#ladies' code galaxy

[zuny]

© daum cafe

[lilidawnonthemoon]

[nanni-arts]

Will you take me to the galaxy?

Ladies' Code - Galaxy

[bunniliz]

lovely song <333

[moodymisty]

I would like to throw Sanguinius into the “wants to hunt down his beloved to satiate his latent predatory instincts” arena (especially since he doesn’t indulge them nearly as often as Leman & Lion do, he needs to cut loose 🥴)

But ALSO… Horus wants to be so sugar daddy coded. He wants to actually have kids so not like your typical sugar daddy but he wants to provide for his beloved he wants to drown you in luxury and gifts. It gets him harder than tungsten carbide when he sees you looking dolled up to accompany him somewhere and he knows he bought every single thing you’re wearing (probably down to the underwear cuz we been knew he nasty like that lol). He didn’t just want to raise kids he wanted to occupy that perfect paternal figure archetype as a provider (because he has daddy issues that he “copes” with by trying to one-up Emps XD) and part of the perfect image of his future would probably include a spouse he would spoil and treasure like nobody’s business. This man lives for the constant adoration he gets so of course he wants to hear it from you. The thank yous and bashful looks as he hands you ANOTHER priceless piece of jewelry, mewling and moaning as he’s balls deep in you that you don’t NEED another fur shawl and how people will gossip. Let them talk, let every ear on Terra know the warmaster can and will provide only the finest of the fine things in this whole galaxy for you. Cuz that gets him off too XD

ALKJDFLJSDFLJSKDFOW4ITREHDFNB AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

-----------

"Oh thank you! Warmaster Horus gifted it to me."

You've found yourself saying those words a lot lately, tumbling out of your mouth even before you realize you're saying them.

The dress you wore with sleeves billowing over your wrists, with a train that dusts across the floor is a gift from him, along with the jewelry you wore; The heels you have on are from Horus, custom made from the hide of an animal sourced from a recently annexed planet.

The lingerie you wear under your dress is from him as well- a bra, garter belt, panties and stockings all matching and delicate with lace and silk.

Horus had loved that gift of his in particular, shown in how gentle he was in assisting you while putting it on. And taking it off, now a moments later.

"It sounds like the primarch has quite the warchest, if he's lavishing you with so many gifts." You smile nervously, trying to laugh it off.

You know that despite the relatively simple nature of the comment, that it's implications are less so. There has been gossip going around, talking about Lupercal's spoiled little princess, his brat, and he's been on a manhunt to find the sources of all this talk.

He hasn't told you what he's going to do when he finds out who is nattering insults, which worries you more than a little.

"I keep telling him to stop, that he has thousands of men to feed, but he doesn't really listen."

They smile at you while you try and shrug off their comment, polite and insincere, but amicable enough. At least your response got them away from Horus' gifts.

It's a bit difficult to fend of prying questions about the Warmaster when he isn't around, as many lords and ladies are eager to know anything any everything that could give them a head up. They are all quite interested in the primarchs and their legions goings on, but Horus in particular is of much interest.

Only when you return to Horus' private Terran chambers can you breath, feeling the ache in your feet after so long in heels.

You're taking pins out of your hair when Horus returns, watching you put the pins in a little container before turning to him. He's in his casual war, a massive pelt draped over his shoulder ending right where the start of his baggy brown trousers begin.

"I apologize for missing you, I wish I could've gone but the Mournival had some urgent questions they needed answered." He glances over you, see how you've begun to get ready to settle down. "I hope it went well in my absence, at least." You nod.

"It did, don't worry."

He lets out a soft 'good' in response, but he's already getting down on his knee and pulling something from his trousers.

"I do have something for you. I was going to give it to you before we left, but I suppose I can gift it to you now as an apology for leaving you alone."

You watch as he opens a small box for you, and the shine instantly catches you attention.

They're earrings; Small, delicate and feature a beautiful teal gem as the centerpiece. Horus chuckles.

"You should put them on. I would help but, my hands are not suited for such tiny details."

You can't resist the urge to smile back as you take your current pair out, swapping them for Horus' new ones. He watches with interest the entire time, even as you glance in the large vanity mirror to see them.

"They're perfect Horus, thank you."

You lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck and give him a kiss to the cheek, your lipstick leaving a mark on his tanned skin.

"You always get me so much though, are you sure it's ok?" Horus laughs, a deep chesty laugh as he puts a hand on the small of your back and pulls you closer.

"Ok? Whatever do you mean?" You purse your lips.

"I just don't want you lavish me in all these things when you might be able to use that income for more important things." Horus lets out a softer, quieter laugh, kissing your forehead.

"My love, don't you worry about those things. I have them all handled." His other hand comes up to rest on your jawline, cradling it in his massive palm.

"I only wish to make sure you don't want for a single, solitary thing. If you want something, it is yours. I will make sure of it."

You smile at him, gentle and sweet. You love Horus so much, the feeling is palpable. You wish he wouldn't give you so much however, the gossip is becoming unmanageable. Each time you mention it however

Horus always shrugs it off, saying that they can gossip all they want- It only shows off just how well he takes care of you.

"Do you mind helping me with the buttons on the back of my dress? The handmaid helped me earlier but I think they're off cleaning."

Horus nods and gestures for you to turn around, unfastening the buttons at the nape of your neck. While they're small they aren't as small as the earrings, so he's able to manage the delicate task somewhat easily.

Farther down the trail of buttons eventually the shoulders slide off of you, and the dress pools at your feet.

"You wore it again today,"

Horus says while he looks over your back, and there's an unmistakable look in his eyes at the sight of his gifted lingerie. You turn around, unable to help the way you cross your arms across your stomach.

"It matched the dress, so I thought i would."

His hand drifts over your right thigh, up over the lace top of your stocking, before drifting up and over your hip. He leans inward to press his lips to your collarbone, before lowering to your sternum.

"I should get you another."

You stutter and try to decline his suddenly exclamation as his hands drift upwards, threatening to push your bra up over your breasts.

"Horus, I don't need another, please-"

He hums, and you can feel the vibration go through your chest.

"If you're going to wear it under your dresses then you need multiple, of course."

He's not going to budge on this, and his distractions of kissing your skin are working masterfully. A whimper leaves your throat as one of his hands slides to gently cradle your bottom, and his lips push up your skin to nip at the sensitive skin just below your ear.

"Then... Could you do it in silver? ...I miss the silver of your Luna Wolves regalia."

Horus chuckles, but unlike the one earlier that was so sweet, this one has far more rumble, deeper in his throat.

"Consider it done, my love."

[talonabraxas]

Lady in Red: Andromeda Galaxy Excerpt from Galactic Light Code Monthly

[queenvidal]

I'm Sorry

Chapter 1:

Chapter Summary: The last thing Shepard wanted was to have her ex-boyfriend aboard, but little did she knew how much she'd regret what she's said.

Wordcount: 2855

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2/ Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 - COMING SOON!

Masterlist

With quick steps, Shepard strides toward the cockpit. Joker’s announcement about the jump through the mass relay sparked her excitement, she wouldn’t miss this for anything. She passes Pressly with a big smile on her lips.

Suddenly she stops dead in her tracks and her smile vanishes. A tall figure is standing behind the pilot seat.

Suppressing a groan, Shepard rolls her eyes and steps into position beside Joker, completely ignoring the turian standing nearby.  Nihlus glances at her for a moment before returning his attention back on the screens in front of the pilot.

“Hey, Shep,” Joker greets with a grin, knowing she wouldn’t miss the jump. But his grin also is short lived and soon disappears. The turian's looming presence unsettles him. Joker hates being watched and the turian breathing down his neck is making him nervous.  “Coming for the show?” he asks, his voice a little strained.

Shepard chuckles. “Always.”

Joker adjusts his cap and announces, “Alright, fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. We’re going through.” His fingers fly over the console as the Normandy accelerates toward the mass relay. The sheer scale of the relays never fails to impress Shepard, who watches intently as Joker counts down. The cockpit bathes in brilliant blue light as the Normandy launches into the relay’s energy field.

Suddenly the blue sigts into a stunning sea of millions of stars flashes before them, painting the cockpit in a tranquil glow. Shepard’s lips twitch into a small smile as awe briefly replaces her earlier irritation. The sight is simply beautiful.

Moments later, the Normandy slows down, the stars of their destination stretching out before them. Joker’s hands fly over the controls as he runs post-jump diagnostics. “Thrusters check, navigation check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online. Drift just under 1500k.”

Nihlus nods approvingly. “1500 is good, your captain will be pleased.” He turns around to take his leave, glancing at Shepard for one final time before exiting the cockpit. 

Joker quickly looks over his shoulder, waiting until the turian is out of earshot. “I hate this guy.” Shepard smirks, holding back laughter at Joker’s visible frustration. Kaidan, who is sitting at the co-pilot console, is shaking his head. “Joker, come one. He just gave you a compliment.”

“Compliment my ass.” The pilot girths through his teeth, “I just jumped us halfway across the whole galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead. That’s not good, that's incredible.” While grumbling some curses, Joker's focus returns to his displays. “Besides Spectres are trouble. I don't like having him around.” Neither do I, Shepard thinks to herself. Nihlus belongs on the Citadel, not Andersons ship. Kaidan argues, “The council helped fund this project. They have a right to send someone to keep an eye on their investment. You’ll just have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joker sighs as he enters in new codes. “That's the official story. But only an idiot believes the official story, right, Shep?”

The Commander finally relaxes her posture, letting out a deep sigh. "Honestly? The Council could have sent anyone to supervise the operation, yet they not only sent a Spectre, but him out of all people. They are not truly concerned about the Normandy. The sooner he’s off my ship the better.”

Joker looks at her with a shit-eating grin, “Well, technically it’s Captain Anderson's ship.”

“And technically-” Shepard whispers as she pushes Joker's cap down, right into his face. “You know what I meant.”

“Hey, that's mean!” He complains. He takes his cap off to readjust it properly. “Since when are you sensitive? Pissed you two can't share your bunks anymore?”

Shepard’s glare could set fire to steel. “Don’t test my tamper, Mr. Moreau.” As much as she loves Joker, sometimes he doesn’t know when he’s going too far.

Irritated by Shepards sudden bad mood, Kaidan turns his chair to look at the Commander. “Okay, I feel like I’m missing something. What’s going on?” Joker just huffs a laugh. “Yeah sure, Aleko. As if you don’t know about it.”

“About what?” He asks, raising his brows in question.

Joker stays quiet, leaving Shepard to decide whether she wants to tell Kaidan or not. After a moment of consideration, Shepard explains what’s been going on. “You’ll probably learn it from the others anyway, so I might as well tell you. Kryik and I were involved… romantically.”

Kaidan’s jaw drops to the ground. “What?”

“Yep.” She sighs. “Have been just until a few months ago actually.”

“Well, given your mood, I guess it didn’t end well?” Kaiden asks carefully.

“That’s one way to put it.” Shepard crosses her arms in front of her chest. “We’ve been dating for some time and then things moved quite quickly. Everything was peachy until, from one day to another, he changed. Suddenly he treated me like a stranger and when I confronted him about it, he told me that it was all a big mistake, that turians and humans shouldn’t be together and that he regrets it.”

Kaidan looks at her with wide blown eyes, stunned into silence.

Shepard casts him a sad smile. “That’s exactly the look I had, when he told me all of this.” A ping on her omni tool announces a new message. “For fuck sake.”

“Speaking of the devil, huh?” Joker asks.

“Yup.” Shepard deletes Nihlus message without even bothering to read it. “It’s bad enough to see him strolling through the ship the whole day, can’t he just have the decency to not annoy me even further?”

Suddenly Anderson's voice sounds over the speakers. “Commander Shapard, I need to speak to you in my cabin.”

“Uh!” Joker smiles brightly at her. “Someone’s in trouble.”

Shepard just rolls her eyes, tempted to mess with his cap again. “Bite me, Jeff.”

Quickly the Commander makes her way to the elevator. Once inside, she hits the button for the mess hall a bit harder than necessary. She lets out an irritated sigh before rubbing her eyes. Whatever Nihlus is actually here for, she’s just hoping it will be done as soon as possible. 

Eventually the elevator doors open again, releasing her. Shepard goes straight for the Captain's cabin. She knocks on the door before it wooshes open. “How can I be of service?” She asks, while entering.

Captain Anderson is sitting at his desk. He turns around to face her. “Lynette.” is all he says in greeting. He signs for Shepard to sit on the seat across from him. “I have to talk to you.”

“Of course.” She says as she’s taking a seat, crossing her legs.

The captain sighs deeply. He is visibly uncomfortable. “Lynette, I’ll be blunt, this conversation isn’t easy for me and I doubt it will be for you either.”

Shepard tilts her head slightly, her brow furrowing.

Anderson takes a deep breath. “You’re familiar with Alliance regulations about fraternization aboard a ship, I assume?”

Shepard groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Oh, Anderson, please don’t.”

“I have to,” Anderson says, his tone almost contrite. “Look, I’m not here to pry into your personal life. But with Nihlus aboard, I need your assurance that… whatever happened between you two won’t interfere with missions or ship operations.”

“Of course not, Anderson.” Shepard affirms. She might hate Nihlus guts but she won’t act on her ill feelings, she’s too professional for anything else. “I promise.”

Anderson nods slightly in approval. “Good to hear.”

“Allow me a question, sir?” Shepard crosses her arms casually. “What’s the actual reason for a Spectre to be here?”

Anderson falls back into his chair. “That’s classified.”

“Oh?” Lynette’s eyebrows raise, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “So there is another reason?”

The Captain narrows his eyes for a moment as he realizes his slip. “That’s something we will discuss tomorrow, Shepard. That’s all I can tell you at the moment.”

“Very well.” She says. “Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Anderson hesitates again, his voice softening. “Actually, yes. It might not be my place to ask, but… have you and Nihlus ever talked about what happened? Afterward, I mean.”

“Nope.” Shepard shakes her head.“ After he blew on me, I packed my things and left. Haven't seen or heard from him ever since and as far as I'm concerned, I'd like to keep it that way.”

Certainly she knows the space on the ship is limited and therefore the chance of running into him is pretty high but that doesn't mean she can't  at least try to avoid him.

Anderson just nods silently. “Just do me the favor and keep it low, okay? This is not meant to anger you.”

“Yeah, sure.” She whispers to herself when she stands up. “Sir.” She salutes casually at her Captain before leaving his cabin again.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A new cycle has started on the Normandy. Breakfast has started to be giving out in the mess, which is slowly starting to get crowded. Soldiers shuffle through the line, grabbing trays of rations, some exchanging groggy greetings while others simply nurse their coffee in silence.

Kaidan sits at a corner table, chatting with Doctor Chakwas. Anticipating the morning rush, he’s already picked up an extra tray for their Commander, placing it at the empty seat beside him. He hopes the small gesture will help lift her mood, which has been notably sour since Nihlus arrived.

The tables conversation drifts between topics, focusing on Kaidan’s latest episode of headaches, when Shepard finally appears. “Morning, Commander!” Kaidan calls, spotting Shepard as she strides into the mess.

Mid-yawn, Shepard perks up slightly at the sound of his voice. Her eyes dart to the tray waiting for her, and she gives him a tired but genuine smile. “Kaidan, you’re too good to me,” she says with a tired smile, sliding into the seat.

“I live to serve,” he replies, the corners of his mouth quirking into a small grin.

“Good morning, Commander.” Doctor Chakwas her kindly.  “Slept well?”

“Well enough,” Shepard replies, though she’s already diving into her breakfast.

The conversation between Kaidan and Chakwas resumes with Shepard not contributing much, her focus is entirely on her meal. The calm is short-lived though, as a familiar voice breaks through the low hum of the mess. 

“Lynette, do you have a minute?”

Shepard freezes mid-bite, suppressing a groan. It’s far too early to deal with him. Without looking up, she responds in a clipped tone, “Good morning, Spectre. The correct form of address is Commander Shepard, and no, I don’t.”

In an instant the air is becoming tense. The surrounding tables go quiet, soldiers suddenly finding reasons to focus on their food or shuffle away. Kaidan shifts uncomfortably in his seat and Chakwas raises an eyebrow but says nothing. Both share a quick uncomfortable glance. Nihlus pauses, clearly weighing his options. Finally, the turian straightens. “Commander,” he says simply, before turning on his heel and walking away toward the elevator.

Once he’s gone, Chakwas sighs as she looks at Shepard. Her voice carries a hint of disapproval. “Was that really necessary?”

“No,” Shepard admits, spearing a piece of food. “But a fork to his eyes might be.”

“Shepard!” Chakwas scolds, her eyes wide blown. “You’re an adult woman, for heaven’s sake.”

“I’m kidding, Karin." Lynette replies, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Probably.”

Before Chakwas can retort, Joker’s voice crackles over the speakers. “Commander Shepard, you’re needed in the comm room.”

Shepard exhales heavily, dropping her fork onto the tray with a clatter. “Of course I am.”

Quickly she rises to her feet. While gesturing to the tray, she’s giving Kidan a nod. “Thanks for grabbing this, Alenko.”

“Anytime,” he smiles, watching her retreat toward the elevator.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It was late in the morning, almost midday, when the Commander returned from the meeting she had with Anderson and Nihlus. Seeing Joker was the first thing she did. As annoying as the Pilot can be at times, he is still one of Shepards closest friends. He was the first and only one she broke the news to. 

“Spectre, I can't believe it.” She says while looking at the stars, swaying gently from side to side in the chair, her tone softening. “I really can’t believe it.”

It’s an honor, that’s for sure. Becoming the first human Spectre is nothing Lynette could have ever imagined would happen in her career. She’ll definitely have to give her mother a call later.

“Yeah, about time, huh?” Joker asks, his voice full of sarcasm. “About time the Council added humans to their puppet show. You know, gotta make sure every species gets tangled in their strings” The Commander frowns at him. “Sorry, Shep. I really don’t mean to shit on your accomplishments. It's just…”

“You’re not fond of the council. I know.” She smiles lightly.

“One way to put it. My point is I don’t like you being dragged into their political bullshit. I mean, see what they did. They could have sent about any Spectre to test you, yet they’ve sent King Asshole.”

“Yeah, I know.” The woman agrees. “Let’s put her under a real stress test. Why don’t we force her and her racist ex into a small tin can of a ship for a week?”

That elicits a laugh from the Pilot. "Exactly. Politicians, man. Bunch of jerks in fancy robes.”

Lynette snickers in return, shaking her head. She’s not too fond of politicians either. After stretching her arms, she leans back into the co-pilot seat more comfortably, hr eyes fixated on the stars outside the window. The tension in her shoulders begins to ease, but the sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor snaps her out of it.

“Commander Shepard, I need to talk to you.” Nihlus comes to stand right at the entrance of the cockpit.

Shepard glances at him quickly, before replying. “I'm busy.”

But Nihlus is not having her defiance right now. “That is not a request.”

Joker looks at the both of them. Sensing trouble, he quickly decides to remove himself from this situation. Carefully he stands up from his beloved seat.  “Know what, I was just about to grab some coffee in the mess. My cockpit is all yours.”

Lynette glares at him for abandoning her but Joker just gives her a knowing, apologetic smile before disappearing down the corridor.

Once Joker is out of earshot, Lynette stands up as well. “Alright, what do you want?”

Nihlus stands tall, his hands clasped behind his back, the picture of turian discipline but the subtle flare of his mandibles betrays him. “Shepard, believe it or not, this situation is just as unpleasant for me as it is for you.”

“Oh, ‘s that so?” Her voice is full of sarcasm as she's leaning against her seat.

Nihlus marbles flare again. His eyes leave her for a second, before he calmly states, “This is temporary. Just until the mission is complete. Once it’s done, I’ll file my report, inform the Council and take my leave.

Deciding to reduce the hostility, Shepard reflexes her arms again. “Well, sounds good.”

After a long and silent moment, the turian straightens up. “Shepard, despite what happened between us, I need you to stay focused once we’re planetside.” 

Lynette can’t help but to narrow her eyes at him. “What?”

“Your ill manners towards me on board the ship are one thing but we can’t have your feelings interfere with the mission.” Nihlus’ voices lacks any emotion,“ We have to-”

“Stop.” Shepard cuts him off, visibly getting angry. “Are you really doubting me and my capability to keep my emotions in check?” 

“I am just giving you well ment advice, Commander.” Nihlus states dryly. “This mission and the opportunity for you is way too important to be risk by emotional breakdowns.”

That’s it. Now it’s getting insulting. “Don't you fucking dare to tell me how I should feel and act.” Shepard hisses through gritted teeth. “You're not in the position!”

Nihlus’s voice drops, cold and clipped. “You think this is easy for me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be caught between your feelings and your duty?”

She takes a step closer, her voice icy cold, “Don’t you dare play the victim, Kryik.”

Nihlus just shakes his head lightly, “Lynette, look-”

“Don't you Lynette me!” Shepherd's voice rises in volume, gaining attention from nearby standing officers. 

“Spirits, woman.” Nihlus exhales, visibly frustrated. “I know I’ve hurt you,” he says, his tone gentler now, “I know I’ve hurt you, I know you’re still angry and by the stars, you have every right to. I am sorry-”

The speakers on the bridge light up. Captain Anderson orders the ship to prepare for entering the planet's orbit and for the ground team to gear up.

Following the command, Shepard pushes past the turian to get away. Her voice is dripping with venom, when she glares at him one final time,  “For all I care, Nihlus, you can just drop fucking dead.”

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2/ Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 - COMING SOON

[volt-reblogs-n-rambles]

Actually ok I'm gonna expand on what I said in the notes of that "he would not be in a conventional romantic relationship/he would not settle down with a partner and kids" post right ok. Samus. This is Samus to me? And by extension this is Adamus to me now ok? Like I've been in the little kayak canoe for 9-ish years and the longer I've sat here the more I think this is the acespec coded relationship of all time ok?

Also Samus would not have kids. I'm gonna say it I don't think she trusts herself I don't think she trusts the stability of the galaxy, I've seen fics that make it work and I can respect it. But like personally? Not something I headcanon.

Anyway if like Samus somehow gets an ending to her story and she doesn't canonically die there are two/three paths she goes down right. It's like A. Some kind of sage/cryptic old lady who you're not actually sure isn't over 200 but it's rude to ask, and the Federation certainly won't, elder respect, or B. That but they think she's dead but you get legends for centuries about this immortal warrior who disappears as fast as they appear to help. Or C, Weird Alien Cryptid but Creature. That's a Weird Creature. That's an Eldritch Being. The being just so happens to be fully sapient and has a robot friend? The robot won't tell you anything about the Cryptid though, what are you, a cop?

[zuny]

© polaris_lc

[freezing-kaiju]

THE BIG POLL, ROUND ZERO, REPLACE BLADE BRAVE!!!!!

Beautiful show it is, Kamen Rider Blade must come to an end soon. I will cry. But the world must move on.

And I decided to make this one an anime poll, since some of the legacy options from the very first poll ended up being much longer than the rest. SO! This is all shows between 20-50 episodes, around the same length as a Rider show!

You must choose at least one; if u want more, leave it in the comments or tags or replies pls and i'll count your additional votes at the end!

Agatha Christie’s Great Detectives Poirot and Marple - A young detective related to famous detective Miss Marple joins other famous detective Hercule Poirot as his assistant and learns from these two legendry mentors to solve murders. I love detective shows but I'm not too familiar with Poirot and Miss Marple so maybe the show could serve as an introduction to them. It seems cozy but compelling! The lead writer worked on a bunch of the big popular serieses (Pokemon Sun & Moon, Fairy Tail, Death Note, and Anpanman). This one's a legacy inclusion!

Blue Gender - A man from the modern day with a strange illness goes into cryosleep and wakes up in a destroed earth where mechs and aliens fight and there is a cool tall woman who has a mech. It has gore, mechs which I do need to see more of, but it's a military series. Space's also listed in the genre stuff which...is that a spoiler, do they go to space? 26 episodes, so it's on the longer side, less diligence may apply. This one's a legacy inclusion!

Dirty Pair - 80s anime, two Hotted Boobhaving space agents fight and bicker their way through the galaxy in a distinctly 'two bi women constantly getting divorced' vibe. I don't remember if this one is a legacy inclusion, but it's a famous show!

Scrapped Princess - Fantasy setting, A local white girl doomed to destroy the world and her adoptive siblings travel the world to avoid her devastating fate. also... There's mechs?? Wikipedia tells me it’s a lighthearted but mournful show that uses Clarke’s third law to bridge the gap between scifi and high fantasy. This one was handpicked by a dear friend!

Texhnolyze - by the creators of Serial Experiments Lain, it’s a show that seems similarly angsty and cerebral but much grimier. A boxer gets dismembered, cyborgized, and possibly radicalized deep in the bowels of a city that never sees the sun. ALSO GACKT IS THERE?

R.O.D. READ OR DIE -THE TV- - a potentially jojoish, gay little show about a novelist with a heady mix of hubris and self-loathing and three bibliophile sisters with Paper Abilities fighting various goons and also Britain. It seems like a romp!

Captain Earth - In the vein of Super Sentai (sadly without the precious masks), a color coded group of teens that seems to include a Yaoibait Kaworu fight aliens on behalf of NASA, with a robot that has a REALLY big hat. Supposedly it’s got a lot of intellectual depth!

RahXephon - the second name on everyone’s lips when someone says Evangelion Rip-off, after Darling in the Franxx. Mechs that are blatantly angels, a JSDF, and blue-blooded men in black. I tried a bit, and it’s got a great capture of humanity in times of crisis and such a beautifully 2000s aesthetic.

Devilman Lady - what if you were Devilman and a Lady??? What if there was a blond woman and you were a beast and there was all this blood and violence. Psychological, grungy, and gorgeously 90s. And it's a yuri!!!

Chrno Crusade - Cisgender Bridget and a devilboy (no relation to devilman or devilmanlady) do exorcisms for an order of nuns in 1929 New Yawk Citay. It's a het romance, full of bumbling and comedy and period era ghostbustiness. Also for some reason in a lot of the art (like this one) Chrno is whitewashed?

ITS NOT LETTING ME PUT AN ELEVENTH VIDEO TAKE THIS AND SOME POSTERS

A Precure - I've seen Kamen Riders, Super Sentais, an Ultraman, but I've not seen the sister show to them all; Pretty Cure! SO clearly I need to, and if this one doesn't win it'll flood the poll to replace Ryuki. These options are suggestions; might be others.

[original image sources: agatha's is from the op but can be found screencapped here, gender, dirty, scrapped, texhnolyze, die, earth, rahxephon, lady, crusade (official magazine art findable here), pre tty cure (official posters findable in those places). i replaced them with trailers tho lol. but check the ones that are oroginal anime wallpapers out theyre very nice]

[raspberrybesitos]

Space Cowboy | din djarin x f!reader

Main masterlist

Summary: Before Din became one of the most notorious bounty hunters in the galaxies, he was in love with you. The two of you shared a wonderful life together. However once he joined the Guild, things between you two shifted. Din became increasingly dedicated to hunting quarries, pushing you to the bottom of his priorities. Thus, leading you to make the hardest decision of your life. They say if you love something, set it free.

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~4k

Warnings: kissing, probs inaccurate star wars lore, Din Djarin is referenced as Din in this and i’m not sorry, very little fluff, fools in love, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, desperate!Din, angst with no happy ending, flashbacks, POV switching, Din unintentionally shuts reader out, reader is neglected, this is just sad 🥲

A/N: This idea is loosely based off Space Cowboy by Kacey Musgraves. I was with my bff and we both agreed that whole album is extremely Din coded while we listened to it. She actually inspired the idea for this one shot! so full creds to my twizzy ily 👯‍♀️ i cranked this out in 2 hours before falling asleep, Din has been rotting my brain as of lately. let me know what you think! please feel free to send me asks or leave your thoughts in the comments 🫶🏼 not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by the lovely @saradika 🩵

“Din, my love,” you stir from your slumber, calling out to him in the Razor Crest. No answer, as usual. He’s been on this bounty for a week now when he said it’d take no longer than 4 days. Your comm link had broken, not having time to grab another before you two set off on this journey. Sighing, you rise to your feet and make the bed. Wandering through the ship, you open the door and watch the ramp descend. You begin your usual, mundane walk around the forest in which the ship is parked.

Since joining a year ago, Din has grown increasingly distant as he establishes himself in the Guild, set in his dedication to them. While you’re happy your partner has found a burning passion, you do miss him. Never really around and when he is, his mind is somewhere else - not with you.

Lost in thought, you don’t hear the rustling in the bushes. “Cyar’ika!” Din’s voice pierces the air, startling you. “Oh! My love! You’re back,” sighing, relieved to see him. “I told you to stay on the ship. We don’t know what’s out here,” he says, short and curt as he lugs the quarry to the ship.

Stealing a glance at the quarry, mindful not to use his real name. “Mando, you can’t possibly expect me to stay confined to that ship for days while you’re off doing stars knows what!” Anger courses through your veins, his words sending you into a fit of fury. He shoves the quarry up the ramp, you following in tow. “He not treating you right, pretty lady?” Din tightens his hold onto him, the quarry yelping in pain. “What?! I can’t ask a question?!” “No. You can’t,” Din grits as he tosses him into the cargo hold, freezing him. Din closes the ship door, bringing the ramp up.

“Din! Do you really expect me to stay inside the ship for days at a time?!” You shriek. “Yes! I do! I already have enough to worry about, I don’t need to add you to the list too,” he spits. “Your list? So I’m one of your quarries now?!” He scoffs at your words, grumbling as he ascends the ladder. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Of course you don’t. You never do,” you mutter as he walks away. He freezes, climbing down the steps. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Your chest heaves, words forming on your lips before you even realize. “You never have time for me anymore! I never see you! You’re constantly away on these hunts, while you stick me in here like I’m some sort of doll! And even when you are here, you ignore me half the time! It’s been a year, how long do you expect to me go on like this?!”

“Go on like what?! You know I’m working my way up in the Guild, you knew this was going to be a big adjustment. I told you this when I joined.” You fight back tears that threaten to spill over, battling to keep your composure. “I know that, Din! I do! But I’m lonely, I miss you! Is that so hard to understand?” You plead. “I’m here with you when I’m not out on a hunt, how could you miss me?” He asks, oblivious to your pain, your needs.

“When you’re here, you stare out the window the majority of the time! Tracking your quarries, talking to Karga, finding who you need to pick up next, only ever acknowledging me when you return or before bed! You don’t even sit and have dinner with me anymore,” you explain exasperatedly. “So because I’m busy doing my job and not sharing a ration pack with you every night, you’re upset?”

It takes every fiber in your being to not let your tears fall. Blinking them back, you swallow them down. “That’s not what I mean, Din.” Your voice wobbled and hushed. “Then what do you mean, cyar’ika? I’m trying to provide a better life for you, for us. A life where you have all the things you deserve,” Din says. “I don’t care about any of that, Din. My life will always be better with you in it, no matter where we are or what we have, or lack.”

“You said you’d support me when I joined the Guild.” “And I do! It’s not that I don’t support you, Din, I-,”

“Then what is it?” “Please, stop twisting my words. We never argue like this. My love… please.” Despite not seeing his face, you know your words have gotten to him. He lets out a modulated sigh. The silence hangs heavy in the air until it’s interrupted by an incoming call from Karga on Din’s comm link. “I’ve gotta take this, cyar’ika.”

Fighting back tears is a losing battle. “Okay,” you whisper, pushing past him and into the refresher. Din sighs as you shut the door behind you. He doesn’t know what’s worse - the fact that you didn’t slam the door or that he wishes you did. As he ascends the ladder to take the call, he hears a sniffle from the refresher. Torn between you and the call, he continues his way up the ladder.

Silently sobbing into a towel on the floor, your body rattles as you attempt to control your breathing. It’s no use, he refuses to see why you’re upset. He used to be so empathetic with you, so open and tender. Now, it’s like you might as well be his colleague, one that he barely speaks to merely out of obligation. Your heart shatters at the thought, wondering if his love has also faded away along with the Din you once knew.

Picking yourself up, you splash water on your face - grateful for the icy chill to revive you. You open the door, tip toeing out into the ship. Peering around the corner, you check to see if Din has gone to bed. The bed is empty and made, seemingly untouched. A defeated sigh escapes your lips. You quietly ascend the ladder, peeking inside the cockpit. Din sits in the pilot seat, as the ship moves through hyperspace, the blue light reflecting off his armor.

Fighting an internal war, deciding if you should stay or give him space, you ultimately decide on the latter. You clear your throat before leaving. He whips around in his seat.

“Where are we going?” “Back to Nevarro. I’ve finished for now. Karga wants to meet with me for a special bounty.” Your chest aches. “Oh. Okay. How long until we get there?” “About 2 days.”

“Okay. I’m going to bed.” Thick, heavy silence ensues again. “Okay, cyar’ika. Good night.” You flash him a pained, small smile. “Good night, Din. I love you,” you say, voice unsteady. There’s a beat before he speaks. “I love you too.” It’s silly to even hope that he’ll join you, but hope is all you can hang onto to stay sane for the next 2 days.

You descend the ladder and climb into the small cot you two normally would’ve shared. It feels so big despite its size. Burying your face into his pillow, fat tears fall from your eyes again. Your chest on fire as your lungs burn from heaving. You tire yourself out from sobbing, falling into a deep sleep.

You wake after stars knows how long, eyes burning as you crack them open. Swollen and puffy, it hurts to keep them open. You stretch and climb out of bed, rubbing your head to soothe the intense ache. Climbing up the ladder, you see Din isn’t in the seat anymore and you’re no longer in hyperspace. Stepping down, you hear the refresher door hiss as it opens. Din steps out, adjusting his helmet. He smells clean, like his piney soap. He must’ve taken a shower. He freezes as he sees you standing in front of him.

“Cyar’ika,” he nearly whispers. “Din.” He winces at the use of his name, not used to it tumbling from your lips as you typically call him your ‘love.’

“How’d you sleep?” “Good. How long did I sleep for?” “About a day.” You’re taken aback a bit. You’ve never slept that long before. “Oh.” “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked peaceful.”

I definitely didn’t feel that way, you silently think. “I wish you had joined me,” you can’t help but admit. “You also know sitting in that chair isn’t good for your back.” He sighs at your words. “I know, cyar’ika, but I didn’t know if you wanted me there.” Your brows scrunch, lips turning into a frown. “I always want you next to me, Din. Even if we have a disagreement beforehand, I’ll always want you by my side.”

“I’ll always want you by my side too, cyar’ika. Which is why I need your support as I advance in the Guild,” he says. “Din, I do support you, I can’t stress that enough. I just wish you’d hear what I’m saying - see where I’m coming from,” you sigh. “This job that Karga wants me to take pays very well. It’ll greatly assist us in buying a house somewhere one day. A house where we can raise a family.”

“Din, what part of ‘I don’t care where we are just as long as we’re together’ do you not understand? A house doesn’t mean anything to me if you’re never going to be home. That’s no life for a family. You are my home. All I’m asking for is more time with you, my love. You haven’t kissed me in over a week,” you ramble.

“I need you, cyar’ika. I always will… but right now, I need to take this job. To set up our future for success. I’ll give you everything you ask for very soon, cyar’ika, I promise,” he says, completely disregarding everything you’ve just said.

“How soon, Din?!” You ask, your throat burning. “I don’t know, but soon!” Fat tears cascade down your cheeks, taking in a deep breath.

“Aren’t I enough, Din?” You hiccup, your cheeks soaked in sorrow. “Of course you are enough, cyar’ika! More than enough, why would you ask such a question?” He asks offendedly. “Then why do you keep making me compete with the Guild? Why is this job so important? Why won’t you listen to me? Why won’t you talk to me anymore?” You shout, through your tears, voice crackling.

“I’m not making you compete with the Guild. I’ve told you why this is important. It’s for us, for our future children,” he says, growing impatient. “No. This is for you. You’re trying to prove yourself for whatever reason you won’t tell me,” you grit. “I am not trying to prove myself to anyone. I’m the one who is trying to provide for us, trying to make sure we stay afloat. Someone has to. I’m sorry I don’t have time to play house. We need to have one of those first in order to do that,” he spits, frustration boiling over as he raises his voice.

You’re frozen in place, feet glued to the floor. He’s never raised his voice at you. He’s never talked at you before. Your tears pause, body going into shock at his reaction. He’s gone. The Din you fell in love with is gone, floating around in the stardust somewhere in one of the many galaxies you two have traveled through.

“Cyar’ika, I-,” you hold a hand up to him. “No. It’s fine,” you whisper as you walk past him. “Cyar’ika, I’m sorry, that’s not what I-,” You turn around to look at him. “It’s okay, Din. Really,” you whisper, stepping into the tiny chamber that contains your cot, shutting the door. You’ve never shut the door before, but you need to get away from him somehow as you’re confined to this small ship.

Tears drip from your eyes until there are no more, unable to cry anymore. You know what you have to do when you reach Nevarro. With nowhere else to go, you curl into a ball and desperately try to sleep. You drift off, grateful for the painful headache which forces you into sleep.

A knock on the door wakes you from your slumber. “Cyar’ika, we’re landing,” Din says, modulated voice muffled from the outside the door. You wait until you hear his footsteps climb up the ladder and into the cockpit. Opening the door, you grab your single bag and quickly pack what little belongings you have on the ship and hide it under the blanket on the cot.

You hurriedly climb up into the cockpit and situate yourself in the passenger seat, acting as if last night didn’t happen. Painful silence clings to the air. The ship descends and the two of you sit in silence in the process. As soon as the ship lands, you swiftly unbuckle your seatbelt and scurry down the ladder, desperate to get off this ship.

Din follows suit and opens the door, waiting for the ramp to descend. He goes to the cargo hold of the ship. While his back is turned, you grab your bag from under the blanket and hurry out the door and onto land.

Making your way to the cantina, you search for Greef Karga. Spotting him, you wave him down. He greets you with a smile. “Ah! Mando’s girl! How have you been? Where is Mando?” He kindly asks, oblivious to your hastiness. “Uh, he’s still on the ship. Unloading the quarry. Do you think you could help me with something?” He grows concerned at your question. “I’ll do my best. Is everything alright, young lady? Are you hurt?”

You wave him off. “No, no. I’m fine. I just, um. I just need a place to stay while Mando continues working,” you explain. Karga raises a brow at your statement. “He’s not… hurting you is he?” Your eyes pop out of your head at the accusation. “Stars, no! He would never do that! I just need some space to myself rather than stay confined to the ship.” “Okay, okay. I just wanted to be sure. We can arrange something, perhaps you can bunk with Cara. In the meanwhile, I have a spare room you can use as we figure something out.” You smile, relieved that you get to stay here.

“Thank you. Thank you so so much, Karga,” you say, shaking his hand. “Does Mando know you’ll be staying here?” You avoid the question, letting go of his hand. “Are you leaving Mando?” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I can’t do it anymore, Karga. I’m so lonely. It’s for the best,” you whisper, not wanting to air out all the details of your relationship. He frowns, “If you’re lonely, imagine how lonely Mando will be after you leave,” he says. “Please don’t. Don’t do that. I have to choose myself. I’ll choose me first if no one else will,” you say through your crackling voice. Karga just sympathetically nods.

He takes out a ring of keys and removes one, placing it in your hand. “The key to my house. You know which one it is, right?” He asks. You furiously nod. “Go ahead and let yourself in. Don’t forget to lock it after. Take your time,” he says. “Thank you,” you sigh as you firmly shake his hand one more time.

You exit the cantina, heading in the direction of Karga’s house. “Cyar’ika!” You stop walking, whipping your head around at the sound of his modulated voice. Din is running up to you, weapons clanging against his worn armor.

“Where did you go? You rushed off the ship so fast, I couldn’t ask where you went. I was worried,” he huffs. “I came to see Karga,” you say flatly. “For what?” Confusion lacing his voice. “I needed help with something.” “Something I couldn’t help you with?” “Yes, actually,” you explain. “Cyar’ika, what did you need that I couldn’t have helped you with?”

You glance away, unable to bear the sight of him despite his face being covered. Biting back tears, the words begin to form on your lips. “I’m staying here, Din,” you whisper, careful not to say his name too loudly.

“What? Cyar’ika, wait,” Din says. “I’m staying here, Din. There’s nothing that could change my mind. I’m so sorry, my love,” you tell him quietly. “No, no, cyar’ika. Don’t do this,” he pleads, scrambling to grab your hands. “I have to Din,” you quietly rasp through your tears. “No you don’t. Please, cyar’ika. Don’t leave me, I need you,” his voice trembles from behind the helmet. “And I need you too, Din, but until you get what you want out of the Guild, I’ll never have you.” You shake your hands out of his.

“Cyar’ika, please stay. I’ll do whatever you need me to do. I’ll change for you. Whatever it is. Don’t leave me please,” he begs, tears evident in his voice as he collapses to his knees and hugging your middle. A sob wracks your body as you look up to the dreary sky, searching for strength.

“I know you won’t decrease the amount of quarries you take. You’re too stubborn, and that’s part of why I love you. I never want to change you. I love you the way you are, even though we have our differences now. Din, we’ve simply outgrown each other’s needs. My place is no longer with you, at least for now it’s not,” you explain, shaking in the process.

“Your place will always be with me, cyar’ika. I love you, mesh’la,” Din sobs. “And I love you too, Din. I always will. But I need to let you go, let you finish what you need to do. I’ll be here on Nevarro so I’ll see you around whenever you drop by. My love for you will never fade. Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll come back to me,” you choke. He embraces you even tighter, afraid you might disappear.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, my love. I’m so sorry,” you whisper as you lean down to press a kiss to his helmet. You struggle to unwrap yourself from his grasp. His hands fall to his sides as he looks up at you. “I love you,” you whisper before running off.

Din kneels there for what feels like eternity. “Mando?” Karga’s voice pulls him out of his trance, causing him to rise to his knees. “You knew,” Din says. “I only found out today,” Karga says, clapping a hand on Din’s armor. He shakes it off as if he’d been shot. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t work with traitors,” Din huffs. “I’d be careful of the next words you choose if I were you,” Karga threatens. Din grumbles under his breath.

“Come on. Let’s go talk about that special bounty. Don’t let her departure be for nothing,” he says, holding a hand out to Din. Begrudgingly shaking it, the two men walk off to the cantina to discuss the quarry at hand.

Back on the ship, Din inputs the coordinates for the most-wanted quarry in all the galaxies. His heart shattered into dust, chest feeling hollow in your absence. The ship roars to life as it ascends, Din navigating through the galaxies. Once on track to Arvala-7 and at a steady pace, Din puts the Razor Crest into hyperspace.

He descends the ladder. He’s never felt so empty before. Not since before he met you. Removing his helmet, he trudges into the refresher splashing ice cold water on his face. Stepping back into the ship, he rounds the corner and plops himself onto the cot. A deep sigh rumbles from deep within his soul. He attempts to get comfortable until he feels something hard underneath the pillow. Lifting his head, he reaches under the pillow and feels around for whatever is poking him. Grasping a hold of something, he yanks it from underneath.

His heart stops and his ears ring, deep silence pierces the ship. It’s a note with something enfolded inside. “My love” the front of the note reads. He opens it, a gasp shuddering from his lips. It’s the bracelet he gifted to you after capturing his very first quarry on your first hunt together, the one you wore daily since then. The two of you, younger and more spry. So in love, you looked like a pair of fools. He unfolds the note.

“I love you, Din. I always will. Please don’t ever forget that. This bracelet is a reminder of the moment I knew I loved you. The day we said it aloud. I love you forever. -Your cyar’ika.” He can’t contain the sob that rattles in his soul. Call him selfish, but he hopes he can come back to you one day - hopes he can make you his forever. He lost you once, he won’t lose you twice. Clutching the bracelet, he recalls the sweet memory.

“Cyar’ika?” Din called out to you, your sweet humming rings through the ship and out into the open air, penetrating the barren planet. You insisted on keeping the ramp open, the scorching heat of the planet you stayed on growing overwhelming in the sealed ship.

“In here, my love!” You call out to him from within the Razor Crest. Grunting catches your attention, making you drop the ration pack you were just about to open. Din lugs a quarry up the ramp and into the cargo hold, freezing it in carbonite.

A smile plasters your face as you praise him. “Your first quarry! I’m so proud of you, my love!” You cheer, applauding him. His modulated laugh is like music to your ears. “Thank you, mesh’la,” he says, wiping his gloves on his flight-suit before walking over to you.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flushed against his rusted armor. “I couldn’t have done it without you, my cyar’ika,” he says huskily in your ear. Your smile grows even wider. “I’ll always be here to cheer you on, my love,” you say, toothy smile adorning your face. He brushes a gloved hand against your cheek.

“Close your eyes,” he whispers. You quickly do so, excitedly puckering your lips for what typically comes next. You feel him shift around a bit, fiddling with his sides, making your brows and nose scrunch in confusion. “Open them, cyar’ika.”

You crack them open, confused as to why he didn’t kiss you until you see what he’s holding in his hand. A silver bracelet, a small single charm dangling from it. You gasp as you realize what the charm symbolizes, tears welling in your eyes. It’s Din’s signet - a mudhorn. “Where did you get this? How did you get this? This must’ve cost a fortune, Din,” you whisper through your tears as you gently caress the bracelet in your hand.

“I’ve had it for a while, cyar’ika. And don’t worry about the cost, I’d buy you every galaxy if I could. It’s what you deserve,” he tells you. “What did I ever do to deserve this, my love?” He caresses your cheek once more. “You put up with me.” Your lips pull into a frown. “I don’t put up with you, Din. I love you.” The words leave you before you realize you’re saying them.

Stunned silence punches the air. “Close your eyes,” Din says. “I-,” He cuts you off. “Close your eyes, cyar’ika,” he says more firmly. You do as he asks. The hissing of his helmet rings in your ears. Suddenly, you feel a familiar pressure on your lips, the one you’d waited for earlier.

Din crashes his lips onto yours, capturing them in a hungry, ferocious kiss. You gasp as this one feels different than the rest. His tongue slips inside your mouth, moaning into him. Your knees buckle, but Din catches you before you can fall. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer, desperate to be consumed by him. His large, thick gloved hands roam your back, sending chills up your spine.

You pull back, chest heaving as you gasp for air as you keep your eyes closed. He presses his warm, sweaty forehead against yours. “I love you too,” he whispers. You can hear the smile in his voice, giggling at his words.

“Say it again,” you ask. “I love you,” he says, pressing a peck to your cheek. “Again,” you giggle. “I love you,” pecking your other cheek. “Again.” “I love you,” pecking your nose. “Again,” you laugh louder this time. He muffles it with a firm kiss to your lips.

“I love you, cyar’ika,” he says, pulling away and scooping you up, spinning you around in his arms. You squeal with laughter as you throw your head back, holding onto his head and eyes remaining closed. He laughs with you before setting you down.

“I love you, Din Djarin. Forever, my love,” you sigh. “Forever, my cyar’ika.”

this was my first time writing angst with no happy ending and omg, as a hopeless romantic, it hurt! 😭 but i did enjoy writing this! i’m super proud of it 🥹

i do have a happy din djarin one shot in the works, i promise! it’s a slow burn full of fluff and mutual pining 🤭

should i write a part 2 for these two? perhaps a reunion and they live happily ever after… or another sad ending? 🫣 wondering how Cyar’ika would react when she sees Din has adopted a son… hmmm�� 💭

thanks for reading! 🫶🏼

tag list: @gracieheartsspedro @undrthelights @jenispunk @nostalxgic @mandoisapunk @amanitacowboy @bastardmandennis @party-hearses @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tinygarbage

[fallenrepublick]

And She Shall Be Called Upon For Greater

Part 1 - Part 2

Here it is, my little passion project. Of course, this is just an introduction to it, but I wanted to start off with this piece. There's plenty more going on in the background, and I'm so happy to be working with this character and concept that I've always felt deserved better than what she was given. I think she has the potential to be fantastic, and I hope you all think so as well. Let me know what you think or if I can answer any questions!

Warnings: None

---

Steps on an empty ground have always been, and shall always be, the greatest method of measuring absence. The echo of a heel, or the swipe of a shoe’s sole, lingering in the air as replacement for the voices long since lost, serves to remind the only being, which makes their way down the oddly blue-tinted hall, of the many memories lying in wait beneath the metal and stone.

In the time of overturn, where age-old systems crumbled beneath her feet, where tradition gave way to a new, cold, soulless floor, so little had changed for her. Ghosts gripping fiercely the hilts of practice sabers ran across the space, not yet ready for the dangers of true kyber. Sage beings slipped over the patterned tiles, whispering of the war only just come to rise, drenched in heavy, neutral fabrics, fighting to remain upright in spite of the weight. Arrays of girls tip-toed to the doors that lined the wall, whispering and daydreaming amongst themselves, unable to help their speculation of why they'd been moved to such a grand temple at all.

She could almost see them, kicked up and made of old dust, no wiser to their fate than they'd been the day before it befell them. And as there was nothing to be done for them, she left the poor souls over her shoulder, keying a small code into the pad below the name plaque, reading in fanciful letters, “Ismaren”

Low lights switched on in the midst of her presence, rising in straight, perfected lines from the floor, and flickered just a touch with the shut of the door. The clasp holding together the ends of her cloak clicked as it came undone, short nails tapping the spotless gold and shoulders shrugging the covering off. It was not in her nature to litter the ground with her clothes, tired as she was, and the soft pinks, purples, and blacks folded nicely as each layer shed from her skin.

“Shall I have these washed for you, My Lady?” questioned the voice from behind, a flash of silver passing through the woman's periphery.

“Yes,” she replied.

The washroom was the place of sanctity, where one could remove the pins and gold from black hair, wipe away the pale creams and colors from her skin, dye the towels unnatural colors, remember what Roganda looked like. Rather than a deep sensation of blood, her lips were a gentle, muted pink. Rather than lined in heavy black and surrounded by reckless swipes of blue, thick white skin beneath it all, her eyes were truly unornamental, epicanthal lids held low most days, a very slight tan giving life to all she was. Water running to the floor of the shower might have drowned out the laugh she gave, if only to recognize her own features with a smile.

The place drew peace, rolling its warmth over her body, warding away reality. She breathed. It was time, that odd, damned thing that she’d wasted. How long had it been, two years, since the war ended? Waged for four years as she stood on high, witnessing an ascent to power, a schism splitting the galaxy in more ways than the Republic had ever predicted, peace brought through only the greatest of sins. She’d watched chaos reign, she witnessed loss and the fall of those she once knew. Children she had the privilege of growing beside felled by barbaric methods, mocked in their graves by violent, painted lips that believed every word their master spoke to them. How they could bear to consider it the truth was beyond her, as she herself knew truth to be the perfect opposite. Rinsing hardened product from each strand of hair, the locks slowly grew softer, falling to rest against her skin, sticking to her back and waving around her shoulder blades. And oh, she could remember it, that feeling of being a child. To run, unbeholden to where the carpet ended and began, nearly tripping over your robes, or that of your friend. To learn one day how cruel children could be, to teach yourself the greatest skill ever written as you protect your mind the most of all. She could remember the sounds, the voices of the masters, their eyes studying who was worthy of their lessons. The silence of the night she was spirited away, left to wonder whether any searched.

None of it truly mattered, not in this year, not as she dripped to the thin mat outside the shower and combed her hair, nor as she donned a soft pink robe back into her room. The droid had left, no doubt, to work tirelessly at the laundry and chores, in that age-old fashion that would keep the machines occupied for hours on end, leaving Roganda to her silence.

It was the bookcase she approached first, small and old, only a few books remaining in its shelves. Yes, perhaps it was time to remind herself of the purpose of it all. She’d never been one to question it, to find peace in the madness. To do so would be to reject the madness entirely, to claim that her god was false or used suffering for no end or purpose. No, no, she knew better, far better than that.

Hooking her finger over the spine, she pulled from its position a tome, aged leather dyed the deepest blue she’d ever known, marked on its face the symbol she held always close to her body. Between her fingers, the pages glided like silk, dark writing beautiful as it carried more so memories than stories.

Woe to all, untouched of my blessings, ignorant of curses, spiteful of pain. For what is your purpose, if not to struggle, to know that which you have earned? Do you think yourselves so entitled to virtue that you shall live only a single way? Do you live to never suffer, to never know fear, to never clench your fists in agony, yearning for what might have been instead? Those siblings of mine have known it, long before the advent of your world. My followers have known it, deeply entrenched in their creation. So cry, cry children, to my heaven, bear the weight of your sins proudly. Know absolution and await inevitability.

They were words she’d committed to memory, even in the days of her very being enthralled to the Jedi, as she’d promised herself to her god the very moment she held the book. Certainly, the Jedi would have considered her god cruel, almost sith-like, but oh, how far from the truth she knew it to be. Her god was possibly the only pure one, her teachings rooted in the reality of which they all lived, aware, perhaps too aware, of what it was to be mortal. She recalled her assertions when the world seemed to press just a touch too much, she spoke the queen’s words beneath her breath when the galaxy lost itself, when panic and grief drove every action, every thought, every conclusion. And she held the words, the shape of them, in her mind, she wondered when next the queen would speak to her.

Never would Roganda claim to be a zealot, to base her entire livelihood and perceptions on that which her god claimed as true. Truthfully, she was a realist, one that saw in the world what she had grown to know. She suffered, she was certain of that, she had since her childhood in this temple, she had since fourteen, spirited away from her barren dormitory as she awaited the possibility of an apprenticeship. And yet her acceptance of it had given her greater power than a world in which none of it had happened. Whispers of the future in her god’s voice promised greatness, promised more and more as the years went on. And from it, she found pride, a purpose stolen from her under the Jedi’s grasp. A purpose given life by the women that had once been around her, vain and greedy, blind to the lives they led. Their youth sustained her, one by one, disappearing with little trace, with little care for each other, believing it to be providence that their rivals were removed from their path. Tragedy, that was the way of the world, of their world. They never knew what they could have had, what they could have become. And so their purpose alone was to serve her own. Knowing this, her hand which supported the book began to tremble, as if the power held within this book’s ancient knowledge flowed into her veins, piercing her blood and altering the very core of what she was.

It wasn’t even a second after she flipped the page that her desk lit up from the other end of the room, forcing the girl to slip her tome back into place and tiptoe to the notification. She approached her desk, simple and purposeful, the glass top awaiting a command. With a few taps, the surface projected a portrait, the name “Osmond” written in basic beside the face, tinted heavily in blue light.

The man was older than her, beginning to bald from the hairline, though she’d not quite label him middle-aged. Wrinkled traced around his features, indicative less of age, and more so of experience, never truly able to assuage the sly smile he maintained, even in the motion of his mannerisms. She’d taken to liking this one, him and his warm behaviors. Shrouded in lies or not, he maintained loyalty to her employment, almost proud of his association, even if he never flaunted it. He’d proven himself reliable, willing to go the extra distance to do as she asked, and blazing the trail for others that answered to him, secure and functional.

“Any word?” she asked upon her acceptance of the call, the table’s projection changing to a live feed of the man’s head and shoulders.

Beginning the answer with a heavy inhale, his eyes slid away from hers, needing a moment to formulate the words. “It’s… complicated. They’re fragmented, no one’s really sure what anyone else is doing… It’s more of a thought than an actual movement.”

Roganda’s lips pressed together, tapping her nails against the glass. “And you’re getting this from whom, exactly?”

“Oh, the usual,” he hummed, shrugging his shoulders, “Convicts, traitors. This one guy that used to sell death-sticks. They’re reliable.”

She’d nearly forgotten his post, the very reason she’d chosen him. His affinity for the lowest levels of Coruscant and the poor souls that served as their occupants were perhaps the best to ask when it came to information, to potential uprising. In fact, nowadays, the levels became home to those the Empire despised most of all, the groups that remembered all too well the way things had been before even the war, who threatened the “peace” brought about by the Emperor. Joined by a collective desire and crudely-designed codes to identify each other, these little pockets of rebellion often found themselves vying for Osmond’s attention and the protection he offered. Armed with resources and the ability to make even the most wanted citizens disappear with a flick of the wrist, those that managed to get more than they bargained for came to him for a restart. And in return, paired with a fair sum of cash, these sad souls offered him what they knew of the impending revolts, fears quelled by promises that the Empire would never find out. With a bit of luck at his side, the man was able to glean the names of a few leaders, some senators, some not, to offer his employer.

“I realize they’re reliable,” Roganda hummed, low voice sending a chill down the spy’s spine, “I need to know if they will join the ring. Or at least give us more than what we have. It cannot be trusted what was said of Mothma and Organa without sufficient proof or corroboration. We haven’t enough channels to securely pass information to these groups, and we certainly haven’t enough knowledge of what factions they associate with. Without greater resources, what is currently known is useless to our ends.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, albeit nervously. “You’d have me do…”

“I’d have you dig deeper. Expand our horizons. There will be more defections in the coming months as higher ranking officials abandon their posts. Take advantage of it. Lengthen the chains of communications and ensure that no actor knows the identity of any other, only locations and times of information drops. Offer certainty where no others can.”

“You make it sound so easy!” the spy laughed yet again, throwing his arms from his sides, “The clones that pass through here are few and far between nowadays. People are scared to talk. Hell, they’d rather pay me extra just to keep me from asking more questions.”

For a moment, she was silent, her eyes cast to the edges of the table, though her mind remained elsewhere. “What of that scientist? The one rumored to return from Vallt?”

“Ghh…” the man half-growled, trying to come by the name by luck alone, “Aee… Eh… Ers…o?”

“Erso,” she repeated in a husky whisper, far more purpose to the word than he’d expected, “How likely is his compliance? With the Empire, that is.”

Osmond sucked in through his teeth. “He’s got a wife and child.”

“Very likely, then,” she concluded, “Though such people rarely take kindly to threats on family, you know. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

And he nodded, hesitance in the motion. “What, uh… what do you need him for?”

In return, she smiled. “If I told you that, I’d have to kill you.”

“Fair enough, you’re the boss,” he said, a certain lightheartedness returned to his voice, tossing up a few finger blasters to remove any remaining tension, “Find new recruits, track Erso and don’t engage. Pretty typical.”

“For now, it is. Should any factions start to mobilize, send notice immediately.”

“You got it,” he acknowledged, giving a sharp nod of his head before ending the transmission. Once more, the table’s lights lowered, awaiting any further command before shutting off completely.

She was left to silence, now that the spy knew his task. She took the space to breathe, to sigh in relief that her greatest ally still lived. It was often she wondered if he would be unlucky, if he would one day cease communications, if the Empire would catch him or perhaps kill him on sight. Even still, he’d been lucky until now, she could hardly imagine that he would fail in the future.

And so she returned, dragging her book from its place yet again, carrying it as one would a child toward her small couch, curling her legs to her body, resting her feet on the cushion at her side, her back to the pillow that leaned always on the arm rest. Ever so carefully, she pulled open her book, eyes tracking over the words, over the golden designs swirling along the edges of each page, noting the gilded edges reflecting the room’s light from the corner of her eye. It quelled her anxieties, her thoughts. From every responsibility, from every role she took, the imagery painted by every sentence took her to the moment she lived, to who she remained. In time, she would sleep, taken to yet another day, and she would be called for. Soon, she knew, she would be called for greater.

[warsamongthestars]

Back on my bullshit.

I've got a lot of questions, on how the TBBshow works exactly?

Cos yeah, its been clear for a long time, it doesn't want you asking questions because it will just, fall apart at the seams and go from Frankestein's monster to Frankenstein's ground floor beef.

Like, basic shit. Here's the Plot breaking questions:

HOW DID THEY RECRUIT STORMTROOPERS SO FAST? If they could just, recruit people out of the blue like that, like, Immediately Post-War side, not even 24 hours after the destruction of the Jedi Temple. Where the did they come from? And if they could just, come in like that, why weren't there any natborn armies during the Clone Wars itself? Recruitment takes a long time. Boot camps, at minimum, take 3 months real world. So, Plot Hole 1: Spawning Stormtroopers with Cheat Codes.

WHY DIDN'T THE CLONE ARMY REBEL? If the argument is, that the chip just Wears off, and we know that our troops can and will just rebel against bad officers (We've seen it happen), and that they all do have a pretty strong moral backbone in general... ... How come when this, so called "Wear off" occurred, we didn't see a rebellion enmass? Especially after Kamino's destruction? Still can't recruit and train people that fast, and there's still an entire clone army, and its pretty clear that the show claims there are lots of clones in the ranks and hiearchy... Clearly, it must not just "Wear Off". Plot Hole 2: Attempting to claim that established Sci-Fi Brain Tumors isn't Sci-Fi Cancerous.

WHY IS EVERYTHING EVERWHERE ELSE? Where is Cody? What's going on with Rex and his Rebellion? Why did Echo join that exactly, and how come the Batch couldn't be convinced? Why the fuck is Ventress even There. The story (and its writers) keep wanting to push that "Everything is going to occur at a later time". Well, mothers and fuckers of the audience, if Star Wars were to end tomorrow, like full on Vault Sealed Forever, or nobody has access to these "other stories" either by money or medium--then no, the Story didn't happen somewhere else--it simply Didn't Happen at all. Thus, teasing stories that simply Aren't, and refusing to fill in the story that Is. Plot Hole 3: The Excitement is Farther than the Galaxy Far Far Away

PABU The Empire knows about Pabu, it bombed it for the sake of the Force. You tellin' me that, after Tantis was done, Pabu just magically regerated with anti-Evil Empire shields? And that it wasn't immediately placed under Imperial control like EVERY PLANET TBB HAS ESTABLISHED SO FAR!? Plot Hole 4: You don't need to see their identification, this is not the planet you are looking for.

EMERIE KARR I like her concept, so I'm gonna be picking on her execution. So female clone that is effectively a narrative clone of Omega, except if Emerie existed at the same time as the Bad Batch (likely as its hinted 5th member) and the Clone Wars, as we're supposedly meant to believe that Omega did--how come Omega didn't know about her before. Where the fuck was she. Why would Hemlock be finding a random clone in nowhere space and decide that she was sexy enough to be the sexy lady evil scientist? Her concept is great, but current execution breaks the timeline. Plot Hole 5: Omega split into Omega 2 by Mitosis

HOW ARE THEY BROTHERS EXACTLY? How are our Main Characters brothers? I don't mean in the literal sense, I mean in the sense of "These guys are brothers in arms thick and thin, been through so much shit and came together in support in the face of adversity" And yet, the only thing we see is, bickering, no conversations, refusal to confront topics that directly affect them with each other, obsessing about anything else but actually talking to each other, abandoning each other at a moment's notice for one bullshit thing after another without discussion. Utterly ignoring each other when lives are on the line... Leaving one for Dead... Claiming that they're trying to protect their child sister in order to give her a place to grow up, but insist on bringing her on every dangerous mission ever, treating her as a child soldier... ... When they could've just robbed the stupid lizard bitch and been on that isolated planet they were talking about in Episode 2 before the end of Season 1. After a certain point, I think I should be calling The Galactic Child Protective Services Plot Hole 6: With Brothers like these, who needs enemies?

KILLING A MAIN CHARACTER (Aka "oh my gods they killed Kenny") In congruent to the above Plot Hole. They killed Tech, where's the fallout? Where's the effect? Are you telling me that Mayday, a random one episode clone, was more narratively important than Tech, who's been with us for years? And that's just the written death. The narrative deaths have occurred to all the Bad Batch. this bad ass squad who works together like instinct, is suddenly failing at everything, like its their first day off Kamino. Even though, by the show's own visual environmental storytelling, the Batch have been performing missions together since the first battle of Geonosis. They're more experienced than the Republic Commandos by those tally mark counts in their room wall. And yet, inspite of the visual story telling and the Clone Wars, and every piece of Clone Media prior to this Ever, they're suddenly the big bumbling buffkins who can't operate without running headfirst into the nearest beehive. Character deaths themselves occured... ... From Hunter being a generally snarky, one of the guys, who puts on a show of leadership for the Reg's sake--because a shallowed out parody of Optimus Prime and Captain Rex. ... To Crosshair, a snippy, keen if cruel sniper but with a heart of empathy, reduced to a hyper soldier even without the tumor. When this is the kind of man who would pick a fight with god on toothpick power alone. ... To Wrecker, whom for some reason, suddenly lacks skills he had in the Clone Wars. ... To Tech, who no longer gives out fun facts, or even has an emotional reaction to people getting hurt, like he used to in his first introductory episodes. (Remember the horror he had when he realized the Algorithm had a Human voice?) ... To Echo, once bold and audactious, guised beyind a clone who is a seeming rule stickler--now a bitchy side piece who eventually just leaves instead of having a conversation with the very team that took him in, who reduced his once partner-batchmte Fives to a foot note. One story written death, Five Narrative Deaths, Five Character Deaths, because what was had in the Clone Wars--of which the TBBshow explicitly says its a direct sequel to--clearly wasn't here when this started. Whoever these guys are, they aren't the Bad Batch. Plot Hole 7: Fell at Sunrise and Was replaced by Mirrors

PLOT HOLE: the Rush A special mention plot hole that occurs when you place too much action in too short of time with too little thought. Effectively attempting to turn a TV show, subscription serivce or not, into a 25 minute long tiktok-vine-ytshort. Its exhausting, its Patience killing, it has no Pace; and to believe that this is a good thing, means that you are Also affected by the Rush and should probably pick up a real book or maybe play Pokemon Generation 1 or pick up a text adventure, because you are going too fast for your brain to handle it and it is not good for you. Its commercialism techniques. Don't make them the new norm.

If I've missed any plot holes, lemme know, I'll take a look. Even with my SPECIAL EYES (MY BRAND!) I can't spot everything.

[anghraine]

For my friends who know P&P and not Mass Effect, but are faithfully trying to figure out wtf is going on with the P&P/Mass Effect AU I keep talking about, a guide ;)

In this AU, most of the major characters of P&P are thrown together because they're crew mates on a super cool stealth starship belonging to the human military. As in Mass Effect, the ship is called the Normandy and its crew are on a covert mission to get up to shenanigans that will hopefully save all the species of the galaxy from getting genocided by AI. Some of the P&P crew members in the AU know each other already, but none are related to each other.

Commander Elizabeth Bennet = Elizabeth Bennet, of course; Commander Bennet is a human and the captain of the Normandy, as well as an elite operative known for never backing down from a mission that has any possibility of success, no matter how remote or difficult. She's pleasant and prefers diplomacy to violence, but makes for a relentless enemy if forced into combat, and is skilled with a terrifying array of technologies.

Dr. Illia T'Arzi = Fitzwilliam Darcy; Dr. T'Arzi is a haughty asari and respected expert in ancient civilizations. The asari are a species of monogendered but very feminine-coded, long-lived, blue aliens with innate telekinetic powers (known as biotics) as well as a lot of political power and wealth, which they mostly use to be cautious and arrogant. Dr. T'Arzi has extremely strong and well-trained biotic powers, but prefers to spend her time arguing with people about history.

Lieutenant George Wickham = George Wickham, obviously. Lieutenant Wickham is a human and was one of the first human children to develop biotic powers. He was trained and educated in a charity program run by the asari matriarch Daethyta (=late Mr Darcy).

Gunnery Chief Janani Hackett = Jane Bennet. Chief Hackett is a human, a profoundly kind woman, but tough as nails. She's the niece of a respected human admiral, though she was stubbornly trying to build a career on her own merits when the plot happened.

Jori'Zanah nar Rayya = Georgiana Darcy; Jori is a nervous but highly skilled young quarian on a Pilgrimage (a sort of quarian bat mitzvah) to prove herself to her wandering people when she accidentally discovered information critical to Elizabeth's mission. She's eager to join the crew when invited and particularly admires Dr. T'Arzi.

Sharra Lukarian = Charlotte Lucas; Sharra is an intelligent, observant, and ambitious turian security officer for the central galactic political power, the Citadel. Her lack of influential connections has continually hampered her work, and she sees Elizabeth's offer to join the crew as not only a chance to help save everyone, but also to save her career.

Matriarch Cathrizia = Lady Catherine de Bourgh/Lady Anne Darcy. She is not on the crew but comes up a lot because she's Illia's mother and the most significant ally of the villain.

[talonabraxas]

Lady in Red: Andromeda Galaxy Excerpt from Galactic Light Code Monthly

[kirby-souljourney-au]

HARA IS BAAAAAACK!!!!!!

@artblock-tm I do believe you’d want to see the Her :)

I MADE HER BUFF!!!! And gave her more scars, too! She so prettyyyyyy <3

BUFF BISEXUAL BUNNYGIRL information & hex codes under the cut! 💙💜🩷

Full name: Hara Arachi

Aliases: Halo Knight, Lady Halo

Species: Soul-Matter Astral

Planet of Origination: Jambandra

Age: 78,394 (at time of death) — 85,633 (Spirit)

Height: 6’11”

Gender: Biologically intersex; identifies as Female

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers

Sexuality: Bisexual

S/O: Galacta Iriam (wife)

Family: Parents, Auberon Ivi (cousin), unnamed daughter

One of the four Halcandran-era Galaxy Heroes. Previously a mentor to her cousin, Auberon Ivi.

Married to Galacta Iriam — had one child with him, who was unfortunately never named.

Travels the Universe with Auberon, searching for a place to stay permanently.

Passed away while defending a sparsely-populated planet from Demon Beasts, soon after the beginning of Nightmare’s reign, and about four months before the forming of the Galaxy Soldier Army. Being a stubborn Soul, she soon retuned to the plane of the living as a Spirit, and vowed to continue protecting the Universe for the millennia after her death.

A kind, gentle and motherly sort. She tends to get along well with others, but after her wife’s imprisonment and her own tragic death, her Soul became corrupted, causing adverse effects on her personality and general mental stability. She tries to stay calm and collected, but because of her corruption, having progressed greatly over the last ten thousand years, it’s a bit difficult for her to do so. She tends to act when in distress or angered.

Was born on Jambandra, but moved to its sister planet Halcandra to begin her training as a Knight. After her exile, she moved back to Jambandra, staying there for a few years, but later left with her cousin to travel the wider Universe. One notable place she and Auberon stayed was the planet Earth, for a couple months during ID-F85 Fiktra & ID-F86 Elfilis’ captivity period. They left when Elfilis split apart.

Her weapon of choice varies depending on the situation. Most of the time, she uses Sparkling Stars or a short sword formed using her Soul Magic, but she does occasionally form other weaponry as well.

Hex codes

Shirt — #343B3F (base) | #8CA7B5 (secondary) | #FFCB8F (pattern 1) | #FFE3C4 (pattern 2)

Shorts — #202122 (base) | #FFCB8F (secondary)

Fur & Scars (alive) — #E7EAFF (base) | #567BB8 (fade) | #DAB7CB (inner ears) | #C5CFE2 (scars)

Fur (dead) — #EAEBF1 (base) | #6D788B (fade) | #CAC0C6 (inner ears)

Horns — #B5B5B5

Jewellery — #FFCB8F

Warp Star, Death marks & Soul-Blood — #FF8D27 (please ignore that I didn’t add a reference for her blood cdshdsbjhvhdsukrg)

Eyes (normal) — #344FDB (iris)| #E0E5FF (sclera)

Eyes (corrupted) — #4C547F (iris) | #E4E6EE (sclera)

Wings (alive) — #2758A8 (covert feathers 1, front & back) | #4B84E1 (covert feathers 2, front) | #7BADFF (covert feathers 3, front) | #B2CFFF (flight feathers, front) | #194183 (covert feathers 2, back) | #08295F (flight feathers, back)

Wings (dead) — #45546C (covert feathers 1, front & back) | #6E809C (covert feathers 2, front) | #9AA9C2 (covert feathers 3, front) | #C4CDDB (flight feathers, front) | #313E53 (covert feathers 2, back) | #1C2637 (flight feathers, back)