#lieutenant wren

[booasaur]

See (2019) - 3x08

[queenmaghra]

[wanderlust-songbird]

Some of my muses’ name meanings

//It originally had more than this, but I’m not willing to go through all that again after Tumblr ate it the first time. So I’m only going to do 4 & may do more at a later time.

Vega Gennesis Lustirra of Lyrae

Vega - In Arabic, it can either mean "falling/swooping vulture” or “the descending/falling eagle”. A variation of this is Falling Star. In Spanish, it either mean “a large plain or valley”, typically a fertile and grassy one, or “Dweller of the meadow” or “One who lives on a plain”. There is another meaning of Pre-Roman origin that happens to be a title for Jesus’s mother, Mary, which is “Maria de la Vega”. 

Gennesis - A respelling of the name Genesis. In Latin, it means “generation, creation” while it means “In the beginning” in Hebrew.

Lustirra - It’s a combination of the words “Luster” & “Terra”. But another influence of this last name creation happens to be “Tirra-lirra”, which means “an imitation of a musical sound“.

Lyrae - From the star, Alpha Lyrae.

Corvallis Eldridge Uriel Miosottis

Corvallis - It’s basically a name of a city in the state of Oregon. But from I’ve read, it means “heart of the valley“ in composed Latin.

Eldridge - In both German & English, it means “Sage ruler” or “Old or Wise ruler”.

Uriel - A name of one of the angels. It can mean “Light of God/God is my light”, “Angel of light”, or “Flame of God/God’s Flame”

Miosottis - A respelling of Myosotis, which is the genus of herbs/plants. One of these plants in that genus happens to be Forget-Me-Nots.

Altair “Kestrel” Cadogan Segoviano

Altair - Means “Eagle/Flying Eagle” or “Falcon” in Arabic while it can mean “Star” in Greek.

Cadogan - It’s of Welsh origin that means “Battle glory” or “Honor”

Segoviano -  There’s a personal reason as to why this is his last name. Anyway, the last name was inspired by the city of Segovia in Castile. But the name of the city is of unknown origin. A shortened version of this name (Segovian) means sepulcher in Basque. Though, “Sego” does mean “Victory” in Celtic, while “Via” has that same meaning in Roman.

[BONUS] Kestrel - A Nickname that comes from the American Kestrel, which is the smallest falcon in North America.

Eridan “Wren” Amitornis Stigander

Eridan - From Eridanus, which is a modern constellation. 

Amitornis - A respelling of Amytornis, which is the scientific name of the grasswren.

Stigander - A respelling of Stigandr. It is of Old Norse origin that means “Wanderer” or “stepping/treading one”

[BONUS] Wren - A nickname that is a reference to the first part of the grasswren’s scientific name, “Amytornis”.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Scorched Earth.

A Grab Bag For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Warrior x Reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of War/Death, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Kidnapping.

You saw the torchlight hours before he reached your cottage.

Bright and brilliant, a red stain ebbing through the trees and bleeding into the dark sky. The forest was dense, the canopy stifling, yet somehow, the light he and his soldiers carried was awful enough to pierce through it all, to burn away every behind them and fill the open air with thick, choking smoke. You could’ve tried to flee, it wasn’t as if you couldn’t guess what was coming for you, but you didn’t keep a horse, and you knew better than to stave off the inevitable. He’d catch you, no matter how far you ran, no matter how many times you refused him. He’d promised as much, the first time he declared that you’d be his.

Rather than escape, you stayed where you were, perched on the rotting wooden steps leading up to your door and watching the oncoming flare. His scouts, dressed in black and prone to circling your meager home like vultures, reached you before he did, then sergeants, piling in by the dozen, well-armed and jeering and carrying his insignia with a sort of heady arrogance. Finally, he emerged from the growth, surrounded by his lieutenants and mounted on a sleek, grey steed larger than any you’d ever seen before. He was a far cry from how you’d seen him last – his bandages gone, his pitch-black hair grown down to his shoulders, the rags you’d been able to lend him traded out for shining armor clean enough to catch the torchlight and glow scarlet. A great-sword sat at his hip, two more curved blades crossed over his back, but you couldn’t seem to find much joy in his fortune. Not when you’d soon be counted among one of his many, many precious things.

As he dismounted, the movements practiced to the point of thoughtlessness, you rose to meet him, hyper-aware that this would likely be the last time you’d be able to stand on equal ground. “Wren.”

It wasn’t his name. You’d misheard him, the first time you asked; made what you could out of the slurred syllables he’d been able to spit out and never found the time to look back. Even when he started to recover, when he was able to hold onto consciousness for longer than a minute at a time and more than just your clumsy stitching held the jagged cut stretching from his shoulder to his hip shut, he always failed to correct you. His real name – Wyvern, given to him as an unknown orphan after he slayed his namesake and delivered its head to a king who’d let him massacre armies and rampage through the countryside as he pleased – was something you had to learn the day he left, the day he told you who he was and why you’d found him bleeding out in a stream all those months ago. He’d asked you to come with him, back to the castle, and through tears, you’d told him that you wouldn’t have helped him if you’d known you were saving the life of a murderer. He’d tried to kiss you, and you slapped him and told him to get out of your cottage.

It wasn’t his name, but he smiled like it was, taking a step toward you. His soldiers started to close in, but he held up a hand, keeping them at bay. “Beloved.” It was a familiar petname. It used to make you blush, stammer, want to make flower crowns and kick your feet and learn to play some ridiculous stringed instrument. Now, it just made your stomach turn, your vision dim at the edges with rage. “I’m sorry I took so long to return to you. I had to gather a few friends – thought you should meet the future guests of our wedding.”

There was cheer from his soldiers, a flash of a grin from Wren. You stiffened, squaring your shoulders, but he remained unaffected, his expression only softening as you forced yourself to respond. “I meant what I said. I could never love a man with blood on his hands.”

If he heard you over the milling of his soldiers, the crackling of his torches and the distant sounds of the forest’s nightlife, he clearly wasn’t listening. Rather he closed the remaining space between you and him and took you in his arms. Your feet were off the ground in a moment, your chest against his chest in another, being spun idly as he let out a throaty laugh. “God,” he sighed, when he finally came to a stop. The sharp corners of his plated armor dug into your skin at odd angles, and his hold on your waist was tight enough to bruise. You’d had to ask him to be gentle before, to mind his inhuman strength when he touched you, but it was a lesson he just couldn’t seem to take to heart. “I missed the sound of your voice. I’ll have to take you with me on my next campaign - I don’t know if I could stand to leave you at court for all that time.”

“Put me down,” you hissed, hitting his shoulders with as much force as you could manage. He abided you, but didn’t let go of you – just moving his hold from your hips to your hands, taking them in his own before you had time to pull away.

“I couldn’t. I absolutely couldn’t. Most of the knights are absolute bastards, and you’re too sweet – they’d try to take you for themselves in a heartbeat. No, I can’t let you out of my sight for a moment, can I?” He paused, his face lighting up with apparent zeal. “You’ll adore the castle. I’ve already secured a cottage on the edge of the grounds, and you’ll have full reign of the gardens. We won’t have to—”

“Stop.” You attempted to wrench yourself out of his vice-grip, and when that failed, let out a ragged groan, tears already forming in the corners of your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“That’s not true.” His smile didn’t so much as waver. “You saved my life. You told me that you loved me, and I love you, too. How would either of us ever be happy if we were seperated?”

Something deep in your chest ached. It was impossible to look at him and not picture the countless mornings you’d woken up by his side, the countless days you’d passed teaching him how fish and tend to a garden, the countless nights you’d spent bundled beside a fire sharing stories with a man you thought you’d loved. It was impossible not to think about what he’d done and wish you’d driven that knife into his stomach yourself.

“I can’t love someone like you,” you said, finally, because you couldn’t bear to say anything else. “And I’m not leaving my home.”

At that, you could’ve sworn you saw something register in his dark eyes. He was quiet, his enthusiasm fading, and for a second, you thought he might’ve understood. For a second, you thought he might call away his soldiers, get back on his horse, and leave you to your quiet suffering.

Then, he leaned forward, his lips coming to rest against the top of your head. “Beloved,” his voice was low, stifled your skin. “You don’t have a home. Not without me.”

Abruptly, he pulled away from you, raising a hand and looking toward his soldiers. While you were left in the dark, they knew their signal, surging forward in a chaotic wave of yelling and footsteps. You pressed your form against Wren’s side, clenching your eyes shut and bracing yourself, but there was only a burst of heat, a sudden visible even through your eyelids. Another kiss, this one pressed into your cheek and chased with a soft chuckle.

When you could bring yourself to look, you found not a volley of arrows or a hundred swords all pointed at your neck, but your cottage engulfed in flame, shining golden in the oppressive night. Your shoulders fell, your mouth opening, but you failed to make a sound. Wren wasn’t as stunned, grinning as he pulled you close and pressed his lips into yours, the kiss delicate and tortuous all at once.

“Don’t worry,” he muttered as he pulled away, his tone so soft and so gentle, you could almost tell ignore the blood-soaked cruelty lingering just underneath it.

“The only home you need is with me.”

[legomocfodder]

It's been 2,000 days since the finale of Star Wars Rebels, and with the Ahsoka show having premiered this week I wanted to celebrate my posting all of my custom Star Wars Rebels minifigs (plus some official ones to round out the groups)

1st: The Ghost crew, posed like they are in Sabine's mural

2nd: Gregor, Ahsoka, Rex, and Wolffe

3rd: AP-5, Kallus, Commander Sato, Mart Mattin, and Wedge

4th: Numa, Jai Kell, Quarrie, Ryder Azadi, Ketsu Onyo, and Princess Leia

5th: Tristan Wren, Fenn Rau, Bo-Katan, Commander Hawk, and Gar Saxon

6th: Maul, 5th Brother, Grand Inquisitor, 7th Sister, and 8th Brother

7th: Governor Pryce, Brom Titus, Grand Admiral Thrawn, Admiral Konstantine, Rukh, and Lieutenant Lyste

[kalevalakryze]

Firebird

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Ahsoka (TV) Pairings: Shin Hati/ Sabine Wren Characters: Sabine Wren, Shin Hati, Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger, Hera Syndulla, Ghost Crew 2.0,  Warnings: Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Explosions Notes: For Whumptober Day  16 and @sabineweek Day 2 Prompts: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” | Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.” + Icarus Word Count: 3,571 AO3 Link: Here!

“Sabine, they’ve got TIE’s taking off.” Ezra’s voice rushed over comms, voice strained from exertion from whatever fight he’d gotten himself into.

“Copy that, do we have eyes on which shuttle is carrying the Lieutenant?” The Mandalorian dropped her rangefinder and rose her eyes to the sky, boot pressed firmly against an incapacitated trooper’s throat where she’d engaged on the rooftops. 

“It will be the one with a burn across the third quadrant of its left wing.” Shin followed, and while her voice was much calmer than Ezra’s, Sabine could feel the strain of her altercation across their bond in the force, feel the ebb and flow of the force where Shin used its power to keep plastoid covered troopers off of their closing position, flowing so freely beside Ezra’s that despite the odds being against them, they moved like a finely oiled machine. 

“On it,” Sabine cast her fuel gauge a wary look, there was just enough in her tanks that she might be fine, and from the screaming of a TIE fighter arcing through the air, she knew there was no time to top off at the Ghost. A TIE swirled overhead, left wing sparking and burning from a lightsaber having cut through it on takeoff. 

“Kark it,” Sabine grumbled, tapping at her gauge with a shake of her head. “We ball.” The woman took to the sky smoothly, jet fuel sparking into a high flame as she dumped more to keep up with the fighter.

The Ghost soared through the sky, streaking past Sabine and offering her a chance to grab on to Chopper’s head to save some fuel as fire was concentrated against the shields and engines to slow down the surviving Imperial’s ascent. 

Before the Ghost could pull away, Sabine was throwing herself from the ship’s hull, fingers brushing out as her jetpack sputtered, wrapping around one of the handles poking out past the hull to yank her weight against it, boots scrambling to push against the durasteel, hooking into the space in between ports to keep herself steady.

“Sabine, you need to hurry!” Hera called, exasperated as she pitched the ghost to the side, rolling out of the way just a hair away from the path of plasma as the TIE opened fire. 

“Work in progress, Hera!” Sabine shouted into her comms, hooking her fingers into the latch of the tie to stabilize before she could dig through a pouch on her belt, revealing her stack of the newest mixture of thermal detonators and the dye packs attached to the explosives. “Hello, beautifuls.” She breathed, fingers ghosting over the neatly stacked explosives. 

Piling them into a fistful, Sabine started planting them each, using the force to sail them across to the inside supports of the fighter’s wings, lining the hatch with enough to blow the top and settling the last couple against the engines, just in case somehow, the hull would survive. 

They rose closer to the upper atmosphere, Sabine’s helmet automatically clicking itself shut and releasing pressure to adjust. “Hey guy, I don’t have freefloating in space on my bucket list for the year,” She grumbled, making quick work of getting her charges set. 

“Sabine!” Several panicked voices hollered her names, staticy over comms the further she got out of range. The Mandalorian’s head shot to the side in time to watch an X-Wing swing in for a strafing run, she didn’t know the pilot, and wasn’t linked into their comms, but she could hear Hera on their open channel, ripping in to the pilot to get them to stop. 

It was too late, however, plasma scorched through the air, singing the air with a heavy smell of ozone. Sabine watched the blue lasers arc towards her before the Ghost could sweep in to incapacitate the fighter. Her legs moved too slow when she pushed off the hull, body turning as she fired up her jetpack, propelling herself away from the fighter half a second before the lasers struck the TIE and ignited her charges. 

Sabine’s head turned in time to watch the colorful, fiery explosion behind her; at least it looked as cool as she figured it would, she’d have to make sure she saved the clip in her helmet to watch later. 

Her jetpack sputtered mid flight, dropping her right into the path of the first shockwave. She didn’t have much chance to see the TIE go down, when paint speckled across her visor and then she was sent into a freefall, the resounding shockwaves hitting her like brick walls with a personal agenda against her existence. 

She was floating in a limbo of dizzy and peaceful, limbs too heavy to move, and her eyelids felt glued shut with weight pressing into her eye sockets to keep her from opening them.

There was a bustle of activity floating into her ears, fading like her grip on the world around her. She wanted to snap at all the people moving around her. Couldn’t they tell she was trying to sleep? A loud, persistent beeping ground away at her nerves, but she was useless in willing her body to shut off whatever alarm was going off.

The beeping grew higher in pitch, there were no breaks in the thudding tone it had carried before. At least the movement in the room seemed to cease, a pin could drop in the silence and bated breath of every body in the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Now she could get some sleep.

“Sabine.” There was a distortion in the voice that called out to her, warbling through the very core of her being, through the will of the force. Shin’s voice rang in the notes of their bond, scratchy and deep, but the other voice, the notes she could pick out, a tone she’d only heard in her dreams, a voice and a face she was terrified of forgetting, that had been harder and harder to pick out every day.

She wanted to snap her eyes open, to fly out of bed and run into her buir’s arms, to do something but the stones inside of her skin wouldn’t give her a chance to budge. 

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, me’suum’ika.” Shin’s voice sounded strained, and too far away, like their bond was growing stagnant in Sabine’s indecision. Fingers wrapped around her hand, warm where they sparked against the unbeaten pulse point against her wrist. “You promised,” Their voice wavered with emotion that they fought to keep concealed, Sabine hadn’t heard that tone since they’d gotten her back from the Bandits. 

Promises meant more to Shin than even their connection to the force, Sabine knew that better than anyone, and well… She intended to keep her word. Clan Wren would still be waiting for her, at the end; The Manda would not go anywhere, the cosmic force would still connect all beings, but if she walked out on Shin now… What kind of Mandalorian would she be? Surely not one who deserved to join her people in the afterlife they’d all strived for.

Sabine stopped struggling to see Ursa, there was no where she could go where her mother would not be able to reach, and if the unthinkable happened and she did somehow forget the timber of her voice or the sharpness of her face, she knew there were hundreds of others walking across the galaxy who would be more than happy to help her remember.

Shin’s hand started to slip from Sabine’s palm; She couldn’t move to reach out for them like she wanted, she didn’t want them to leave her either, didn’t want to see someone else give up on her. Someone was crying, voices were murmuring, she could hear the charge of shock paddles-

The first beep of the heart monitor was hard won, an exhaustive struggle that had the same reaction in the room as the flatline. Oxygen forced back into her lungs painfully, and warm fingers brushed against her pulse point once more, squeezing at her wrist to feel the next thud of her heart in her veins themselves. The tension in the room was cut with each thud and each successful breath, pain reigniting in her body in the feeling of broken bones and half sealed abrasions.

“Better,” She could hear the relief in Shin’s voice as their fingers interlocked with the limpness of her own, squeezing her hand even as the activity picked back up around them.

Ahsoka’s presence washed over her in their own bond, another string that she’d familiarized herself with, the calm soaring feeling that came with each interaction the Master and Apprentice shared through their woven destinies. 

“Prep her for the bacta tank,” A medic called out, unfamiliar voice ringing in her ears as cold gloved hands started touching her, though from the warmth seeping into her hand, she was able to rest easy knowing no one had moved Shin, at least until after the calm and quiet suggestion of sleep that had been passed through their bond, and the promise that she would wake up on the other side… eventually.

There was no way to gauge how much time had passed, but every now and then, Sabine would gain an awareness of the real world happening around her. Of Shin’s back pressed into the cool glass of her bacta tank, steadfast in their post as her protector. 

“Shin, she won’t wake up anytime soon,” Ahsoka’s voice floated through the void, in her mind’s eye, Sabine could make out the vision of Ahsoka stepping into the medbay, arms crossed over her chest and a carefully impassive look on her face; Ahsoka learned just as fast as Sabine had that Shin didn’t like sympathies, but she also knew that if Ahsoka’s distaste of Shin’s actions showed, the Gray Apprentice would close themselves off further and often turn to violence to defend their actions or beliefs. 

“You need to go take care of yourself,” Sabine could hear the lightness of the Togruta’s footsteps as she came to a stop in front of the tank, could feel piercing blue eyes on her suspended form, as if Ahsoka knew that Sabine had some awareness of the world around her. 

“I will not leave,” Shin was closed off to them visually, she could not find a way to bring some vision of the other woman to her eye, though she assumed, from the unease rolling off of Ahsoka and the concern in her tone, that her wolf wasn’t doing the best with her incapacitation. This must have been an argument the two force-sensitives found themselves in often, as Shin’s voice curbed on dangerous, the air Sabine could not feel filling with the tension of a hand curling around a saber hilt. 

“There is no reason to fight, Shin,” Ahsoka called, calling for calm across their own unstable bond; Her second apprentice varied greatly to the Mandalorian, and Ahsoka had never been able to determine if it had been Baylan’s teachings, or the influence of her time with the bandits that had them so willing to fight in a situation it did not call for. “She isn’t going to like waking up and seeing you like this.”

“Then it will not be the worst thing I have done to her.” They replied, and while there wasn’t a hint of regret, their tone took on something somber that Sabine wasn’t a fan of. The Mandalorian could feel the brush of their muddled presence, reaching out to the anchor point of their bond, to the scar that entwined them together forever. 

Drifting off to the comfortable thrum of their force bond being brushed against, Sabine was only half aware of the Togruta sweeping defeatedly from the medbay. 

Consciousness did not find Sabine when they emptied the bacta tank and pulled her from it, nor did it find her as she was cleaned up and reassessed, as what wounds were left had been set to heal on their own, with minimal medical interference, now that her body would need to fight on its own once again, enjoying her quiet limbo over the thought of returning her active mind to the real world.

The first time her eyes opened in weeks she was met with dim lights and near silence. 

Bandages wrapped firmly around her abdomen, criss crossing against her back where the jetpack had burned and shrapnel had made homes in her skin, now almost entirely healed after her extended nap. Sabine gave her muscles an experimental flex to ensure she could still move, fingertips touching and toes wriggling under the warm blankets; someone must have just recently changed the thin hospital sheets for ones straight from the warmer. Her movement brought the reminder of pain, aggravating sore muscle under the haze of protection offered by the medicine pumping through her IV.

Tired golden eyes scanned the rest of the room next. There was a raw set of armor, seemingly fresh from a forge, stacked in a corner next to weapons crates, where she could see Westar power cells placed carefully on top of the locked containers, and a newer model of a jetpack she couldn’t recall the name of leaning up against it all. 

Shin was settled into a hard-backed chair shoved right up against her cot, knees pulled up to their chest and a datapad sitting against them, fingers idly swiping along a document that Sabine couldn’t focus her gaze on. Her wolf looked exhausted, Sabine couldn’t tell how much of the darkness around her eyes was eye makeup, or bags from lack of sleep. Their hair was in disarray, even the braid carefully tied and sitting at their collarbone seemed frayed and rushed, as if  tying it had been a mere afterthought to something more important. 

The armor strapped to their arms and legs was filthy, burns scorched across unpainted metal and deep groves went unfilled, a state Shin hadn’t even let become of themselves when they’d all been stranded on Peridea. 

The only indication Sabine had that they’d showered or changed clothes even once since they’d gone after Thrawn’s contact had been the dark blue of Ahsoka’s tunic bunched up around their torso, leaving their bare arms on display (which, Sabine would never complain about, if only Shin wasn’t wearing gauntlets and pauldrons strapped tight to her bicep), and the way pants so clearly borrowed from Ezra were tied tight around her waist, bunched up and stuffed into her boots with their greaves strapped awkwardly around the extra fabric. 

“You look like Bantha shit,” The Mandalorian croaked tersely, wincing at the feeling of glass in her dried out throat. Silver eyes flashed to meet her open eyes immediately, the datapad clattering to the floor in the scramble of their legs to push outwards to turn themselves to face her.

“You look dead,” Their voice sounded as equally rough as Sabine’s own, bringing a teasing smile to tug at the purple haired woman’s lips. 

“What, didn’t-” A dry cough rattled her chest, she only managed to turn her head to the side to cough into the pillow, her arms still felt like they were full of beskar. “Didn’t have anything nice to say to anyone? Didn’t say anything at all?” It was meant to be tasing, but the pull of their lips into what little resemblance of a pout they would allow answered enough. 

“I’ll go get the medic.” They stood sourly to pick up the datapad, tossing it into the seat they’d been occupying for gotal’ad knows how long. 

Sabine finally reached out, atrophied muscles protesting even as her fingers latched around the cold metal of their wrist. “Wait…” 

They did, turning to glower at them with a rage that had too much vulnerability under the surface, weakness they did not want the Mandalorian to be privy too, even if she could feel it in the knot of burnt out nerves in her abdomen. “Would you lay with me, and just… forget the world a minute? Ten out of ten recommend.” 

Shin’s weight shifted between their feet uncomfortably, even as Sabine forced herself to move, to make room in the hospital bed that felt both too big and too small. “You need the medic,” They insisted, but it wasn’t a denial of the offer; Shin looked exhausted, and the prospect of laying down seemed enough that they’d be willing to let Sabine get away with just a few more minutes without being poked and prodded by medics. 

“I need you more right now, I’m not going anywhere,” She let go of their wrist, hoping the invitation was  enough to keep them around. IVs and wires were moved too carefully when they’d finally relented, though Sabine could feel the tightness in their muscles ease as their head dropped back against her pillow.

Shin was laying ramrod straight next to her, as if moving would break her, afraid to do anything that could hurt her what a softie, stabbing people one day, then playing statue to avoid inconveniencing them almost two years down the line.. 

“C’mere, Kurs’kaded.” Another grunt of exertion as she forced her arms to move, though they were quick in how they turned to cave into the touch the minute Sabine offered, tucking themselves up into her side as their face found their spot in the crook of her neck, fisting the fabric of the uncomfortable shirt in their fists as their nose crinkled. 

“You don’t smell right,” They complained in a quiet whisper, bringing a tired giggle from the older woman.

“Plenty of time to fix that later, doubt anyone’s been able to nail my skin care routine during my nap,” Sabine’s fingers brushed through their hair, relaxing more and more with how their shoulders eased and the way the force around them felt like it started to clear. “Speaking of naps…”

“You need a medic,” But their voice was already thick with sleep, breath soft where it began to even out against Sabine’s neck, the offer of safety in the arms they’d been missing for so long too enticing; they couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept. 

“You spent so long watching after me, let me return the favor, just for a bit.. Someone will come along eventually.” It didn’t take Shin long at all to nod off with the promise, and the press of her fingers against Sabine’s scar to ground themselves to her life probably wasn’t detrimental to assuring her of the Mandalorian’s survival either. 

“You’re awake,” Sabine’s attention was pulled from the sleeping blonde for the first time in hours, stopping her thousandth trace of the constellations craved across their skin in beauty marks and freckles. 

“Or you’re just tripping really hard right now,” Sabine teased in a quiet whisper, watching Ahsoka as the woman moved to lower herself quietly into the seat closest to her. 

Ahsoka’s lips pursed, clearly fighting a smile as her hand came to rest on the open space of the mattress between them, itching towards touching Sabine to verify for herself just how alive her Apprentice was. Sabine gave a quiet, fake dramatic sigh as she brought her hand down to rest overtop of Ahsoka’s, much smaller than the Togruta’s as she curled her fingers around the older woman’s. “What did you guys even do while I’ve been out?”

“Well… Some of us-” Her eyes flickered to Shin before coming back to Sabine with a knowing look. “Waited for you to come back.” 

Sabine offered a nod of her head in understanding as she bought her other hand from Shin’s hair to rub circles into their back. “What about everyone else?”

“Mmm. Ezra and I handled the Imperial cell; There were whispers of a New First Order, but it doesn’t seem as if they’re organized enough, not after our last round of strikes.” Ahsoka shifted, hand slipping from Sabine’s to fill the empty canteen that had been sitting, just out of reach, toppled over when Sabine had reached for it in the force, too weak to grab it with her abilities, and too disappointed when she’d found it empty.

Water was filled and passed over gratefully, as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing the slow, heavy breathing from the slumbering wolf; the only reaction they had to Sabine gulping down water was to press their face closer to the movement of her throat and to slip under her shirt, chasing the warmth that had been steadily rising in the older woman’s skin. 

“How are you feeling?” Ahsoka asked at last as she returned to her chair, taking the canteen when Sabine had finally finished with it. 

“I’m not going anywhere for a hot minute, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sabine promised, knowing that she had zero intention of almost dying any time soon, and that she doubted she’d find a return to the battlefield for at least a month while she figured out the limits her wrecked body could handle.

“Next time, don’t push yourself so hard. It was a close one,” 

“You’re one to talk.”

“Sometimes, the student teaches the Master, you know.” Ahsoka’s facial marking rose with the knowing smirk she offered, before she shook her head and rose. “You should get more rest while you can, I’m sure the medics will come to check on you once they believe Shin is asleep and won’t attack them again.”

“.... again?...” 

“Go back to sleep, Sabine,” 

[n3wtiepatootie]

Winged COD au anyone?

Ive put some thought into this BTW.

----

Now. There is none of that whole "omg you have the rare unicorn princess alpha pegasus wolf Guardian ruler gold wings 😱😱😱"

You can see pink wings, but those are colored by wing chalk. Think of the chalk like hair dye.

To go further into depth, brightly colored wings will look out of place in places like Russia, but be more natural in places like Brazil. It's a matter of environment and genetics that tell what your wing pattern would be.

It is a possibility to have two wing patterns mixed together. Snowy owl and Scarlet Macaw for example. This is possible because travel is more common since everyone has wings, so say someone from up North with the snowy owl pattern fell in love with someone down south with the scarlet macaw pattern. While it isn't common for the wing patterns to mix if the two were to have a child, it's a possibility. It's more common if they had twins. Pattern mixes are about as rare as twins, but you don't need twins for it to occur, it's just less common in people that aren't twins. If that makes any sense.

Now, wings aren't like genuine bird types, yknow? The patterns are just classified as such. But like you could have parrot wings with the pattern of an owl if you get what I'm saying. Wings are more so classified by the pattern and fit into different styles/classes.

Now to move onto the cod characters themselves. (More importantly 141, but shhhh...)

-----

Ghost

• Wing Pattern: Bluebird

Now, usually, I've seen him made out with black wings or wings that match his tough demeanor. Something along those lines.

HOWEVER. In a stroke of genius, I decided for him to have blue wings, more specifically that of a bluebird. However 2.0, he's embarrassed of his blue wings, thinking it takes away from his y'know 'big scary lieutenant' status since most soldiers have 'natural' feather colors so he uses wing chalk to color them black. Gives it more character than just giving him black wings-

He hates going on water missions because he hates the feeling of the waterproof chalk.

-----

Soap

• Wing Pattern: Cardinal

It made sense. Also, it's a plot point in a way. Soap isn't embarrassed of the red, has never ever chalked his wings. So when he joins 141, him showing off his red wings just sorta helps Ghost realize his blue wings aren't anything to be ashamed of.

-----

Price

• Wing Pattern: Eurasian Eagle Owl

I can just see it.

-----

Gaz

• Wing Pattern: Falcon

I can see it, but I can't explain myself.

-----

Laswell

• Wing Pattern: Sparrow

Refer to Price and Gaz for reasoning. I have quite a few of these in all honesty-

-----

Valeria

• Wing Pattern: Quetzal

I had a debate with myself over macaw wings or quetzal for our lord and drug lady, Valeria. However, in the end, quetzal won and I could see her with the quetzal wings more than macaw.

-----

Graves

• Wing Pattern: Eagle.

AMERICAAAA RAHHHHHH. GUNSSSS. TANKSSSSS. FREEEDDDOOOOMMMM. HAMBURGERRRRRR. USA. USA. USA. USA. USA.

And now back to your regularly scheduled program.

-----

Shepherd

No wings.

Just like how he has no hair, common sense, or dignity. He also has no wings because he's just so cutie patootie (I'm lying to you.)

-----

Rudy and Alejandro

• Wing Patterns:

Rudy - Hyacinth Macaw

Alejandro - Scarlet Macaw

I genuinely put these two in the same category section thing so I can tell you they are macaw buddies. That is all.

-----

Farah

• Wing Pattern: House Wren

This is another one of those it just makes sense to me typa things.

-----

HASSAN & AQ

The only reason they are even here is so I can explain my thought process on such a force. This randomly came to me as I pondered the desolate streets of my quiet town in a lovely thought as I sang along to the ghost artist, Bruno Mars.

I had the brilliant thought bubble of what if this infinite supply of enemy troopers were so incompetent where in order to show you are apart of AQ, you had to have one of your wings cut clean off.

And therefore, that is now canon in my winged cod au.

AQ are so out of their minds that in order to show you are apart of said force, you must give up an entire wing.

-----

I gift thee, ✨winged cod au✨

(Btw, the aus name is Feathertips)

I will speak more on this if it is wanted fr fr

[jennadknowsbest-blog]

New OC Mandalorian you guys are free to cosplay. This time around, we have a member of Clan Wren. Expect character profiles for her siblings in the near future.

Name: Hiba Sintas Bridger Wren

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Year of Birth: 12 ABY

Place of Birth: Lothal

Parents: Ezra Bridger (Father) and Sabine Wren (Mother)

Siblings: Minerva (Sister), Kanan (Brother), Eleni (Sister)

House: Kryze

Clan: Wren (Formally of House Viszla but switch affiliation with House Kryze by Countess Sabine Wren, Hiba’s mother, in 10 ABY.)

Titles: Princess of Knownwrest, Heiress-Apparent to mother Countess Sabine Wren, Nite Owl lieutenant, and Governor of Lothal (During the Age of Resistance)

Appearance:

•5’3

•Light brown Skin (Middle Eastern X East Asian)

•Athletic but sickly

•Round face

•Has natural navy blue hair with a mixture of midnight black but tends to dye it blue and white in honor of her mother’s friend and master Ahsoka Tano.

•Brown eyes

Notable Skills:

Combat: Hiba’s combat skills are a mixture of Mandalorian and Jedi in which she, in spite of being in poor chronic health, is trained in various but not all martial arts skills, due to the need of being careful when it comes to her condition. Aside from being able to use various Webstar blasters and a deactivator hold-out pistol in both battles and missions, she’s highly skilled in lightsaber usage and has previously wielded both of her parents’ and Ahsoka Tano’s sabers before forging her own.

Athleticism: Although limited, due to life-long health issues, Hiba is very athletic thanks to training under the watchful eye of both her mother and Ahsoka Tano.

•Intelligence: Above-average intelligence, excelled well at the newly reestablished Royal Academy as a youth though she has struggled a bit with training along side her clan.

•Sorcery: Hiba is regarded as the first Mandalorian to practice witchcraft in over a century and her usage of sorcery has allowed to heal both people and animals who are sick or injured. In addition, she has also used magic in battle and just for fun. She’s even credited her use of magic to help heal from asthmatic attacks that has limited her combative skills.

•Humanitarian Skills: Although she’s not politician, Hiba’s a great humanitarian who is focused on improving the lives of people in need, which was how she was named governor of Lothal in 32 ABY. As governor, Hiba worked towards increasing pay raise for all working citizens and their families along with making both health care and education free for all citizens who live on the planet regardless of their income. She also worked with the New Republic to bring Imperial officials to justice for heinous crimes they’ve committed against the galaxy, which included two surviving members of Clan Saxon for their role in the Mandalorian Civil War by helping to reproduce her mother’s weapon “The Duchess”.

•Artistic Skills: Just like her mother, Hiba is a talented artist but her skills go far beyond painting and graffiti art. She’s very well known for creating spectacular fashion designs that celebrate and honor Mandalorian culture and history.

•Force Sensitive: Yes, like both of her parents. Hiba has the ability to communicate with animals, and grow new flora on “barren” planets in order to make them hospitable for both people and animals to settle in.

Additional Information:

•She’s the oldest of four children born to Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger-Wren.

•Was born just nine months after her parents reunited on Peridea. However, it would be another two years before they got married on Lothal.

•Shortly before she was born, her mother took her place as Knownwrest’s new countess with the promise to rebuild her clan, help with the reconstruction of Mandalore, and overlook the building of several towns and cities on Knownwrest.

•Developed asthma when she was eight months old and has a history of falling suddenly ill as a result of asthma attacks during missions.

•Has a very close-knit relationship with her entire family but is very close with her father.

•Is currently betrothed to Prince Alexi Djarin-Kryze. Although the union was prearranged by their families without their input, the two are pretty much in love.

•She first trained under her father Ezra to learn how to use the force and wield lightsabers before going on to train with Ahsoka Tano. However, like her fiancé before her, she has no intention of joining any Jedi Order.

•She first began practicing witchcraft under the guidance of Nite Sister Merrin when she was eight years old after suffering a near-fatal asthmatic attack.

•Due to being limited in combat skills, Hiba prefers using both her magic and light saber when situations call for them.

•Like her mother and maternal grandfather before her, Hiba is a gifted artist and is renowned for her work in fashion and graffiti.

Strengths:

•She has used her artistic skills to create various outfits and dresses for her people, which includes her future royal in-laws when they’re not wearing armor in public settings. In addition, she has created various graffiti artwork that has been displayed all across Mandalorian Space.

•Although she does use and possess a single Webstar blaster and a deactivator, she doesn’t use them often when she’s in battle, due to her common use of wielding her lightsaber and performing magic.

•She has inherited her father’s compassion for others.

•As a Mandalorian witch, she has a wealth of knowledge when it comes to magic and how to use it. However, she only allows herself to use her magic for two things: battle and helping people

•Her Humanitarian skills and desire for justice has allowed to make her way to becoming Lothal’s first Mandalorian governor.

Weaknesses:

•She can be sickly at times, which can make it difficult for her to keep up with her friends and family.

•Can be both stubborn and sarcastic at times, which can turn people off.

•Due to her ability to use magic, she has been taken advantage of by rival clans who wanted to use her to get back at her mother over “Duchess” weapon, which has since been destroyed.

•Has limited combat skills due to her illness.

•Compared to both of her parents, Hiba is far more prone to the dark side of the force., which is why she needs to turn to Alexi, her fiancé for guidance on how to prevent herself from accidentally finding herself on the wrong course.

Armor:

•Helmet: Similar to her mother’s but inherited from her late maternal grandmother Countess Ursa Wren, Hiba’s helmet is decorated with the traditional Clan Wren imagery of bird-like jaig eyes with symbol of Clan Kryze, which serves as ode to Clan Wren’s current affiliation with House Kryze after centuries of being part of House Viszla.

•Chest and Neck Pieces: Inherited from her late maternal grandmother like the helmet, Hiba reforged them to resemble a typical Nite Owl chest armor set but with a characteristics that similar to that of her mother’s. In fact, she has even decorated her chest armor with star bird and three-line decals that are similar to the ones her mother had on her armor when she was member of the Rebellion.

•Pauldrons: Hiba has two different signets on her Pauldrons. The first one on her left is a Nite Owl signet since she serves The Nite Owls as its lieutenant. The second signet is the “Rebellion” symbol, an ode to both of her parents and their service to the Rebellion.

•Gauntlets: Although they resemble Jedi bracers similar to the ones Ahsoka Tano wears, Hiba had them modified by Princess Mirta Djarin-Kryze, her future sister-in-law, to have the left bracer be equipped with a hidden knight that’s used for combat and the right bracer to have a taser that shocks enemies to the point of stunning them.

•Hand armor: Similar to her mother’s.

•Thigh Plates: Typical nite-owl styled thigh plates.

•Knee Armor: Galaxy-styled like her maternal grandmother’s.

•Shin Guards: Similar to her mother’s but both sides feature the original clan wren signet.

•Jet pack: Similar to the one her mother had when she was part of the Rebellion.

Armor Color Scheme:

•Light Gold

•Blue Rhapsody

•Heather

. Oxford Blue

Soft Parts:

•Flight Suit: Similar to her mother’s

Belt:

•Similar to her maternal grandmother’s but with a yellow waist sash around it.

Weapons in Possession:

* One Westar blaster

* One Deactivator Pistol

* One light saber with a design that’s a mix of her mother’s light saber, Ahsoka’s “Fulcrum” saber and the Dark Saber. The crystal used for the saber is blue.

[lifblogs]

Deal: Chapter 3

AI-less Whumptober: Day 4 Hiding An Injury | Betrayal | Lying @ailesswhumptober, @tarisilmarwen

Fandom: Star Wars: Rebels Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Sabezra Word Count: 2437 Summary: While on a mission with Ezra Sabine gets injured and she hides it from him, not wanting him to worry. Things go sideways, and what Sabine wants becomes a whole lot more difficult. WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence READ ON AO3

They were taken to command. Along the way both Sabine and Ezra had been bound, their hands in binders behind their backs.

They were deposited before Thrawn on their knees.

The sudden pain was enough to wake Ezra. He immediately started growling, trying to get out, but a slap from one of the troopers made him stop. His eyes were all for Thrawn, burning. Sabine felt too hurt to drudge up such hatred, but she perhaps had enough energy to still be level-headed about this. Thrawn liked to negotiate, and with their comms down this long Hera and Kanan would know something was wrong. Despite how alone she felt now, they weren’t alone. She knew that. There was no way they wouldn’t get out of this.

“So, two rebels infiltrating a prison base,” Thrawn mused, hands behind his back. He paced, slowly. “I’m glad to see my hunch was correct, that you would be here.” With that he looked back at them, but he was facing the large windows at the front, and didn’t turn from them. Out there was nothing, the planet killed by the Empire. Nothing but black rock and ash was outside the base. “Usually, it’s not my job to go hunting rebels from base to base, but it didn’t take much work to figure out you would come here. Let me guess, Fulcrum sent you? How disappointing. How obvious.”

“Obvious?” Sabine asked. “Then who were those prisoners? What were they for?”

Thrawn seemed a tad surprised, and even amused, that Sabine hadn’t known that much.

He came over to them now, and Sabine tensed. Her already injured neck was hurting so much more for having to look up at him. She tried standing, but was shoved back down. The force of it had her breathing hitch, and the pain in her right side bloomed anew.

“You didn’t know? Then I suppose there’s no use telling you. They did their jobs.”

“Is that why you killed them?” Ezra growled. “You were done with them? They were expendable?”

“My dear boy, everyone is expendable.”

“Even you?” Sabine asked.

Thrawn’s brows lowered at this, his red eyes seeming to glow with a hatred she couldn’t fathom.

Before anyone else could speak an officer in a gray uniform came up to Thrawn. After a quick salute he said, “Grand Admiral, your ship is in range.”

Sabine went cold, her stomach dropping to her feet, and she had to try and stop herself from shaking. Why did it suddenly feel like her heart was in her throat?

Kriff.

She glanced at Ezra. If they were going to do something to escape, they had to do it now.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” He turned to the rest of them. “Take Miss Wren, and Bridger to my shuttle.”

Sabine shoved back into the hands grabbing her, standing her up. The extra force threw them off, and Sabine found herself toppling backwards with the stormtroopers. This stretched her torso, back making a bow, and she cried out from the sharp throb that went through her ribs. That sharp throbbing stretched around to her back, and now she was a tad afraid something was out of place too.

“Sabine? Sabine!”

More hands grabbed her, and then she was pulled up, face to face with Thrawn. His hands were on her, not any of the troopers’. She had fought in many battles and yet this made her throat go dry.

“You’re injured,” he commented as he set her feet on the floor in a surprisingly gentle manner.

She tried to laugh, and tilted her head, showing her right cheek and the swelling she felt there.

“So?” she challenged.

Why did it matter to him? Was he fascinated with her pain for some reason?

“Bridger doesn’t know.”

“Uh, I have a ball growing on the side of my face—I think everyone knows.”

“Sabine, what’s he talking about?”

“Nothing, Ezra!”

“Ooh, and a liar too.”

At this point she was fed up. Couldn’t he just shoot her or something instead of whatever this was?

“Just take me to your kriffing shuttle.”

Thrawn grinned, and Sabine thought maybe she stopped breathing. A grin did not look good on that face. This was one of the faces of the Empire, a face that hunted her even in her dreams. And always he killed her family in those dreams, leaving her alone in her suffering. Yet this time she knew whatever pain was coming would be directed at her.

He turned her around, and she fell back against him, which was far too personal for her taste. She could feel him breathing. How odd to realize that the Empire’s Grand Admiral breathed just as she did.

Before she could pull away he grabbed her; strong, blue fingers digging into her fractured ribs.

Sabine couldn’t feel her legs, and there was so much pressure in her lungs, in her head, that she thought they were going to explode, that she would explode.

She writhed in his grip, legs she was now a bit more aware of flailing, kicking backwards. Her body tried to cave in on itself, to escape the pressure of that devastating hand. She thought maybe she tried screaming, but there was barely enough air to do it.

Her throat seemed tight, her voice stuck in her, but perhaps a choked sound escaped.

Through it she thought she saw Ezra fighting off his guards, his binders, thought she maybe heard him calling her name, and begging for Thrawn to stop.

He did, and shoved her forward when she was done.

Surprisingly, her enemies let Ezra catch her, and hold her up. His thumbs wiped away tears she hadn’t known were there, and he was particularly careful with her right cheek. His own right cheek was a swollen mass of red and blue. There was a cut along it where the butt of the blaster had struck his cheekbone.

“Why did you hide that from me?” he asked, voice hoarse, broken.

She tried to smile, but was exhausted from the pain. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“How touching,” Thrawn commented.

Ezra sneered.

Stormtroopers grabbed them again, and that was when a blast from outside blew out the window. Sabine tried to get to the floor and wrap herself around Ezra as shards of transparisteel shot towards them. Ezra tried to do the same. They ended up huddled on the floor together, the building shaking from more blasts.

In the confusion Ezra got her binders off.

What ha happened? Was it the Ghost?

They had been in there a long time without comms, so Hera and Kanan must have figured out something bad was happening.

Luckily the bigger shards had passed Ezra and Sabine by. They had small nicks and cuts on their faces, a few on their bodies, but nothing major. Ezra reached out to ruffle the smaller pieces transparisteel out of her hair. She reached to do the same for him, but his hair was so short that all he had to do was shake his head.

Thrawn was up on his feet already, and Sabine looked around for her helmet, and their weapons. Ezra found them, calling them over with the force. He gave her forehead a quick kiss before putting her helmet on for her.

Another blast, and her comms came back on.

“Spectre-2?” Sabine asked, confirming this was indeed Hera.

“Spectres-5 and -6, you’re back with us?”

“It would seem so,” Ezra responded.

They were up on their feet, but even though Thrawn seemed to snarl at them, he passed them by. He had bigger problems, it would seem.

The Ghost came into view through the shattered window, and Kanan jogged out, ponytail blowing in the harsh wind.

“Need a lift?” he called.

Sabine collapsed against Ezra, partially in relief, partially from the pain that Thrawn had inflicted. She was worried about the state of her ribs at this point, and how dangerous this injury could get.

“Master, I’ve never been so glad to hear your voice,” Ezra said, wrapping an arm around Sabine’s waist, and lifting her other one to be around his shoulders. 

She tried to hang on, and hoped this position wouldn’t jostle her too much.

Chopper trundled down the ramp, yelling at them. Blasterfire started up outside, even as a haze of smoke wafted into the command center from the fighting in the halls. Zeb, probably.

Kanan dodged blasts effortlessly, and took out his lightsaber.

“Yeah? Well, if you want to keep hearing it, get on board!”

“You okay to walk?” Ezra asked Sabine, and for a moment it seemed like just the two of them, all alone in the galaxy, but together.

“I’ll manage.”

Through a haze of pain, and hitched breaths, Sabine managed to get onto the Ghost. Ezra tried to help her up the ladder from the cargo bay, but she pushed at him, telling him to go help the others, that she was fine.

Sabine managed to get to the cockpit, where Hera was pushing everyone to get back on board.

Sabine collapsed into her seat, but she didn’t know whether to hunch over or lean back, or—

Every move hurt.

“What happened?” Hera demanded. “Are you okay?”

“Ambush,” she panted. “Thrawn’s here. He had the prisoners killed.”

Hera’s face fell. Then she said, “Well, that explains the Star Destroyer on our scopes.”

She urged everyone to get back to the Ghost, especially Zeb and Ezra since they seemed like they wanted to wipe out Thrawn here and now.

“But—” Ezra tried to argue.

“There is a Star Destroyer entering orbit,” Hera interrupted whatever Ezra was about to say. “We have to go. Now.”

There were a few panicked minutes Sabine tried to take in as everyone got on board.

Then they were taking off, and of course were met with X-wings as they were leaving the atmosphere.

Hera managed to twirl the Ghost onto its side, and Ezra helped Sabine stay in place, and then they dove between two X-wings, and were in hyperspace. The ship’s artificial gravity had an easier time now, and Sabine eased back into her seat.

They had escaped. And yet, the adrenaline hadn’t given way to relief for Sabine. As she was about to tell Hera she was injured, Ezra did so himself, and then he was taking her to her cabin.

He cursed the design that led to her bunk being atop the booth, and Sabine definitely agreed. Still, he sat her down, and she took her helmet off.

With the soothing hum of the engines, it was easy for her world to shrink down to just the two of them again, though she was not looking forward to this part.

Ezra almost reached out, but then pulled his hands back. “Where are you hurt?”

In answer Sabine took off her chestplate, and then lifted up her shirt. She looked down at the injury as well, and she was met with black and blue taking up a good portion of her torso. There was swelling a few inches below her right breast, and she thought she saw purple there as well.

“Oh, Sabine, why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were… a little busy,” she grunted out, partially lying.

“I’ll go get some ice. And I’ll let Hera know you need medical attention when we land.

Sabine grabbed his hand, and pulled him close. Her hand ghosted over the swelling on his face. “And what about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Heard that before.”

“Oh, from you?” he teased, reaching up to hold her hand close.

“Shut up. Just go get some ice.”

When Ezra returned with ice, he held it to her torso for her, and another to her face.

“I think we need more for the backs of our heads later,” she said. “Are you dizzy at all?”

“No, no. I’m fine.”

Ezra swayed.

He pitched up against her legs, and with a sigh, he tried to make himself more comfortable. Sabine took over holding her own ice, wincing at the pressure of it against her ribs. As for her face, it was already feeling remarkably better.

“Okay, so I wasn’t the only one hiding an injury,” Ezra admitted into the comforting quiet.

“So why’d you do it?” Sabine asked, feeling the warmth of his body even through her clothes.

He rubbed at her leg, the one that had first been electrocuted, but she didn’t mention it, even as she winced. There was too much to worry about as it was.

“Didn’t want you to worry.”

“And I… I didn’t see a point,” she got out. Then she forced out, the words almost painful enough to bite her tongue, “I didn’t want you to think I was weak.”

Ezra sat up, and looked at her. “You? Weak? Sabine, you’re amazing, and one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. If someone calls you weak then they don’t know poodoo.”

She gave him a rare smile. “Thanks.”

He rested back against her, and she felt for the lump on his head. She was rewarded with a wince from Ezra. Thankfully the lump wasn’t too big, but he’d been dizzy. Yet another thing to worry about. Still, he couldn’t be injured too badly, but knowing he was injured at all sent a pang through her heart.

Just then she laughed, or tried to before she was left gasping with pain, and almost toppling forward.

Ezra held her up, and after he looked at her, her bare skin she was showing, the bruises not covered by ice, their gazes met.

“What?” he said, almost a whisper.

“I think we need to agree to be honest with each other in the future.”

“I will if you will.”

Sabine smiled despite her pain, despite her difficulty breathing because of it, and she pulled Ezra closer. “Deal.”

She kissed him, and tasted the sweat on his upper lip, felt the warmth and softness she was so familiar with. For a moment she remembered the dried blood on her mouth, but he wasn’t hesitant with his kiss. Ezra pressed his lips against her earnestly; he hardly knew another way.

The universe could have sped on into its own self destruction by the time they pulled back. Sabine pressed her forehead to his, and she felt him lean into her, doing the same. They were living in each other’s space, their breaths, their shared warmth.

When Ezra spoke it was a quiet promise amongst pain, and Sabine wanted to kiss him again to hold it inside of her, but she found she didn’t need to—she trusted him:

“Deal.”

[direwolfrules]

Anyway, back to the 3 Mandos and a Baby AU.

So, Ursa’s off angsting with Alrich at the Royal Academy while Bo-Katan is trapped in her personal version of hell.

Bo has to pretend nothing’s wrong, that she’s still strong, still the best, and she has to put up with Pre. Pre, who says things that seem normal on the surface but the way he says them just seems wrong. Pre, who is always touching a shoulder here or a back there. Pre, who rather hates when he’s told to buzz off.

There are several people Bo-Katan would love to see dead on Concordia but she controls herself. Mostly. Look, if the Saxon brothers die in a training accident that’s just a tragic coincidence and has nothing to do with why Bo-Katan was hanging around the Kom’rks with a toolbox earlier. Pre has to live for now, but many of his underlings do not.

But there are some good things about being back in time too.

Lieutenant Patrok Ru-Saxon of the Sundari Protectors keeps getting scarily accurate information about Death Watch attacks. Pre would blame Bo for the leak, but the fact is she was never in the room when some of those attacks were discussed. There’s no way she could know about them unless she sees the future, and we all know that’s impossible.

Satine is alive, and Bo holds out hope that they can reconcile some day. The things she said when they last saw each other in this timeline were harsh, and Bo doesn’t seem to realize that Satine didn’t take the angry words of a ten year old to heart. Satine would probably still be mad about the whole “trying to make Korkie Mand’alor” thing though, because really Bo? Really?

Oh, and just because Ursa and Alrich’s spy games are happening in the heart of New Mandalorian society doesn’t mean they aren’t in danger.

Ursa has to show “progress” converting people to Death Watch or Death Watch sympathizers. Just Alrich and his weird theater kid roommate aren’t going to cut it. If she fails…well her cousin seems to be a reliable sort, the type who would see Krownest through whatever it faces.

And this isn’t even counting the threat from the New Mandos. Almec’s corruption runs deep and his personal force of Protectors worship the almighty credit. There’s a very persistent member of the City Watch who saw through Ursa’s innocent cadet routine and now she’s trying to gather the evidence she needs to throw her in a hole and forget about it. A couple of the professors at the Academy find Ursa and Alrich’s near perfect grades suspicious, especially considering how Ursa came late and Alrich was never this good a student.

It’s just constant near escapes and “I’ll be watching you Wren”s and lying. Lots of lying. Ursa’s reminded of Sabine’s weird little Jedi friend more that once. Of course, any reminder of Sabine breaks her heart into a thousand tiny pieces because that was her daughter and she just got her back and now she’ll truly never see her again.

Alrich prefers to fight with his art, but he’s ready to knife a bitch if they look like they’re threatening his family. One night Ursa misses a tail as they’re sneaking Korkie and his friends out of the Academy for blaster practice, and a Protector spots them and tails them, ready to finally arrest the Wren bitch who was humiliating their sibling in exams. They’re giving their stupid monologue when Alrich sneaks up behind and shoots them, because no one calls his wife a bitch and gets away with it. Also, no one threatens to throw his wife in jail.

Ursa didn’t know it was possible but she falls like three times more in love with Alrich in that moment. And three times more concerned about Korkie cause this child just saw someone die and his first response was “I’ll help clean up the body”.

[booasaur]

See (2019) - Haniwa and Wren » Kisses

Bonus:

[galaxywhump]

How strong is Daniel? Does he work out regularly? He’s able to manhandle a lieutenant who has been training his whole life, so I’m assuming Dannibal is pretty buff. Has Danny-boi ever had trouble controlling Rackhalm?

He works out nearly every day, and he stays active in general, often venturing out into the jungle for instance. Wren was being starved at first and restrained a lot, but even without that Daniel is taller and stronger than him, cause Wren prefers endurance-oriented sports like jogging and swimming.

Daniel might have struggled with keeping Wren under control a few times, but the threat of cutting off his hand if he fights back too much was pretty effective at keeping him from straight up fighting Daniel.

[chocobothis]

Fic Preview

Fandom: Star Wars - Clone Wars Era circa 21 BBY

Characters: Solus Ve’tra, Pre Vizsla

Ship: Implied Past PreSolus Hookup

Word Count: 533

Note: Assume this will possible changes as I write more. This is the first chunk before things get deeper and very feelsy. They are speaking in purely Mando’a. Using Kyr’tsad (Death Watch) and Ver’alor (Lieutenant) is something specific to Solus because she’s settling back into her skin again, so to speak. It’s her military experience she’s choosing versus being drafted into the Republic Military as a padawan.

The entire purpose of standing outside, in the bitter cold twilight of Krownest, was to be left alone. From her quick glances and hidden prodding she found most everyone to be human or humanoid enough to dislike the cold. Even the year around residents had their limits. An even more enticing reason to stay inside was the small celebration happening. Her induction into Kyr’tsad cemented Death Watch’s control of the planet.

That sure thing fell apart with the leisurely approach of her Manda’lor. 

Earlier they had dined together with Ursa and Clan Wren as well as the members of Kyr’tsad. She was even given the seat to his left as a place of honor. The right belonged to his ver’alor, Bo-Katan Kryze, and on her right was an as of yet unknown, Axe Woves. From there the rest of his delegation filtered in. While her own left belonged to Ursa, then Alrich, and more of Clan Wren. If she pretended it was like her life should have been all along; she had to excuse herself when they finished for composure.

“You’re difficult to find.” The balcony door shut behind him. “I thought you’d bolted on us.”

In pettiness, she kept her back to him to scowl at the beautiful, free growing evergreens. “I didn’t return home just to leave again.”

Krownest was her homeworld. The first seven years of her life had been spent here. Even with the ongoing war she knew the feel of its sun and snow on her face. Fresh winds whipped through her hair with the scent of nature on its back. Here was where she most belonged, now and for forever more.

“Do you mean the just planet or Wren Stronghold?” His curiosity was genuine as it had been on Concordia when they met. “I know Clan Ve’tra and Clan Wren have been allies for centuries. Krownest has been yours to rule.”

When he fully stepped into her peripheral she noted his pinkening cheeks. This time she knew the weather was to blame. In the weeks prior, it had been the tihaar they shared at his desk while they played at being a Governor and a Jedi. Both of their cheeks had flushed when they shed every layer to fall together, almost true to themselves.

“I spent as much time here as I did in our stronghold or war camps. Ursa was my mentor and sometimes babysitter. I started following after her as soon as I could walk.” Her arms folded over the banister. “Our clans liked to have the future leaders growing up together.”

Everything she learned from Ursa, among the others, kept her alive to return to home. She hoped Ursa was willing to mentor her in things to come. Her proof of the false flag operation and strong showing would get her the head start. Ursa had over a decade of experience with the current political climate. Gauging how long she had been with Kyr’tsad and its subunit would take longer. She would need her guidance once again.

With Tristan already and another on the way she understands motherhood as well. That’s something I’ll need help with sooner rather than later.

“Once again, welcome home, Solus.”

[wardenamatus]

Kirsa Mistwood - A Bio

Kirsa Wren Mistwood

Known as Kiwi by her family and childhood friends

Known as Skyhawk by the UFAD

Birthday - September 20 (Summer 28), age 33 at the start of Spring, Year 1

Hometown - Zuzu City, Ferngill Republic

Job - Lieutenant Colonel of the Ferngill Republic United Forces, Air Division (UFAD). Currently on a medical leave of absence and working as the owner of Mistwood Farms.

Field Officer (there are only 3 ranks above Kirsa's and she was handpicked for the promotion by the President of the Ferngill Republic)

Trauma Surgeon - holds medical board certifications in: general surgery, trauma surgery, emergency medicine, emergency medical services.

Gender and Sexuality - cisgender woman she/her, panromantic demisexual.

Description

Kirsa is 5'7 with a lean, muscular build. She has bright aqua blue eyes and wears oversized purple-framed glasses. Her wavy auburn hair is usually kept long but rarely worn down - she usually twists it into braids of varying complexity. She has a light dusting of freckles all over her body that tend to blend into her peachy/tan skin tone.

She prefers to wear comfortable outdoorsy clothing, favoring leggings, light pants/shorts, tshirts, button-down work shirts, outdoor boots/shoes. Kirsa always wears a purple silicone medical ID bracelet on her right wrist and a smart watch on her left wrist.

After serving for 9 years in the military, Kirsa has a collection of more than two dozen small scars from various injuries (cuts, burns, breaks, etc). Most are faded and are only noticeable if you're looking for them, but two stand out. A spiderweb like collection of thin jagged lines and haphazardly placed circles in the middle of her right thigh, and a long straight pink surgical scar on her torso that is half an inch wide and runs from the top of her sternum to her navel.

Tattoo

Kirsa has a tattoo that matches those of her squadron - each member of her squad got one to represent their call sign after they graduated from officer training, and all have the letters AETS (Airborne Emergency Trauma Support) and YNDY (You're Not Dead Yet) incorporated into the design.

Kirsa's tattoo (for "Skyhawk") is on her right wrist - a silhouette of a Cessna Skyhawk plane with AETS on the left wing of the plane and YNDY on the right wing, with a dotted line trail that extends from the back of the plane around her wrist but doesn't reconnect to anything.

[detectiveconnor]

@dutyworn

Let me buy you lunch, was how he'd gotten Commander Shepard to this table. Connor didn't consider this an 'ambush' so much as a form of providing information which he, as relatively compliant with the legal system as he was, might happen to 'let slip'. She needed this information. Commander Shepard was a decent person, so far as Connor could tell ('good', he was still deciding; decent was worth a lot, on its own, anyway), and there were free snacks at Android-Human reconciliation nights, but he doubted she had happened to want to attend every single night since she'd gotten here, purely out of interest.

He watched her tear into her meal, LED cycling calmly, as he considered how best to broach this topic. Probably best to wait until her mouth was not actively in use. She would ask him why he had invited her here, soon, anyway. He folded his hands on the table in front of him in their little booth, comfortable and patient. He'd carved time out for this conversation, he had another twenty minutes before he was urgently needed anywhere else.

When Commander Shepard did ask what he'd wanted her there, Connor leant forward a little: "There's a man who falsifies identity documents on Detroit's west side. I wouldn't use them for international travel, or the military, but they'll pass rudimentary checks." Statements of fact. He lifted his wrist, just a little, so his analogue watch (a gift from the Lieutenant) caught the light; just past midday. "He'll usually stay on location until around 2:00. There are a couple of spots he uses. His name is Tim." His name was not Tim; Connor suspected that Mr Robinski was aware that Connor's analysis software could identify him by name and by criminal record; Tim still went by 'Tim', and Connor used the name to talk about him, and that was the sort of truce they drew between them.

To clarify the point, "You could use the papers, Commander." He could pretend he did not think this, but that would be a waste of both their time. "He's not the only source, and he's not the best. But I've never known him to ghost a client." Tim showed up, he did the work, he produced a decent quality set of ID, and he kept his mouth shut. He was Connor's recommendation. Connor doubted Wren would get many others.

[aeon2407]

Pyro's Pyrotechnic Love Life - Chapter 3

For @contentment-of-cats. Also on AO3.

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Evergreen Forest, Krownest

“Actually, how did you two meet?”

It’s been two hours since Artur left, two hours since a Mandalorian wearing the most colorful armor she’s ever seen stripped his weapons and took him away in stuncuffs.

Sabine Wren, Sundari Academy defector and Phoenix Squadron’s weapons expert, took him away in cuffs.

Yana’s been keeping herself busy by helping with digging a trench for shelter and fortifications in case the Wrens decide to go for violence and rigging the Disciple’s databank with a generous amount of dentons. That and casual conversation. Odo’s question caught her attention, and she took a moment to decide if answering it now would cause her anxiety to show.

To Sith hell with it. Everyone here was family to her, anyway.

“Uh… he had to attend a full year at Royal after they left Terra, General Tagge’s orders. Apparently jumping straight from Lieutenant to Major required some extra leadership training.” A few chuckles. “Anyway, he was there my final year. We met in Professor Partagaz’s Criminal Psychology class. We got to know each other in the sparring ring and on the range, though. He went back to batt the day after Jashin and I commissioned.”

A smile crept onto her face at the memories, pushing the anxiety and stress back. The challenges, the banter, The Kiss, the sex.

Most of her paid leave for the next four years was spent taking his private shuttle to Coruscant or Spira or Bespin or wherever they could find real meat on the grill and a good, soundproofed hotel room. She loved being loud and a bottom and vulnerable with him, just like she loves doing it all with Yissa now. It was liberating, especially for someone with her upbringing.

“It was tough, you know?” Now that she was talking and comfortable doing it, everything started to spill unprompted. “Dating someone on the other end of the galaxy, working the jobs and the hours we did. But we made it work. We made it work for four years.”

Odo looked fascinated, Yissa was pointedly uncomfortable, Jashin knew all of this already, but it was Faro who asked the tough question. “Why did you two break things off? I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault, but he was crying his eyes out that night.”

“We both needed more than what a long-distance relationship can offer.” Pyro automatically used the same reply she gave Jashin back then before she registered the rest of what was said. “Wait, how did you know he was crying? We broke up at Tagge Manor.”

Now it was Faro’s turn on the backfoot. She obviously hadn’t meant to let that slip. “Um… uh…”

Her mentor was uncharacteristically nervous, stumbling over her words like a new ensign, and it took Yana a few seconds of staring before it clicked.

“OH SHIT!”

Everyone jumped back at the volume, and some snow fell from the branches above. Yana was looking at Faro with an unmistakable mixture of surprise and disgust, the galactic expression for when one finds certain people in certain… situations.

Everyone waited with bated breaths for Pyro to finally spill whatever it was she figured out. And when she finally did, it was with an appropriate amount of horror in her voice.

“You kriffed Cassio Tagge?”

Karyn reminds herself, yet again, to cram a filter somewhere in her mentee’s vocal functions. Maybe Thrawn can help.

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

It took another two hours of huddling around and bundling together in their little tarp-covered trench, with Karyn suffering and refusing to acknowledge the bombardment of questions aimed at her, before Artur came back with a Gauntlet starfighter and an escort of jetpacked Mando troops, just before his self-appointed deadline. There was blood splattering his face and coating his fingers, snow in his hair, a blaster burn on his right bicep, and a burnt right gauntlet.

He held his head high despite the injury though, his weapons were back where they belonged, and there weren’t cuffs on his wrists anymore. Something was different about his escorts too. Their stances were no longer hostile, more professional and in some cases even a little deferential if you squint and look from an angle.

Beside her, Pyro must’ve noticed the same thing and came to some sort of conclusion, because Karyn heard her let out a surprised gasp followed by a string of very colorful words, in multiple languages to boot, that would’ve made Marinith proud and Thrawn tell her things about herself.

It wasn’t until her surrogate son lifted the tarp and told them it was time to go that Karyn noticed what Pyro must’ve earlier. There was a lightsaber on his hip. More specifically, the fabled Darksaber, last known to be in the possession of Sabine Wren.

That would explain the escort. The questions now, however, would be whether Artur had to commit sororicide to become Mand’alor, and what he was going to do with the title.

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Hydian Way, Hyperspace

Artur took a detour close to Mandalore and launched the saber into orbit. “Ni jor'naycir te dha kad'au bal te gai be Mand'alor. Vercopa te projor verda alorir”, he had muttered to himself, voice as flat as when he was Vader’s left hand, then punched in the coordinates for Cantonica and all but yanked the lever. He didn’t want, or need, the title of Mand’alor. Someone else can have it.

A collective sigh of relief was let out from the bundle of people behind him as the familiar warped lights of hyperspace flushed the cockpit a shade of blue. The troop bay on a Gauntlet wasn’t small by any means, but between the number of people and storage cubes, four of them ended up having to sit on each other’s lap. Of course, with two couples among them it worked out perfectly.

He spent the next two hours or so in silence, checking everything from the navicomputer to the engine readings with the precision and decisiveness of someone who gave Soontir Fel and Han Solo a run for their credits during dogfights at Cliffside.

It was a shame Solo deserted on Mimban. He was looking forward to getting the man back into the Carida flight program, or maybe Skystrike would’ve been a better fit. He was definitely good enough to fly for the Empire, maybe even with SCAR Wing One.

The cockpit door sealed shut as Pyro lean against his shoulder from behind. A hand trailed down to his chest in a comforting hug, and he instinctively covered it with his own, lightly squeezing and rubbing her calloused palm with his thumb.

Yana felt a mangled mix of emotions slam into her heart at the touch. Safety came first, then love. Peace. Vulnerability. Longing. Guilt.

She didn’t pull away.

“Did you…”

“No.”

“Are you still…”

“Not anymore.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks, Yana.”

…

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay.”

…

…

“It’ll crush you whether you talk about it or not, Artur. Better here and now than on the job.”

An acknowledging hum. Pyro knew the man well enough to leave it be.

“Does Faro know?”

…

“She does.”

“You told her?”

“Dad did.”

“Wasn’t his place.”

“It was, actually.”

“Says who?”

“Me. Gave him permission and everything.”

“Oh.”

…

“Still can’t believe they…”

A grimace from her. A chuckle from him.

“How’d you think we met?”

…

…

“Fair enough. Was it as gross for you as it is for me?”

“I’m in the Army, Pyro. Unit morale is basically contingent on sex, and we don’t usually have the privacy you sailors do.”

A deadpan and slightly confused stare.

“No, it wasn’t gross to me. They both liked each other, they both seemed to have enjoyed it, and it didn’t affect any careers, so I didn’t care either way.”

“Huh. Haven’t thought about it that way.”

“I can tell.”

A light smack on the head. “Asshole.”

A shared chuckle.

“In her defense he was quite charming back then, and…”

“I really don’t want to think about it more than necessary.”

“Fair enough.”

“Thank you.”

“Everyone else asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“Not you though.”

“Wanted to check up on you.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The conversation lulled into silence from there, but neither of them minded it, Pyro content with leaning against the man who had once made her of all people happy at the thought of marriage, Artur content to keep holding her hand and rubbing her knuckles. It was a pale reflection of what they once had, but it was the best he’d get.

The navicomputer chimed, signally their imminent exit from hyperspace. With a noticeable amount of reluctance, Yana pulled her hand out from under his and made her way back.

Don’t say it, Tagge. For all that’s good and proper, don’t say it.

“You know, if it wasn’t for Hammerly, I would’ve asked if you wanted to try again, now that we’re posted on the same ship.”

Damn it.

Yana paused, her hand hovering above the door control.

“If it wasn’t for Yissa, I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.”

She opened the door and walked away.

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Hyperspace Penthouse, 49th – 53rd Floor, Mon’t Car’l Tower, Canto Bight, Cantonica

“So this is what owning a whole region of Space gets you.”

“No, this is what the War Mantle contract gets you.”

“Nah, this is Founder money right here.”

“Can’t be. The Hammerlies were Founders too, and they’re rich, but not this kriffing rich.”

“Tarkin has the one below us, though. Must be an exclusivity thing.”

“You say that like the Tarkins didn’t own Eriadu pre-Empire.”

Karyn and Yissa quietly found seats for their sore and tired bodies, letting the junior officers gush to their hearts’ content while Artur hauled their cubes into the kitchen. To be completely fair to the looies, it was one hell of an apartment. Curved, floor-to-ceiling transparisteel windows on either side and an open concept balcony allowed plenty of light into the living room and provided one of the most spectacular views any of them had ever seen, overlooking a glistening ocean as the dimming lights of sunset caught the waters just right.

Circular living rooms haven’t been in style since the Clone Wars, but this one walked the line between modern and classic and looking no less classy doing it. Couches, armchairs, and pouf couches lined the windows, balcony, and around the large wooden caf table, circular of course, placed in front of the fireplace.

Oh right, there was an actual fireplace here.

The circular, glass-bottomed infinity pool on the second floor led into a decorative waterfall down to the balcony that can double as a refresher, and there were lounge chairs and parasols nearby.

The kitchen was open, only separated from the living room by a marble island and the change in flooring from hardwood and plush carpets to polished stone tiles. Every kitchen appliance under any sun in the galaxy can be seen, sometimes more than once, and Artur had said that there were service droids available for restocking any foodstuff they wanted, whenever they wanted it.

Bedrooms lay spread across the five floors, and Odo joked that he could finally sleep soundly without the others’ ‘nightly activities’ disrupting him. Unfortunately, Jashin and Phyrre seemed to have taken that as a challenge.

“So, is this good or no?” Artur asked from the kitchen, a warm yet amused smile on his face as he watched the lieutenants acting like a clowder given a new shiny toy, which wasn’t all that far from the truth. Honestly, the behavior reminded him of getting Pyro that MM9 for their third anniversary.

Hammerly turned to him from the pouf couch, noticeably more relaxed. “Yeah, this is good.”

Her answer came out in breathy whispers, which got a giggle out of Yana as she curled up on her wyf’s lap, falling asleep in seconds as her daily allocation of manic energy is spent.

They came to Canto Bight for the nightlife, but tonight will be strictly recuperation, either physically or, in some cases, mentally. They have a month. They can waste a day.

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Medical Ward, Wren Stronghold, Krownest

Ursa hasn’t slept for two days, despite her son’s urging, despite her husband’s kind but sobering words saying that there was nothing she could’ve done. Despite that darasuum dar’manda and his cutting accusations.

Bridger sat on the ground next to her, meditating like the proper jetii child that she knew he wasn’t. Or maybe he was praying, she could never tell with his kind. Sabine floated in a bacta tank nearby, still unconscious from blood loss but breathing steadily through the respirator. Her left arm was preserved in a cryostasis unit next door along with her right leg. That demagolka had taken both in one fell swoop.

The older jetii was working with Tristan and Captain Syndulla to look for methods of reattaching limbs. Right now, their best lead was the neuropathic connectivity research conducted by the Kaminoans to install inhibitor chips and fix ‘defects’ in their clones. The three of them were enroute to salvage whatever remained of Tipoca City. The Lasat was venting his anger by sparring her guards into the ground, and Ursa could’ve sworn she heard the droid listed at least fifteen different war crimes in a plan to exact revenge. She might just help out.

But first, she had to address the accusations to Sabine when she wakes up. How do you tell your until-recently estranged daughter that she wasn’t your first child?

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Canto Casino, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Vacation Day 5. Leave remaining: 30 Days.

At this rate, he’ll have four billionaire crewmates instead of just the one by the time they get back shipside. Jashin was afraid to even think about what they’d do with that much money.

It’s been going on like this for the past four days. Artur supply the creds then loudly loses at a no-limits table to attract the high rollers, Yissa keeps track of the cards, Pyro comes in with her big, beautiful brain and wipe them out while Phyrre distracts the floormen in a shimmering dress that was extremely flattering on her. He’d be tempted to rip it off if it wasn’t more expensive than his entire career so far.

This must be entertaining for them, because so far they’ve wiped out every multimillionaire and billionaire at Tagge Palace, KDY Grand, and Coruscant InterGalactic.

All of them would be nursing lifetime bans from every casino on the planet if it wasn’t for the House of Tagge signet gleaming on Artur’s finger. As it were, no one has tried anything yet, but Jashin and Odo were watching from the bar just in case.

Faro has been joyfully on a bender the entire week they’ve been planetside, drowning in every combination of alcohol under the galaxy that wasn’t lethal for human consumption. Given the nature of her job, no one begrudged her the indulgence.

Artur had very thoughtfully left a stim, a few bacta pads, and some water by her bed after hauling her back the first night. He also left a bucket with a note saying ‘you deserve this’ and a smiley face. The bucket has proven itself incredibly useful every morning thus far, and they rolled a dice every day to see who’d have to empty it.

Back to the game though, Artur let out an exaggerated groan as he tossed his cards onto the table and walked off. Trohren Kuat grinned, happy to finally get one over a Tagge as he dumped his entire credit chit, twenty-eight million total, into the game. Time to wipe out this pretty little lass. Maybe he can offer her a chance to earn them back later. Taking Artur Tagge’s creds and the brat’s little bedwarmer would really make his night.

“What does Kuat have?” Odo asked in a whisper as Artur settled next to them at the bar, eyebrows raised in alarm as the man sighed.

“Either Pure Sabacc or nothing of value.”

“And Pyro?”

The sigh led into a predatory grin, the one even Thrawn has learned to be apprehensive of, as Pyro called and placed her cards down gently. “Idiot’s Array.”

The look on Kuat’s face was pure aurum, and Artur took the opportunity to mockingly toast the man from across the floor with a glass of Kuati gin. A raised eyebrow as the older man rose from his seat hostilely reminded both of them how KDY got such a good deal on their slice of War Mantle, and how easily they can lose it. He lost his father’s favor. He still had his aunt’s.

Artur turned to look at Pyro, smiling gently at the smug and gleeful expression on her gorgeous face as she transferred the eighty-million-credit pot into her chit and skipped to the bar.

The haul was now nine hundred million split four ways. Phyrre gets double on account of marriage, and Artur and Yissa were happy to hand over half their shares each.

“Great job, darling”, Yissa said as she glided up next to her wyf, planting a kiss on her lips now that Pyro can drop the act of being Artur Tagge’s trollop, part of their plan to hook Kuat in given the man’s inexplicable despisal of the House of Tagge, which worked like a kyber charm.

Pyro preened at the compliment and pulled her wyf back in for another kiss, a soft but blazing one that drew a few stares. It was unlike her, really, to be this brazen, but Yissa definitely wasn’t complaining.

“We should be going back. It’s late”, she breathlessly said. Yana nodded mutely.

Artur was the only outsider that recognized the love and lust in her eyes. First time he saw it when it wasn’t directed at him, though, and the realization made his gin taste sour instead of that familiar bitterness he was looking for.

Damn it. Why was this so hard?

“She’s right. It’s 0200. We should head back and catch some sleep before sunrise.” Artur did his damn best to keep any emotion besides joy and contentment out of his voice. Verdict’s still out on whether he succeeded.

With that, he downed the glass, tossed a 5000-credit chip onto the bar, and gestured for everyone else to follow. Odo hasn’t been drunk since making Junior Lieutenant, so he was the designated driver while Artur rode shotgun. Jashin already had Phyrre in his lap behind the driver and was using every last bit of self-control he had left to not take her then and there, taking the edge off slightly by starting a loud and heady make out session, both drunk out of their minds. Next to them, Yissa had Pyro in a similar position, just with more snuggling and cuddling than kissing.

Artur found his knuckles turning whiter by the minute on the armrests, and his heart was pounding in his ears. And if Odo noticed, he certainly didn’t comment on it.

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Hyperspace Penthouse, 49th – 53rd Floor, Mon’t Car’l Tower, Canto Bight, Cantonica

Vacation Day 7. Leave Remaining: 28 Days

Artur was suffering. That much he knew.

He also knew beforehand that being around Yana and not being with her would be a stab to the heart, but after a string of failures against a frustratingly elusive Saw Gerrera he needed an out from under Vader to keep his troopers safe, so when Tarkin gave him a choice between 1st Battalion staying with the 501st or reassignment to the Chimaera as an independent unit he took it, thinking that the wounds had healed.

No regrets on the choice, but he was a fool for thinking that he could ever move past Ilyana Pyrondi. Tagging along on this vacation was just unnecessary torture.

Maybe it was lackluster soundproofing, something he has been wanting to fix for a while, but Hammerly seemed to be extra loud these past few nights, and the twisting feeling in his heart was making it hard to sleep, so he’s been tiring himself out by painting his knuckles red with death stick dealers and spice peddlers in alleyways and taking an ice bath in the morning.

And now they were at the beach, and for the first time since learning how to, Artur Tagge didn’t want to swim.

Because swimming would mean getting close to a Pyro while neither of them had anything on beside skintight bathing togs. And while he immensely enjoyed the view, being in that particular situation, given the circumstances, wasn’t something he looked forward to.

It didn’t matter, in the end. Bright demeanor, easy smile, friendly banter. That was all he needed to do. When all was said and done, everyone present deserved a good, long vacation, and he refused to be the one to ruin it.

“You might want to unclench your jaw, Artur. Imperial benefits doesn’t include dental.”

The Tagge heir glanced towards Faro, who had just made herself comfortable on the bar two seats left of him, a multicolored drink (surprise, surprise) already in hand. There was a dreaded look of sympathy in her eyes, and Artur turned his head away, forcing his masseter to loosen as he took a large sip of Whyren's Reserve. He felt like drowning in alcohol today, might as well splurge on the good stuff.

“I know how hard it is, trust me, but at some point you have to move on.”

“There is no moving on, don’t you get that?” Artur snapped, seething. He hated the tone she used, the look in her eyes. He was a Tagge, damnit. Son of a General, nephew of a Baroness, heir to one of the wealthiest and most powerful dynasties in the galaxy and a kriffing war hero on top of that. Who was she to pity him?

He snuffed out that train of thought immediately as he glimpsed her wounded expression. She was just trying to care, and it was unbecoming to brag about himself like that, even in his own head. A deep breath helped to calm his racing heart and cool the heat in his blood. “I’m sorry.”

The tone he used was even more pathetic than he thought, and far more than he would ever admit to. A hand found its way onto his shoulder, riddled with old callouses that have softened after years of holding bridge command instead of intensive fieldwork. “Talk to me, Arty.”

“She’s the love of my life”, Artur muttered. It hurts, admitting that fact out loud, but this was Karyn Faro he was talking to, so he was safe. “I’m not being dramatic. I’ve put a lot of thought into it. She’s the one.”

Karyn sat there in stunned silence. She knew that when Artur loved, he loved passionately and unequivocally, but this was a completely different level. What should she say?

“And now you’re not with her anymore.”

Because pointing that out was the best option, Karyn. Good kriffing job.

Artur stiffened, swallowing a scathing sarcastic reply. His body loosened up once again as he leaned into her touch.

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Yana was conflicted, and that made her feel unthinkably guilty.

She was in an incredible relationship with an incredible woman that is Yissa Hammerly. She was loved. She was cared for. She was cherished and appreciated.

So why was her heart torn between loving this incredible woman and yearning for Artur Tagge? It made her feel filthy and disloyal.

Yana dunked her head under again, letting the cold water wash over her face in an attempt to clear her mind. She knew the feelings still lingered, what they had weren’t something one just moves on from, but she didn’t expect it to hit her like a cargo ship the moment she saw him again. She’d managed to mostly stay strictly friendly with him so far, but now he was so close.

Gah, this was why she hesitated to start things with Yissa. It wasn’t fair to her, but even after trying to warn her off by saying that she still wasn’t over her ex, Yissa still wanted to be with her, and that finally convinced Yana that a relationship with Yissa Hammerly was worth it. And it definitely was.

Yana had come to terms with the fact that she loved both Yiss and Arty in equal amounts, if for slightly different reasons. Now, she needed to choose.

Wait, maybe she didn’t.

A plan was beginning to form in Yana’s mind, more complex than any equation she’d ever tackled, one where she can get the best of both worlds. But if it failed, she’ll lose everything.

Now, where the hell is Jashin?