#I care her your honor

[merrigel]

✨Mirabelle✨ Handmaiden, Chosen One

[lepusrufus]

Quick lil' angry Kiriko plus some messing around with lighting

[tiredassmage]

WIP(?) Wednesday

Does it still count if it’s an idea I unleashed in one sitting because I was FINALLY freed? xD @sullustangin​ tagged me last week, I think, and at the time, I didn’t have anything new to share that I hadn’t already, but I think we’re finally FREE of finals!!!!! And I could not get the last part of the Tatooine agent story relating to Tyr out of my head ALL day, it’s the only way I coped, lmao.

So!!! Please enjoy a short... well, it’s not exactly fluffy. But it kinda makes me soft? (alternatively, read it on ao3)

Mia Hawkins parts ways with Cipher Nine after defeating the Ghost Cell.

No warnings for this one. ^.^

“So.., how does this go now? The cell is gone, but we’re both here. And I’m in no shape to fight.” She didn’t want to fight. Not him.

The agent considered her for a moment with imperceptible cool eyes and the faintest curve of a frown at the corner of his mouth. She still didn’t have his name - not even what he’d answer to in Intelligence. More the fool her, Mia supposed. He’d been the one that had conditioned they trade no names, but she’d given him hers.

She didn’t really know anything about him, did she? The Old Man may have claimed the cell had learned his ways, but she’d seen the Imperial Cipher swap masks faster than she could blink. To lay their trap, he had been almost cocky and arrogant. He hadn’t minced words at the cantina and his resulting departure on speeder would’ve almost woken the dead, she reckoned. There’d been a bravado, an untouchable swagger full of confidence that whatever the cell had in store, Intelligence could’ve done better. He could do better.

“Say I asked you,” he said. “What would you want to do?”

Mia blinked and wrung her hands together as her eyes dropped to the sand. There had also been the calculating agent that had kept stride with her at every step of her plan. He was adaptable, open to suggestions, and efficient when he finally committed.

And there was the agent that had promised her no harm would come to her on his watch. It felt a little foolish to want to believe him. In a smirk and narrowed-eyed assessment of his surroundings, he had sold her on the untouchable Imperial agent and, almost as easily, a gentle voice and perceptive inquiry about her status had eased her. A part of her wanted to scold herself. This was all a familiar game. She had no reason to trust him - whoever he really was.

“Honestly?” She scuffed a boot through the sand. “All I want is my freedom.” Whatever sense of belonging she’d ever had here had fallen through. Evidently, she’d maybe never had the kind of grasp on this whole thing that the cell did.

Whether or not everything the Old Man had said was true, it didn’t much change how it’d felt to hear it.

Mia shook her head and folded her arms across her chest. “But you’re an Intelligence agent,” she said. She squeezed her arms around herself. Her voice still wavered, no matter how firm she tried to forge it. “You won’t give me that, I know. I know it was never…” She closed her eyes tightly. It’d been the lesser of two evils, she’d been trying to convince herself. It was easier to live with that she’d done something, even if she didn’t get to live with it very long.

The alternative would have been… running? Alone? Either way, living with letting it continue.

The agent rolled his jaw and stared out over the desert for a long moment as his hands settled on his hips. Something would probably bruise, soreness would set in for trading the established advantage of a distanced firefight for a close look at the enemy, to trip them up along the knife’s blade and…

Whatever else she’d been, she was scared. Maybe barely old enough for any of this. Certainly too young when she’d started, likely.

Watchers and Academy instructors would’ve likely called it foolish. At the heart of the enemy whose specializations were hardly unlike his own, and he was about to take her on her word? He had?

More than that, he’d suffered Kaliyo’s stare as he prepared for this possibility in the back room of a seedy cantina on the edge of the desert over some piss excuse for drinks.

“No,” Nine said finally. Mia looked up as he pulled something from his jacket and offered it to her. “I can’t offer you that, Mia. But I can offer you the chance.” In his extended hand was a credit chip. He nodded to encourage her to take it. “I ran some of the numbers after you left your recording. This should be enough to get you a flight of your choice off this dustball.”

No. Mia hesitantly took the chip. She turned it over in her hands. “Agent, I…”

“It’s not going to be easy, Mia,” he said. “We’ve beheaded the serpent, maybe put most of them out of business here, but…” He shook his head. “I don’t have to tell you how this works. And I can’t tell you what ‘freedom’ is going to look like. You’ll have to figure that one out yourself.”

“You’re serious?”

Nine smiled in the way smoke rose from a campfire - faintly, almost spectral and drifting. “We don’t all get this choice. I wish you luck in making the most of it.”

“You really mean this then? You’re letting me go?”

“We’ve never met. The Ghost Cell is no longer a threat. And that,” he indicated the credit chip, “is all written off for missions supplies locally. I can trail you as far as the spaceport, but we probably shouldn’t be seen leaving together again. You’ve got a new life, a new cover, to forge.”

Mia gripped the chip tighter. There was a lingering chance it could still be a play. Maybe she’d make it back to Mos Ila only for him to hand over responsibility to some lesser troops or an Intelligence ambush. Given everything he knew now, it’d be easy enough…

Mia stowed his offering and chewed on her lip. She reached for his hands - half-surprised when he let her take them both. A part of her just needed to confirm he was even real.

“I guess this is goodbye, agent.”

His hands squeezed carefully around hers. “For the best,” he said.

She nodded. Of course. “I still don’t even know what to call you,” she said with a breath of laughter. She didn’t need to - didn’t want to; as he’d said, it’d be too much of a risk. “But I won’t forget this. You.” Her teeth dug into her lower lip one more time before she leaned up and quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Heat flushed her own almost instantly, but she squeezed his hands back. He hadn’t pulled away. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d almost believe she saw another flicker of that faint smile - as elusive as a mirage. “I can make it back well enough on my own, agent. You just… take care of yourself, alright?”

Mia Hawkins pried herself away before she could wallow in any more regrets and trekked back across the sands with Cipher Nine’s eyes on her back until she cleared the camp and disappeared beyond the walls.

His eyes narrowed as Kaliyo plucked herself from where she’d taken to leaning against one of the camp walls. “Stow it, Kaliyo,” he warned.

The Rattatak snorted. “I don’t want to know, and I’m not going to ask. Let’s just not tell your bosses.”

Tyr rolled his jaw, eyes fixed on the walls. “She helped us,” he said. “She was scared. That’s no reason to kill her.”

Kaliyo groaned and shook her head. “Whatever, I said I wasn’t asking. Keep that sappy bantha fodder to yourself. I don’t want to catch it.”

Amusement quirked the Cipher’s lips. “C’mon then. Mission complete. We have reports to file.”

“Charming,” Kaliyo muttered. “You have reports, loverboy. I’m raiding the lounge again for some proper liquor.”

[imnotamarysue]

i was thinking about wanting to put harrow in a jar and then shake that jar and see what happens but then i realized that's exactly and exclusively what happens in the entirety of the locked tomb

oooh look at my little sad gremlin *shakes the jar* i wonder how much she can take

[rosieofcorona]

This Place Wants Us Dead (2024)

Prints

[beif0ngs]

Nico Robin strikes again 💀🩸

[transjudas]

Taking a big space truck with a bunch of strangers across a diamond planet called Midnight? What could possibly go wrong?

[nalyra-dreaming]

I LOVE TO READ IT!!

[thankstothe]

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

[artaintfartwarriors]

[sukibenders]

Being a woc fan of Bridgerton can be a struggle, especially when it comes to liking the poc characters on the show, especially the woc. Like I remember when s1 came out and the blatant microaggressions and just plain racism coming from this fandom was atrocious. You had people spewing very hateful things about Charlotte, Marina, and Simon and undermining the latter two's pain and trauma at the hands of the white characters---Marina was treated terribly by the Featheringtons and, whether you like Penelope or not, you cannot deny that she also played a part by releasing that letter to the Ton and Simon was violated Daphne no matter how people try to spin the story to offer her some form of sympathy (it still blows my mind that people would want to though).

S2 is just as bad (not even including how they changed the Sharma family's storyline than how it was in the books when that wasn't necessary) and the racist undertones many of the fans have towards Mary and Edwina (as well as Kate but for her it's carries more brown woman needing to be saved by a white man when Anthony is involved because a lot of you all in the fandom are quick to use this trope such as "oh, he's the only one who truly knows her"). The lack of screen time for this family really ends up hurting them to but even with that, whether you like Mary and Edwina or not, it would be a lie to deny the racism a lot in the fandom hold towards them (and how that falls onto the actresses because it was very apparent how many in the fandom couldn't let two Desi women shine without having to bring down the other and Netflix played into that too for drama) and paints every small thing they do as being terrible crimes but in the same breath will not have the same smoke for the Bridgertons, who have their own set of problems (but because they are also the main family, among other things, they are provided more grace without consequences).

[couchtaro]

Amastacia is a chosen-by-destiny child celebrity with international fame and canonical merchandise, I had to give her the tabloid cover she deserves

[becabeale143]

Don’t you dare take out those ear monstrosities 🌹🔥

[goosemagician]

A few Anti-Hero AU doodlies of Hero and RGB after they fail to save the world, the first time RGB gets Hero to smile/laugh after the fact, and some soft sleepy healing buckos to make up for it <3 (in that order)

Bonus piece of writing (poetry? Kinda?) under the cut! (It's also on AO3 as well)

The sickly white light that streamed through the window cast the room in harsh light and sharp shadows.

They kept the curtains closed. 

There was something different about the grief that split Hero’s chest open and threatened to tear her apart–the guilt that stirred and burned in her stomach like a hot coal begging to be doused. A great big hole had opened up inside of her and swallowed up everything that made her her. 

There was something different about the way RGB held her–the way he would see her shaking, picking at her hands, or chewing on her lip to try to abate the burning in her eyes and the lump in her throat. He would guide her hands apart, or ease her lip out from between her teeth, or rest his hands gently on her shoulders, then fold her into his arms and hold her until the hole inside of her stopped being so hungry or the coal stopped sizzling in her stomach. 

There was something different to his words. He no longer talked as often, or as loud, because Hero heard the colors dripping down the front of his screen. The cyan that perpetually flowed freely, and the yellow that followed it. But, amidst the sadness and fear, the grief and guilt and anguish she knew he felt just as deeply as she did, she could see green, plain as day when he turned his screen to her and smiled with wobbly test bars and heavy shoulders. 

When he spoke, it was quiet. Soft. 

“There, there,” he said one night while Hero failed to remember how to breathe. “I’ve got you, my love. I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

When Hero would reach for his cane, he offered his hand instead. 

He was so gentle. 

Everything outside had been sliced apart and bled out until nothing remained. Outside was brutal, and sick, and dead. 

But inside, with the curtains closed, she was held on the bottom bunk of her bed, wrapped up in her blankets in RGB’s lap. His chest was warm where she leaned into it, looking at the book he read from in one hand while the other smoothed across the top of her head. 

His voice was deep, and smooth, and very nearly succeeded at putting her to sleep. 

Sometimes his voice would shake. She would ask if he was okay, and he would pause before tilting his head, dripping green and cyan, and he would ruffle her hair without answering. 

Sometimes he would jolt awake in the small hours of the night, just like she would. His screen would leak until his lap was full of liquid color. Hero would find him on the bottom bunk, screen in his trembling hands, and she would crawl in front of him and pull his telly-head into her arms before she was wrapped in his. He held her so firmly Hero would think he was afraid of her disappearing. 

There was something different about the way they held each other together when all they wanted to do was shatter apart. 

There was something different. 

[vimse]

A lil Silvie doodle