want it to end just yet. If that’s ok with you, Sir.”

Rex chuckled mischievously, “oh you want more , my filthy mesh’la?” he growled playfully, kneading her bottom in his hands. He turned them both around, looking for her bedroom door and finding its location with relative ease. “That can be arranged.”

Her thighs tightened their hold on his waist and she leaned back in his grasp to look at him eye to eye. “Ah ah…but this time I call the shots. I still have to put you in your place for earlier. My poor dress, what a shame,” she playfully tutted, scolding him softly.

His brows raised in surprise, “Yes ma’am. Whatever you say.” He smirked, a twinkle of mischief and excitement sparking in his eyes. He moved to her room faster than his perfectly engineered body could carry him, Mari continuing to dot his neck with little kisses.

She could feel his growing thickness against her bare center, the familiar warmth making her body ache for more of him all over again. Dragging her kisses to just below his jawline, she shifted her weight to pull him further into her room. He stopped in the doorway, grabbing her cheek and turning to lock her into another kiss.

He wanted her, she could feel it in the strength behind his kisses and the urgency in his steps. Faster and faster his heartbeats pounded against where her chest met his. Between broken kisses, he muttered the directive he needed, “Where…do you…want me?”

Mari pulled away, glancing at the state of her room behind her. She didn’t have much time to clean before she left for the gala earlier, but it wasn’t untidy. She couldn’t stand a messy bed, so naturally, that was their best option, thankfully. Rex suckled at the juncture where her jaw met her neckline, making her gasp out loud right before she could answer him. “B-bed,” she smiled, her hands dropping to grip his bicep. “Lay down for me.”

His dark eyes flitted around the unfamiliar room, finding her bed toward the back right wall. Humming in satisfaction he rasped, “Hmm, like it when you give me orders.” Mari giggled in response, unable to hide the blushed heat rising in her cheeks. He made his way toward her bed, spinning to seat himself down on the side of it.

Slowly, she slid her palms down his arms, working to get hold of his hands as she rolled her hips against his lap. “Well then tonight I can be in charge of you, Captain,” she whispered, her voice husky with lust. Her fingers wrapped around his wrists and she threw him down beneath her, pinning his arms above his head. “Understand?”

He exhaled shakily, his cock twitching against her heat and his eyes hooding with want. “Perfectly.” He rolled his hips up into her, the straining cloth of his bottoms catching her clit cruelly. “I’m all yours, gorgeous.”

She sat herself up, flattening her palms onto his lower torso. Her fingertips traced the cushioned muscles, following the subtle dips and curves of his abs until she reached his bottoms. “Since you love teasing me with these, better get them off you.”

Rex snorted, “you act like that’s a punishment for me.” He lifted his hips allowing her wiggle room to slide his black duraweave bottoms down his thighs. He shuddered as she palmed him over his briefs. Her hands stroked the length of him, eager to make him feel as good as he had her.

“Be careful, soldier. I can make it one if you really want me to.” She dipped her head down to where her hands were, eager to leave her faint lipstick stains on the strained fabric of his briefs. Rex nodded at her, following her intention to its logical conclusion and swallowing thickly as he waited in anticipation. She smirked, leaning forward to press a heavy kiss on his still-clothed tip. His head tipped back onto her mattress, sighing in delight as she let the trail of kisses travel down his shaft.

“Fuck…really like that. Such a little tease, aren’t ya.” He groaned, his deep voice gravelly and low as primal desire took over. His thighs shifted uncomfortably, desperate to have her touch him more.

Mari curled her fingers beneath the hem of his briefs and tugged them down slowly, her lips dragging kisses back up his length to meet his now bare tip. Grazing his sensitive head with her tongue, he gasped and bucked his hips into her. His hands flew to her head on instinct, slipping into her hair and holding on as her touch lingered.

She had absolutely no intention of making him wait any longer or prepping him any more than he already was. She needed his perfect, throbbing cock filling her now. But he didn’t know that. His hands cupped her cheek and slipped falling strands of hair out of her face, thinking that more delightful torture was imminent.

Instead, Mari sat up, sliding his bottoms fully off him and letting his cock slap up against his torso. “Oh normally I can be. But I can’t wait anymore to have you.” She slung her leg over his waist, straddling him fully and grabbing his sides for balance. He looked up at her in very thankful awe, resting his hands on her widened thighs.

He stared up at her, his gaze unbreakable and focused and his endearing smile growing on his handsome face. “Me neither,” he muttered, sliding his palms along the curves of her hips to grip her waist. Those beautiful brown eyes of his were never more honest than when they were looking at her and her heart jumped into her throat as the moment froze them both in time for a few breaths.

She broke first to line her entrance up with him, hovering above him torturously and jerking her hips along his length to slick him with the wetness coating her folds from her previous climax. Mari inhaled sharply, her body so desperate to feel him again it was making her shake. His reassuring hands on her waist and hip bone kept her grounded in the moment.

“Easy, my mesh’la, easy. I’ve got you. Take as much time as you need. Look so fucking good like this. Like a perfect dream for me.” His deep voice was as soothing as it was arousing and it gave her the strength she needed to settle herself down on top of him.

A garbled groaning sound cut off his words as she slipped his cock past her entrance. She carefully bobbed her hips up and down, easing him further and further into her heat with each shift of her hips. Her brows knitted together and her lips dropped open in a silent moan as she absorbed the delightfully painful stretch of him inside her again.

Mari could barely find the strength to move. He was huge , somehow feeling even bigger than earlier in this current position. With her every breath he shifted deeper into her and she whimpered as she finally felt him bottom out, her thighs splayed apart on either side of his toned waist. “S-so…big.” Her eyes rolled back and she bit her lower lip as her walls involuntarily contracted around him.

She was so much more sensitive this time. He speared into her so deep it was like he was rooted to her very core. She’d taken her fair share of sizes in her life. Nothing, nothing , felt like he did. The blood pumping him thick made him throb against her walls so strongly she could practically feel his pulse. His cock’s slight curve upward reached everywhere inside her that no other man ever had. He was perfect. He was made that way and he was hers. Right now, he was all hers.

Rex was desperately trying to pull himself together. Words weren’t finding his normally perfectly slick tongue and he looked wrecked with overcoming lust. His hands gripped her waist so hard she was sure she was already bruising and she didn’t care. She wanted to wear the way he held her for the rest of time if she could.

All of this overwhelming pleasure and she hadn’t even shifted a single bit yet. As she rose up and arched her back, the absence of him in the deepest depths of her cunt made tears prick in her eyes instantly. Almost immediately, she sat back down on him fully again. She moaned this time, loudly. The fullness making the heat in her belly feel so good she couldn’t help herself.

She lifted up again, this time finding a rhythm aided by his arms holding her up gingerly. The downright divine friction of his cock splitting her walls open repeatedly had her ravenous. The coiling in her belly furiously ignited the passionate flames of molten desire she’d only known since him. Over and over she rose and fell on top of him, riding his perfect, pounding cock as fast as she could handle.

Rex found his composure far sooner than she could, remembering his strength as her ever-tightening walls pushed his all too human instincts to kick in. He held her with both hands now, guiding her up and down the way he liked and carrying some of the weight to ensure she never tired. She was grateful for that because with how much strength it took her not to collapse immediately onto his chest, she needed the help.

“Rex. I…can’t stop…” she gasped, the rising heat making a sheen of sweat break out over her tan skin. The sounds of skin slapping skin filled her apartment, only broken by the groans and high-pitched whimpers leaving them both. “So deep. I love it just like this.” She reached for his hand and placed it on her breasts, begging him to touch her all over just to add to the pleasure.

“You’re fucking beautiful riding my cock. Such a good girl. Telling me how you like it, taking whatever you want from me. Use my cock. I want you to feel so good.” he urged, rolling her nipple between his fingers and groaning as her walls tightened around him in response.

“I feel…amazing. You’re so good, Rex. So…so good. Love how you fill me.” Mari cried out, grinding her hips down on top of him and watching his strength falter as he bottomed out inside her again. “Fill me better than anyone else, Rex. You’re perfect for me,” she admitted, throwing her head back and moaning loudly as he spanked her cheek playfully.

“I know I do. Want you to feel it all, mesh’la. I wanted to fuck you like this the second I met you. Fuck you so deep you forget everyone else. I wanted to make you mine.” he groaned, sitting up suddenly and wrapping his arm around her waist. Mari bucked her hips into him, the hairs around the base of him catching her clit perfectly and making her whine desperately in pleasure.

“I…I am yours. Fuck me like I’m yours, Rex. Only yours.” she begged, speeding up her hips and grabbing his face in her hands. She wanted to look him in the eye this time. She wanted to see his eyes as he took her away to bliss. The heat between them made their sweaty bodies frictionless and all Mari could do was chase her high against his lap.

Rex met her gaze with fiery determination, holding the hair at the nape of her neck and sharing his every breath with her as their thrusts met in unison. Asking him to make her his was all it took to blast his remaining composure to oblivion. His hips rocketed to life, snapping up to meet her bucking hips. Their volcanic climaxes rocketed toward each other with cataclysmic impact.

“Fuck, I’m…I’m cumming, Rex .” she moaned, looking into his eyes as her climax began to spread through her. She completely lost herself, resting forehead to forehead as the drag of his cock inside of fluttering walls made her vision white and overheated chills roll down her body from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Her every nerve was set alight with a powerful tingle that dissolved into stardust every time his cock buried into her core. Hot, thick, and tearing her apart, she felt the tension burst, her walls collapsing around him in torturous delight.

He growled, low and so resonant it vibrated in her chest, “You’re all mine, mesh’la. Only mine.” He pressed into her one final time, pausing there as his cock spasmed inside her grip and emptied full ribbons of himself inside her more times than she could count. With an outpouring of curses and the softest whimper of her name, he shuddered a few more times and collapsed on the bed behind them.

Mari pulled off him slowly and gently, sitting back on her palms and spreading her thighs open to let his spend drip out of her fluttering opening obscenely. She panted, moaning softly and smiling up at him as she watched the mess he made of her. “All yours.” she repeated, watching as he smirked up at her with tired satisfaction at his handiwork.

She fell back into bed, laying on her back as she enjoyed coming down from one of her best climaxes ever and by far the best sex she’d ever had. After finally catching her breath, she rolled over on her side, resting her head on Rex’s pillow and drowning herself in the growing comfort of his scent. His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her by the small of her back into his side tightly. His chest rose and fell steadily, the exertion barely making him winded at all.

His dark skin was covered in a sheen of sweat that somehow made him look more gorgeous than before. She rested her hand on his chest and traced patterns over his scars with her fingertips. It was hard for her to avoid the obvious question of how he’d gotten the newest one. Her gentle motions on his skin stopped as she wondered and Rex looked down at her quizzically.

“You ok?” he pondered, the back of his forefinger stroking the dip of her bare waist.

“How did it happen?” she muttered, gesturing to the scarred edges of the now-healed wound with her fingers.

He sighed, “Oh this? Well since it kept me from this for a week, I should tell you the story.” He chuckled dismissively, but stopped when he saw the look of concern on Mari’s face.

“Right. We were chasing General Grievous, he’s one of the leaders of the Separatist Droid Army,” he started explaining when Mari interrupted him.

“Oh I am well aware of who he is,” she said with disgust, rolling her eyes and nodding at him to continue.

“Yeah, so we had ‘em on the run. Their ship was crashing and we were so close to finding him on the planet Saleucami. Just as we were close to tracking them down on speeders, I took a hit to the chest. Probably a Commando droid. Knocked me off my speeder.” he shuddered just slightly enough for Mari to notice and she tightened her grip on his bicep protectively.

He looked down at the scar, breathing deeply once or twice to compose himself again. “Kix and Jesse found me. Took care of me. I wanted to keep going. But the blaster wound was pretty bad. I had to stay behind. Jesse and I came across a farm a few cliks west of us and decided we could ask for some rations, water, shelter or something. And uh well-” he blinked, his brows knitting together in confusion.

“Well what? You found something?” Mari asked, unable to hide her intrigue. He was actually a pretty good storyteller.

“The Farmer. He was a brother. A clone . Had his own land, crops, a home, a wife…kids..everything. All because he deserted the war. You know, clones can get brought in and court-martialed for that.” Rex explained, looking at Mari with an expression she couldn’t quite read this time.

“You can’t be serious. The GAR’s not going to imprison someone because they chose a different life for themselves. That’s insane.” Mari scoffed, sensing Rex himself may not have realized the lunacy of that being labeled a crime until recently.

“That’s the law, Mari. It’s what we’re taught to do in the event one of us runs away from duty. Report them and let the Kaminoans or someone do the rest. I was pretty close to doing so, until the droids came and attacked us.” he sighed, his hand on her waist balling into a fist instinctually.

“Separatist droids attacked a civilian homestead?” she asked in disbelief, thinking of at least seven republic treaties that kind of action violated. Not that the Separatists cared about any Republic laws.

“Yeah, guess the clankers figured we were a threat to Grievous. They saw two clones and just went for us. I didn’t have much range of motion, but I was healed enough to at least protect the family. I owed that to him for harboring me until I healed.” he stopped and looked out the window at the dark sky illuminated with artificial light. Mari watched his expression harden, his jaw tightening as he reminisced.

“So what happened?” Mari asked, gently squeezing his bicep to bring him back to her. He closed his eyes and tipped his head to rest on the top of hers.

“The droids stood no chance against a man and his family. Especially not two clones. His family was fine and I healed up enough to leave the atmosphere again. But after what he, Cut–his name was Cut–showed me…the loyalty to his family, that unending ferocity in battle, it was exactly like what we were raised to do. He was still doing his duty, but for him it was personal. In a way that it isn’t for the rest of us.” He drifted off, as if the action he didn’t take was still weighing on him in some way.

“You didn’t tell anyone about him…did you?” Mari figured, holding her breath as she pieced together what had been bothering him. The secret he kept for his brother could get them both in trouble and it was against everything he claimed he stood for. He didn’t follow protocol and it was haunting him.

“No. I couldn’t.” he muttered, the admittance so quiet she could practically feel his shame. “Everything I have ever been taught tells me I should have. And yet, in the moment, it didn’t feel right. Working under General Skywalker, I am no stranger to breaking rules. We do it all the time. But this time I’m been struggling with it and I don’t know why.”

Mari thought about it from Rex’s perspective. As a commanding officer, he had to show an unwavering commitment to the cause in order to lead his men. If he, or any clones in his position, began to show too much deviation from the rules that made their duty so effective then the consequences must be severe. Possibly even deadly.

In Mari’s political world, the first thing Padme and Bail ever taught her is that just because something is a rule or a law, doesn’t mean it’s morally or ethically correct. The clones' existence as a whole was riddled with moral ambiguity and to keep them in line it seemed that the structure of their entire military relied on denying them basic ethics for life forms.

Cut somehow had come to realize that as a life form with independent thought and will, he was deserving of the same basic freedoms that all other natborns in the galaxy are inherently given. Most clones might never come to that same conclusion and she could see that, for Rex, this realization was hitting him pretty hard.

“Because in this case, the right thing to do is to break that rule.” Mari answered after a long period of silence. “Just because the GAR has rules to keep its structure doesn’t mean they’re always right. Cut made a decision to give himself a choice in the life he decides to live. The same choice you all should have as sentient life forms.”

“And it bothers me because following the rules means denying him his independence. I know we’re supposed to be committed to the war, but I can’t in good conscience betray my brother’s wishes like that. I have a loyalty to them above everything else.” he shook his head, his heartbeat now pounding under Mari’s cheek.

“Is this the first time you’ve met a brother who felt he didn’t want to live a life of war?” Mari reached for his hand and laced her fingers between his. He kissed the back of her hand and rested their joined hands on his chest.

“No. I knew another. A brother who felt that joining the separatists would help free us, but that was more of a betrayal. This is different. Cut wants a life of peace with a wife and a family. I can’t say I disagree. We all want that deep down.” he stopped, his eyes locking with hers immediately as she turned to look at him.

Mari wanted to say something more, a funny little quip about that being the reason he’s in bed with her. But all the words died in her throat as she saw the way he looked at her. He explored her face, his eyes darting back and forth as he focused on one feature and the next. Almost like he was trying his hardest to draw her face into his memory. Speeder light and neon floating signs outside her window reflected in the enticing depth of his deep brown irises, sparking them with the same fire she lit his heart with.

There were no words to explain this feeling. She couldn’t come up with them if she tried. Neither could he. His actions tonight, his presence in her apartment, in her bed with her right now, said it all. Whatever he and Cut had discussed on Seelos, it made him think of her.

On some level, if all clones were thinking about their individual lives beyond war, he was imagining what a life might be like with her . Maybe he was thinking about being something besides a soldier for the first time ever. He certainly deserved to find something to hope for after all he’d fought for already. Yet, never in a million lightyears did Mari think that something would be her. It was too huge. It made her feel too important.

She should be terrified by that much expectation, even if it wasn’t being explicitly stated to her. She should be getting up and asking him to leave since the physical part of their night was over. She should be backing away from yet another hopeless romance with nothing but probable disappointment on their horizon.

Yet, she didn’t move from his hold on her. She didn’t even want to.

“Well I’m glad you have something to look forward to.” Mari managed to whisper softly, tightening her hold on his hand and closing her eyes to nuzzle into his chest.

As she drifted off to sleep surrounded by the comfort of him, she heard one last low, satisfied mumble from deep in his broad chest. “Me too, mesh’la. Me too.”

--

notes: hi :) I know it's been a while since I've updated any writing. 2024 was a very hard year for me, but finally with all that past me I hope to get back to writing again. thanks for being patient with me. it means so much to me. I hope you like it :)

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[mrkestis]

Jedi Apprentice: The Mark of the Crown - Jude Watson

A Star Wars Book Review

Summary:

The queen of the planet Gala is dying. Her last decree is to change the ruling system from a monarchy to a democracy, even if this robs her son, prince Beju, of the throne he has wanted all his life.

Jedi master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi have been sent to oversee the transition and make sure peace is kept, but their mission takes a turn when the queen reveals that prince Beju might not even be the rightful heir to the throne. A girl lives in the isolated mountain clan who might carry the mark of the crown.

Rating: 2⭐️

My thoughts (SPOILERS AHEAD!!!):

Barbie the princess and the pauper fans where you at? Unfortunately the mark of the crown wasn’t a crown shaped birthmark on Elan’s shoulder, but close enough!

This story was fine, but nothing special. I liked the planet, the species design and their culture, especially the mountain clan. They never appear again in other Star Wars content, which is a shame because i think they would’ve translated beautifully into visual media with their bejewelled aesthetic and their luminous ”moonlight” skin.

The talk about legacy is nice, but ultimately just surface level. I’m actually so emotional about Qui-Gon’s entire lineage all the way from Yoda to Sabine, and I would love for a Qui-Gon centric book to discuss that in depth. He never knew the impact he would have on the galaxy.

On this weeks episode of ”what more trauma can Obi-Wan go through” he almost freezes to death in a meat freezer, but more importantly he survives his first gay situationship. The author can’t make Obi-Wan describe Jono as beautiful and make them ”good friends” if she doesn’t want me to see the romantic undertones. We stan bisexual Obi-Wan Kenobi in this house.

We’re setting up for future books by having Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan have the exact same internal conflict but being too scared to communicate it with the other. Xanatos is also back, if only through Offworld funding a local politician in exchange for exploiting the planet’s resources. I’m hoping he makes an actual appearance in the next book.

The more I read in this series, the more I realise how much they have inspired the new canon books, especially Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray. This book being about a monarchy changing into a democracy and the heir being opposed to the idea sounds very familiar, and Offworld is just Czerka corporation. In Master and Apprentice Qui-Gon has a Mustafar fire dimond, and I wonder if that has any connection to the stone he gave Obi-Wan in this series.

[burnwater13]

Grogu looks on food is poured into a bowl for him. The Mandalorian, Din Djarin sits beside him (partially out of frame). The food appears to be a kind of seafood stew. A Mon Calamari worker is in the foreground operating the equipment that provides the stew. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 3, The Heiress.

Seen it all…

Grogu understood why Imp remnants hid in the worst possible places on the worst possible planets. They knew that they were being actively hunted by the New Republic and a certain Mandalorian with a Jedi apprentice proving that his ability to deal with the left overs of an ill conceived empire wasn’t a fluke. But he really wished that just once he’d find them sitting at an open air cafe on Coruscant so the people of the galaxy, who seemed convinced that these guys were gone, could see how they’d been walking among them ever since Darth Vader dispatched the Emperor. If they couldn’t see it, they didn’t believe it.

Right now he was sitting on the ‘comfortable’ part of a stone out cropping waiting for his dad to ‘take care of business’ and trying to ignore just how bad this planet smelled. It wasn’t covered with lava flows that allowed bubbles of sulfuric dioxide to burst into the air and make the air stink of rotten eggs, rotten plants, other critters actively rotting, and burnt out battery packs. But it still smelled like it was. Instead it was covered with all sorts of run down, falling down, partially closed, factories, warehouses, transportation terminals, and the infrastructure that had once supported a bustling and busy manufacturing hub. 

Where Grogu considered Coruscant to be a cross between a mech and a droid as a planet, this place, MRP-13, was more like the Armorer’s forge had been replicated a hundred thousand times, all over the surface of the planet. It was clear that the plan had been to use up all the surface level materials, turn them into whatever they was good for, and then just drop down to the next layer of the planet’s crust and do it all over again. It made Calodan seem warm and inviting.

The shops, forges, foundries, bar mills, what have you, just got closer and closer to each other, as did the people who had been forced to work there. It was an awful environment and specialty droids were too precious to waste on a planet like MRP-13. Ugnaughts, Gamorreans, Iktotchi, Wookiees and a dozen other non-humanoid species were not. They had been dumped there with just that in mind.  To waste their lives making something the Empire needed. Grogu was pretty sure it was because the Empire seemed to hate everyone who wasn’t human. It wasn’t hard to see, if you knew where to look or if you overheard the right conversations. He overheard a lot of conversations. 

He’d overheard the conversation that lead them all to come to MRP-13 to begin with. He and his dad had been getting a bite to eat in one of the cantina’s on Corellia. They hadn’t gone to the Cin Vhetin or Ki’s Place. Grogu didn’t know why, but he accepted his fate and went to a place that had almost nothing to recommend it. It was run down. Smelled weird. Not bad, just weird. The clientele looked like the sort of folks that they had dealt with on Arvala-7 and Nevarro and who liked to talk about the good old days, when pirates and smugglers didn’t have to whisper about their work. It had been the physical embodiment of trouble. 

Normally, his dad, Din Djarin, didn’t select places like that for a meal. He liked the folks at the Cin Vhetin just fine and Ki was a great friend to Grogu, making sure that his bone broth and noodle bowl was never empty and the fire stacks were plentiful. This place served a sort of meat stew that, when his dad asked what kind of meat it had,  the server commented it wasn’t anyone they knew, most likely. That had almost turned Grogu’s stomach, but he’d eaten a lot of things when he was hiding from the Empire that he willfully ignored because knowing might ruin his appetite. 

After a few mouthfuls Grogu realized that he could no longer trick his stomach into obeying certain orders. He asked his dad where the privies were and the server pointed vaguely at door in the back of the building. Grogu chirped a thank you and raced off. He really didn’t want to get sick in that cantina, mostly fearing that they would ‘clean’ it up by serving it to someone else there. No one deserved that treatment. No one.

Grogu zipped through the door as a two humans walked through it, he guessed they were going to the same place, and just managed not to get stepped on by them. He would said something to them but he didn’t want to draw more attention to himself. He found a  sheltered spot behind a trash can and just emptied his stomach onto the ground. He looked around and saw that he was in an alley behind the cantina and not a privy at all. Whatever. He felt better and just needed to go back into the cantina and see if his dad was ready to leave the place. It seemed like the Mandalorian was waiting for someone to show up, but Grogu wasn’t certain about that. 

He was just about to use the Force to open the door he’d managed to exit through when he heard the two humans he’d exited with chatting. It almost seemed like they were speaking in code and that’s when Grogu realized he’d heard chatter like that before. It was just like being on Moff Gideon’s ship. The two humans were calling each other by their stormtrooper names! 

Instead of returning to his dad, Grogu pulled out his comp and hit ‘record’ and stayed there until the two men stopped talking because some critter had come barreling down the alley, sending scurriers, rats, and a zoological park’s worth of bugs flying in all directions. As soon as the wave of critters hit their legs, the humans started shouting and ran to the door and Grogu took that opportunity to re-enter the cantina, while the two humans were still shaking bugs off their clothes. 

Grogu had been inadvertently kicked a few times, but on the plus side, he’d also managed to snag some of the bugs. He ate them without thinking and felt much better. That was a nice surprise. 

He had rushed over to his dad and explained what happened and Din Djarin had clapped him on the shoulder and told him they could leave. Grogu had been thrilled! Apparently this was the information the Mandalorian had hoped to collect through some alternate method. Now they could leave and go some place and get a real meal. Yippee!

Grogu reflected that if he had known then, what he knew now, he might have simply walked around to the front of the cantina and insisted that they leave. He hadn’t thought a place could be worse than that alley way. He’d been so many crummy places but that alley was just the worst. Now he knew that he had no idea how bad a place could be when people were determined to be awful and he almost missed that alley way now. Almost. If he ever had to hide again, he was going to hide on Naboo or Degobah or even Cantonica. If he had to hide, he wanted to hide in comfort, not in misery. It wouldn’t make any difference to the bounty hunters they tried to send after him. They had seen it all. 

[zorya-reads]

Ninth House & Hell Bent: Thoughts & Book Review

Alex Stern Series by Leigh Bardugo

★★★★☆ 

To start: this is the first book review I've ever written. Previously, I tended to write in bullet points, so please consider this a textualisation of such points organised into paragraphs. While I still agree with the ideas I presented, I have reflected on my writing style, which I now find rather unsatisfactory.

(1200 words)

The first time I eagerly grabbed my English copy of Ninth House, I thought I was signing up for a “i’m just a girl”-Alina-Starkov-Story. I mean, our protagonist is named "Galaxy" after all! Nomen est omen. If that doesn’t scream YA Mary Sue, I don’t know what does! Nothing can go wrong there, right? Right?

Synopsis of Ninth House: Meet Alex Stern, a Yale freshman with a rare gift: She can see ghosts, “Greys”. Recruited to Lethe—the "Ninth House" that oversees the university’s eight secret societies using arcane magic. When a local girl is murdered, Alex suspects a hidden, magical conspiracy linked to these secret societies. With her mentor, Darlington, mysteriously vanished, Alex, haunted by a violent past, is left to navigate the dangers alone. Yet despite warnings, she decides to investigate. Cue ghosts, academic elitism, and a buffet of trauma.

Synopsis of Hell Bent: Strap in for three epic literary trips to hell! (I wish I were lying.)

The book starts off slowly, but the dual narrative—Alex in winter and Darlington in fall—anchors the story beautifully. Darlington’s perspective adds crucial momentum, helping me push through the slow-paced, sluggish beginning. I loved how their timelines intertwined and allowed us to get to know Darlington.

Leigh Bardugo has a knack for making her readers feel intellectual. This duology references existing(!) alchemical themes (e.g the serpent imagery and Alex as a wheelwalker), alongside rich literary and mythological references. The Bible makes several appearances (Isaiah 16:3, Corinthians 15:52, Proverbs 22:29, under the King James Version; Before the question arises: No, I’m not religious.) – Even when Alex remarks on their local choir singing a Johnny Cash song, it ties back to a biblical context („We are the shepherds […]“ being one of the first official carols, as it was once the only Christmas hymn allowed by the Anglican Church).

And that’s just scratching the surface. There are countless references, most notably Idylls of the King (1859) for Ninth House and Dante’s Inferno for Hell Bent, which are actually plot-relevant, if that’s what you'd call a gimmick. And we haven’t even begun with all the Latin Texts lore they keep throwing in. Bardugo, who herself studied on the very grounds Alex walks on, really packed every single detail into this book. In fact, she first became inspired upon discovering the tombs of Yale's secret societies while strolling down New Haven's Grove Street during her freshman year. The level of research is truly remarkable!

I loved this so much—it highlights the pretentiousness of that world, where characters constantly quote Shakespeare and toss around Latin phrases. An intellectual window-dressing Darlington (Everyone loves Darlington. You will love Darlington.) could only be believable on the streets once trodden by great men. It’s this very detail that made the setting authentic: The setting that will play the stage for Bardugo‘s critique on privilege and how wealthy, entitled individuals perpetuate cycles of abuse.

Her writing style complements this, too. I was intrigued by the fictional ‘primary sources’ that appeared at the end of each chapter. As someone unable to visualise scenes while reading, this touch effectively immersed me in the story's aesthetic. However, Bardugo's tendency toward detailed exposition often messes with the pacing. The slow build and lack of major plot movement really drag things down, with much of the story feeling repetitive across its 500 pages (Book 1). I kept waiting for the pace to pick up, but while the back-and-forth structure eventually adds depth as secrets are revealed, it just didn’t feel like enough to make up for it.

When action finally unfolds, Bardugo occasionally goes overboard with the dramatic horror, and the violence feels excessive. For anyone considering a read, I’ll list the triggers below.

Ninth House tackles significant trauma, but the impact of such experiences isn’t explored in a meaningful way—The biggest issue for me is how it sidesteps its core themes. At times, Bardugo hints at making a profound statement about privilege and power—whether mystical, emotional, or institutional. But she never fully goes there, and it feels like a missed opportunity. For example, we often get the chance to experience flashbacks from Alex. Did those details actually develop the characters? Not really. Alex Stern, despite being a trauma survivor, still came across as pretty vanilla.

Ninth House is much worse in this regard than Hell Bent, which becomes noticeably tamer, likely in response to the backlash and criticism the first book received for this issue. While the intensity does dial down, it feels more like a plot device, which ultimately undermines the really intriguing predicament Bardugo set up at the end of Hell Bent. (Yes, it was iconic, but also quite anticlimactic.)

There's a trend I've noticed: authors often feel at ease writing graphic rape scenes repeatedly, yet shy away from depicting consensual sexual moments. While I'm not particularly keen on either, it certainly leaves a sour taste in my mouth. Take Darlington, for instance—here’s yet another male love interest who’s continuously battling with his suppressed desires, and how bad they are and bla bla bla. It’s just the same old song and dance.

Now, is this book right for you?

If you’re drawn to dark academia, mythology, and a reference-heavy world, you might like Ninth House. It reads like YA with adult themes, but often treats those themes more as setting than substance. For context, I’m 17. I bought the book expecting the author of Six of Crows, which clearly wasn’t the case. I mentioned in a post while reading the first quarter that the Internet describes a book I wouldn’t want to read. Had I seen the trigger list upfront, I wouldn't have bought it in the first place.

Yet, in retrospect, Hell Bent somehow managed to become a comfort book for me. Granted, it comes with quite a criminal list of triggers, but the exploration of emotional depth is shallow. (Basically, imagine a quirky 13-year-old writing mafia romances on Wattpad—it wouldn’t feel traumatic, right? That’s pretty much how I view Bardugo’s characters, all of whom seem to wear the label of murderers across her works.) It ultimately comes down to whether one can handle those elements or not. De gustibus non est disputandum. — But seriously, I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone underage.

Triggers for Ninth House (Book 1)

Drug use, overdosing, murder, death, loss of a loved one, rituals, gore, PTSD depiction, grief depiction, self-harm, bloodletting, rape, child (12) rape (it is only two pages, but it is very graphic), statutory rape (15), sexual assault, forced sexual assault on video, talk of suicide, blackmail, physical abuse, a magical date rape drug, forced eating of human waste (to a rapist), and racism (always in a negative light).

Triggers compiled by @meltotheany :: [LINK]

Also, I drew inspiration from @inafictionalworld for the format. I really love your concise reviews, which motivated me to blog about them as well with all my future reads! But it seems my brain doesn't understand the meaning of 'short' lol.

[dilf-din]

Neptune (Until My Last Breath)

A Rebelcaptain May the Fourth celebration fic

WC: 3050

Warnings: angst and whump, ambiguous ending

Author’s Note: HELLO AND MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH US. I started working on this last week and thought it would be fun to post today in honor of my favorite characters of all time. Sorry I’ve been straying away from my fluff reputation?? Oops?

Read on AO3

Jyn always thought she would die in space, or at least with the stars in view. A clear night sky above her as she bled out, as her particles melded with the earth and the atmosphere, stardust returning to stardust. She would exhale, and her spirit would be carried away on the wind, stirring through the galaxy, inciting rebellion and bravery in the hearts of other little girls out there hoping for their someday to come. Jyn Erso, the patron saint of defying fate.

Or maybe just defiance.

She always thought she would be free one day. Right now, she felt like a porg caught in a trap. The thought of chewing off her leg crossed her mind almost immediately once reality set in. She could press the cool steel of her blaster to her head and be gone in an instant, but she couldn’t abandon Cassian. She wouldn’t.

There were so many warning signs she ignored that she couldn’t help but blame herself for their current situation. The instrument panel in her mind had been screaming at her for days now, lights flashing and pounding against the back of her eyelids. Had she listened to the churning in her gut before climbing into that death trap, had she spoken up about her inkling that they had received corrupted intel before the hatch was sealed, had she just asked Cassian to turn back before they went plunging into murky water and winding caverns. He would’ve listened, taken her at her word. He always did.

Now they were stuck. Wedged quite literally between a rock and a hard place hundreds of meters below depth. They had lost communication with K2 who was stationed above them on the surface well over an hour ago, their comms nothing but low, smooth static.

K2’s warning that communication was about to drop out hadn’t done much to settle the turmoil in the pit of Jyn’s belly.

“It’s normal,” Cassian explained, taking note of the whites of her knuckles peeking out of the cut outs of her gloves where she was death gripping the leather arm of her seat. “Once we make it under this ridge and back up, we’ll be back in communication,” he assured.

Jyn wanted to trust him. She closed her eyes and swallowed. There wasn’t much to see but the inky black walls of the caverns Cassian was carefully navigating. Thats what she told herself, anyway. There were no tentacled creatures looming above them. There were no sets of glowing eyes waiting for someone stupid enough to venture past and sink their hungry teeth into soft flesh. The more she repeated this, the more she believed it, never one to be afraid of monsters.

She inhaled and exhaled in time with a pressurizer in the cabin as it adjusted their oxygen levels, keeping their lungs full and their bodies whole.

A few more hours would pass in no time.

It wasn’t often she had a perfectly quiet environment to rest in, and found herself nodding off, chin tucked into the collar of her jacket and cheek resting against her shoulder.

The first shrill sound of metal screaming and scraping would be etched in her mind for the rest of the life, however much longer that was. It cut through the heavy silence of the air, and she was flung her from her seat as the craft lurched forward.

Jyn caught herself with flat palms, stinging from the impact.

“What was that?” she asked with as steady of a voice as she could muster.

Cassian cursed.

“It’s too narrow through here. I don’t want to risk it. We’re gonna have to go back.”

The coolness of his tone and sureness of his movements soothed her nerves. She watched as his hands moved swiftly to turn their craft into reverse and begin their journey back to the surface. The disgraced imperial officer that may or may not be holed up in a cave at the end of this wasn’t worth their lives.

The engine pulsed through the entire ship as the thrusters reversed to propel them backwards, but within a few seconds, they were met with the same sickening sound of stone against the metal.

Cassian pulled back on the controls immediately, leaving them stationary before the jutting rock formation ripped the hull in half.

They both stared ahead, Cassian to avoid Jyn’s gaze, and Jyn to try to ground herself in this moment.

A new flood of fears washed over her. Her body felt as if it was getting crushed beneath the weight of the pressure around them, held at bay by nothing but a thin wall. Her breath started coming quick and shallow, the way it did when she sat at the bottom of the hatch on Lah’mu, eyes straining to get accustomed to the darkness, not knowing it would follow her for the rest of her life.

Cassian scrambled for a solution, racking his brain for a way out. Jyn’s panicked breathing permeated his concentration, preventing any coherent thoughts from forming. She had never been scared before, not really. She was only here because of him, because of intel he sought out and felt strongly enough was worth following, but not into death.

His kill count was something he didn’t even want to theorize about at night. He made peace with most of them, he could live with the blood of hundreds on his hands, but not Jyn’s blood. It was never supposed to be hers.

Obviously they couldn’t leave the ship, not at this depth. And the comms were down, so there was no way to send a distress signal. The reverse thrusters were just sending them straight into the obstruction… They were stuck. They were stuck, and they were going to run out of oxygen unless K2 came after them in the rescue craft, which was almost twice the size of this one and might not even be able to make it through the narrow tunnels.

There were too many variables outside of his control causing Cassian to spiral. Most little hiccups on a mission he could get through, but something of this caliber with this level of consequence always made him second guess himself, his status as captain, and whether or not he was fit to be a partner to someone like Jyn. Fierce in combat, cool under pressure, a survivor like no other.

He had been so careful. He had always trusted his instincts and his training equally, and couldn’t quite parse where he went wrong this time. Cassian buried his head in his hands, wishing someone would come from behind him and beat some sense into his thick skull, grab him by the shoulders and center his composure once again. He was no good to either of them in this state.

Jyn choked out a dry sob bringing him back to himself. He craved atonement for his foolishness, vowing to bleed himself dry for the woman he loved if that’s what it took to get her out of this alive.

With a click, he released his seatbelt and slid across the cold floor next to her.

“Jyn,” he breathed softly, “Talk to me,” he coaxed as he unwound her limbs from around her crumpled frame and drew her into his own embrace.

She had been able to feign composure until the reality of being trapped really set in. Combat didn’t phase her, the crunching of bones and flesh being burned by blaster fire had been the background noise to her life from far too early on. At the end of the day, the only thing that ever hung over her head was the thought of being truly alone in the galaxy. The looming darkness that made her tremble as a child was the same darkness curling itself around her right now, peering in through the window and licking its chops each time it thought it had her. All the times she had almost let her strength fail her, the beautiful temptation of running into her mother’s arms again was like a siren song over the noise of every battle she found herself in. She could stop resisting, let fate take her. But that wasn’t her. And as badly as she wanted to be home again, she wanted to be true to who they raised her to be, who Saw raised her to be.

But this didn’t feel right either, like getting backed into a corner. Her long overdue portion of bad luck finally catching up to her after all her narrow escapes. A few times, she had come close enough to brush fingertips with her father before getting pulled back to this life, always being dragged away too soon like a calf that wasn’t properly weaned. Her hungry mouth open to the cruelty of the universe.

Cassian’s warmth was the only thing she could depend on when you stripped her bare. Each time she coughed up blood and bile from the beatings she sustained, he was never far. Always faithful to wrap himself around her and lick her wounds. It was the closest she would ever come to really being known. Being pressed to him now made a fresh lump rise in her throat, the same feeling as standing in your childhood bedroom for the last time. She vowed to memorize every detail in this dim light, for his form to be etched into her fingerprints whenever they found their bodies.

“You don’t have to bullshit me. I know we’re not getting out of here,” she said quietly.

Cassian tensed under her admission.

“Kay could get here in time,” he squirmed to readjust and move her cheek off of his collarbone.

She decided not to extinguish his hope, one of her favorite things about him.

She knew he was lying.

He knew she knew.

“It’s just weird to not be able to see the stars,” she admitted softly, letting out a shaky exhale.

Cass nodded and pressed his nose into her temple.

“How much oxygen do we have in here?”

He had done the calculations a hundred times over, swallowed hard.

“About ten more hours, plus whatever is in the suits.”

Jyn nodded imperceptibly and couldn’t tell if it was her imagination or if there was a really faint clock ticking in the background. Maybe it was his heartbeat beneath her ear. Maybe somewhere deep inside she had always known they were a ticking time bomb.

“We might as well get comfy,” Cassian strained as he reached for the emergency blankets stowed to the left of the captain’s chair. The pair worked together to make a makeshift bed roll and stretched out together, reveling in the shared warmth. Underwater and space had one thing in common: they were both cold.

Jyn laid with her head on Cassian’s chest, close enough that the sounds of his breath and the low rumble of his voice beneath her dominated her senses. The sounds of the sub became distant background noise as she gave all of her attention to him.

Cassian’s right arm was wrapped around her, draped firmly over her hip while his left hand toyed with her fingers. He had gently pulled her gloves off and laid them to the side, wanting to feel her smooth skin unobstructed. Their hands laced together then broke apart. His pointer finger dragged across every millimeter, feeling every vein and bone, every wrinkle of her. Sometimes, he let the very tips of his nails ghost over the surface, sending chills through her body. Jyn nuzzled closer into the scent of him, bright and sharp as it ever was. Clean notes of citrus that overpowered the stale metal they often found themselves surrounded by. It was the easiest way to pick him out of a crowd. She smiled sadly to herself as she toyed with the zipper of his jacket, thinking how beautiful it was to know someone so effortlessly.

“Tell me about a time you were happy,” Cassian’s voice came warmly, a welcome interruption to the mechanical symphony of the ship she had been trying to tune out.

Without hesitation, Jyn responded, “When I was younger, my father and I used to hike and watch the volcanoes erupt on Lah’mu. He had some sort of device that tracked the seismic activity, so we would always take the day, just us two. My mother would pack us sandwiches and stay back to watch the farm,” she trailed off and a faraway smile graced her lips.

She continued with an even more dreamlike quality to her voice, “I’ll never forget the first time I saw one. It’s so much more red than you can ever imagine. Just the purest shade of red. It would trickle down black mountains and turn everything in a neon mosaic.”

Cassian’s heart swelled as he listened to her recount the memories she had of her father. The way she came alive when she spoke of the kind of man he was. He always wondered if Galen would have approved of him. Some small part of him would always ache for that affirmation, to know that those who loved Jyn so deeply saw something worthy in him.

Another wave of guilt washed over him, and his limbs were suddenly twenty kilos heavier. A good man wouldn’t have gotten their daughter killed. An honorable partner wouldn’t have ever put her in a situation that would’ve risked her life. That’s all Cassian had done since they had met, is risk his life and hers.

Jyn felt him tense beneath her, the way his heart rate quickened, and propped herself up to face him.

“Is something wrong? I mean aside from the obvious?”

She always tried to find humor in their peril, admiring the way her father could make her laugh when she was afraid. When their family would squeeze into one of their scattered bunkers in a practice drill should the imperials ever find them, Galen never failed to make her giggle with a poke to the ribs or a bad pun. Jyn would wrinkle her nose at him. Lyra would give a soft smile.

Right now she wanted Cassian to be anything but afraid.

“I’m sorry,” his voice wavered.

“Cassian,” she chastised.

“Jyn, please,” his eyes bore into hers, in pain and with pleading he begged her to hear him out.

“We don’t have to do this now,” she whispered.

“If not now then when?” he exclaimed.

Jyn crept forward and pressed her lips to his in a kiss, cradling his face. She swung one leg over his own to straddle him. He kissed her hungrily and with tears streaming down his cheeks.

She pressed her forehead to his and nuzzled her nose against his.

“I always knew I would die by your side, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he smiled through the tears she had only seen him cry one other time, Scarif. Those tears were exhausted and bitter and full of hatred for the Empire, completely robbed of any sense of pride as they were lifted away from the scorched ground and the corpses of their friends.

These tears were full of love, the overwhelm of what he felt for her spilling to the surface.

“You’re so beautiful, even in this light,” his hand cradled her cheek.

“You’re running out of oxygen,” she murmured, casting her eyes to the floor, uncomfortable with the attention even after all the years spent beside him.

Cassian laughed softly, the kind that said “I love you” in the cadence of it, and Jyn thought there were certainly worse ways to meet your end than this.

——

The hours passed far too quickly and excruciatingly slowly at the same time. Each minute brought them closer to a final goodbye.

The air in the cabin was quite thin by this point, leaving the pair panting and feeling lightheaded as they tried to count to ten before drawing each breath.

Cassian had never been the praying kind, but tonight, he prayed that Kay was careening towards them at much too high a speed. He prayed that they would get dragged to the surface before they were nothing but casualties in a war that never seemed to end. He prayed that Jyn would go first and go quickly.

With great struggle, he lifted the only oxygen tank off the wall and dragged it to the bed they had made. His fingers were clumsy as he fiddled with the valve and made sure it was connected to the mouthpiece with no holes in the hose.

Cassian was winded from such a small task. Jyn offered him the mouthpiece to draw the first full breath into his screaming lungs and light head. He closed his eyes at the fleeting relief, his finger tapping on her thigh to count out ten seconds. Their words had been mostly spent at this point, choosing to conserve as much oxygen as they could in the hopes that K2 would be there soon.

On ten, Jyn took her first full breath in hours, she could feel her cells swimming with joy, rushing around to bring the tired parts of her back to life. She had no idea how long this tank would last between the two of them. She was tired from racing the clock, having spent the last part of the evening becoming acquainted with the idea that they wouldn’t make it out of this.

“Jyn?” she swore she heard her mother calling, craned her neck to see Cassian looking down at her. The whites of his eyes shone like the shard of kyber at her breast, guiding her home.

“I love you, Captain,” she slurred, taking the chance to poke at her affectionate nickname for him one final time. She wanted it to be one of the last things he heard as they passed from this life to the next.

Cassian weakly squeezed her in reciprocation.

The tank quickly drained. It was never intended to fill two sets of lungs.

When Cassian offered her the mouthpiece as it was nearing empty, she shook her head, and it pounded with every motion.

“It’s s’pretty, Cass.”

“Wha-what’s pretty?” he strained to stammer out.

“I see so many stars,” she smiled with tears glimmering in her eyes.

[komohine]

I’M NOT SURE IF YOU ANSWERED THIS BEFORE, but what are keith’s and jame’s love languages?(ex. words of affirmation, physical touch, etc.)

Hmm I’ve thought a lot about this and lowkey i have a hard time identifying it

Keith is definitely acts of service. I mentioned this before but if you view him joining voltron and becoming a paladin as, among other things, his greatest act of service to james, the show becomes a lot angstier. Because he has no attachment to earth. He recognizes logically that he should because earth is home to billions of people and also that the galaxy has insurmountably more, and that he should to protect them, but beneath that he wanted desperately to protect earth so that james at least has a shot at living a good, long life. A happy life. And its even angstier when you consider that prior to this Keith left James at the garrison without even telling him he was expelled let alone where he was going. And he never reached out because he knew the way he left hurt james deeply and he felt he didnt deserve to reach out. So beyond being an act of service, its almost like keith was atoning for his wrongs, for all the times he’s hurt james (a bit of an overkill atonement in my opinion but yk)

James is definitely quality time. And he’s rich so gift giving is also big, but its primarily quality time. Especially considering his life was filled with people who refused to spend time with him, or people who only hung around for surface level reasons. He and keith started out with him following keith into dumb situations and getting him out of trouble. It was coincidental at first, but then james started actively following him, and then they started hanging out when keith wasn’t breaking garrison rules, and then it was actually james suggesting rule breaking adventures. Keiths absence was rough on james for all sorts of reasons. Obviously. But one of the biggest things was that he lost the one person who knew him best. Yes he had actual, non surface level friends at that point, but nothing compared to the nights where keith would come to his dorm already dressed asking to sneak off base to go to their secret stargazing tree together.