#me when reverence is used between two ships

[robiinurheart33]

I hate them so much ❤️

[a-leg-without-fear]

Poison🩸🌧️

got the feels and wanted to write about it

Ship: Old!Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 786

Warnings: disease, injury, blood, aging, kind of age gap? (they're roughly the same age but reader doesn't show it), grief

Your nose scrunched as it was hit by the all-too familiar scent that followed Logan like a shadow. Acrid, sharp, deadly. Seeped into his blood from his metallic bones, poisoning him. Killing him. Leeching his life and healing mutation to where he was a husk of the X-Man he once was.

It was 29 years to the day since you’d met him. When he'd woken up, terrified, on that chrome stretcher and nearly choked you to death. The blood flowing through his thick arms pumping by your ears and only proving what you’d hypothesized: his blood wasn’t normal.

Logan’s blood ran thicker than every other person’s. Tasted more metallic, more iron in his blood than the rest of the mutants that filled Charles Xavier’s mansion. You had always found Logan’s blood to be tricky to manipulate. Whether it be to stimulate his healing or to form the thick ichor to your desire, it just didn’t want to cooperate.

That same difficulty faced you now as you kneeled in front of your and Logan’s shared bed. The room rattled as another freight train barreled by outside. Dusty picture frames swinging on rusted walls, bottles of medication bouncing on wire shelves, creaking bed groaning under Logan’s weight.

You held a clean rag to a shotgun blast in Logan’s gut. His blood had soaked through two others just like it, now lying in the dented bucket at your feet. A vein in your neck strained as you focused on healing the wound.

“It’s no use, doll. I’ll be fine,” Logan grunted. He tried to wave you off with a withered hand. You smacked it away from your face. A low hum rumbled his chest.

“Shut up, old man,” you said. That earned a rough chuckle from his chapped lips. You glanced up at him from where you knelt between his knees.

If pure reverence was an expression, what painted Logan’s face in broad strokes fit the bill. Crows feet bunched around his hazel eyes, smile lines deepend by his close-lipped smirk, graying eyebrows turned up at the edges. He ran a calloused hand along your unaged cheek.

“Beautiful as the day I met you,” he whispered softly. Grief struck you in the chest like a wooden stake. 

It wasn’t fair. Logan’s adamantium skeleton sucked the life from him, making him age and decay, while you remained the same. Wrinkle-less, youthful, bright-eyed. You would pump your youth into him if you could. 

But you couldn’t.

All you could do was prevent the inevitable. Prevent what once seemed impossible, yet hung over you like a thick fog.

Logan ran his thumb under your eye, collecting a tear that spilled from your clouded eyes. You blinked up at him as a thick lump formed in your throat. Words unspoken passed between the two of you. Adoration, understanding, sorrow. Leaking from the hot tears spilling from your eyes and into Logan’s leathery skin. 

“I love you,” you breathed into his palm. You gave it one last attempt, healing the wound in his stomach. You could just barely feel the edges closing and the skin knitting together. The ligaments running through your neck and shoulder tensed under the effort.

“Love you too, doll,” he replied, using the hand not on your cheek to smooth down your strained muscles. Thinning fingers ran down your shoulder, passing over his borrowed flannel and your bare skin, then wrapped around the hand held to his gut. He laced the digits with yours, “Give it up. I’ll heal the old-fashioned way.”

A sigh rattled your lungs, anguish pooling in your chest like an oil spill. You let Logan drag your hand away from his stomach and to his face. Your crimson-stained fingers traced along the tough skin of his jaw.

“Always taking care of me,” he mumbled. Kind eyes ran across your pained expression. 

He tucked his fingers under your chin and brought your mouth to his. Plump, full lips met chapped skin. You poured your devotion into the kiss, licking into Logan’s mouth and clutching at his white tank top. His fingers dug in your silken hair.

It wasn’t perfect. It never was, when it came to Logan. Nearly thirty years of being together had taught you that fact. He was messy, rude, rough around the edges. Not to mention metal-clawed and built like a fridge.

And yet, despite it all, he was yours. You woke up next to him every morning, went to bed with him every night, much like you’d done ever since you met. Your lives were so intertwined it was hard to tell where you stopped and he began.

You knew, decades after Logan was gone, you’d treasure your intimate connection like nothing else.

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[theunsinkableship1]

Friends the one with the mirrors

⚠️#lukolaship skip if you don't believe.

This week has been a heavy and painful one on the Lukolaship. Nicola Coughlan a person whose kindness, talent, and heart have touched so many is facing a wave of hate and hostility simply because she stood in solidarity with trans rights which is admirable

It’s easy, in hard moments, to feel overwhelmed by the ugliness out there. But the truth is: love is louder. Solidarity is stronger. Kindness will always outlast cruelty.

It is important to emphasize that hate should not be directed towards anyone, sending love to Nicola, her friends and everyone standing for dignity and inclusion. Hate has no place here.

Yesterday’s news felt like a small fracture, one we’ve sensed coming for a while, yet hoped might shift course. Nicola appears to have re-launched a relationship on the red carpet with someone who is not Luke. For many of us who’ve followed the story of Lukola with curiosity and admiration, those of us who have quietly hoped, believed, and felt something rare in the space between her and Luke, it stung, not out of resentment, but out of reverence. It marked a shift. The soft fading of a path we imagined brightly lit.

It’s not surprising, though. This has been the trajectory implied since summer 2024. The media breadcrumbs, the distancing, the new alignments, they've all pointed to this narrative. And still, here we are. Still believing. Still showing up with open eyes and hearts.

This isn’t delusion. It’s not denial. It’s about honoring something we’ve seen with our own eyes an extraordinary connection between two people that sparked not only on-screen, but in rare, unguarded moments off it. It's about intuition, patterns, silences, and symbolism. And yes, it’s about love, however complicated, quiet, or off-limits it may be. But because some connections don’t just disappear when the headlines change.

“I will go down with this ship And I won’t put my hands up and surrender.”

Because this never felt ordinary.

And even if we can even begin to comprehend,

We understand this is their life, not ours. They don’t owe us answers. If Nicola is happy, that matters. If Luke is at peace, we’re grateful. But belief, when grounded in truth and tempered with grace, isn’t something you simply abandon because circumstances shift. We don’t stop believing in the sun just because it's cloudy. The truth, as always, reveals itself in time.

For many of us, Lukola was never just about shipping two actors. It was about the rare kind of chemistry that transcends performance. It was the softness between takes, the quiet care, the electric stillness in their shared glances. It was how safe they seemed around each other, how joy radiated in their presence. It felt real, like something not manufactured, not scripted. Like magic, yes, but the kind of magic that only exists when something true is underneath it.

And you don’t just unsee that. You don’t forget how it made you feel. You don’t owe detachment just because the story didn’t go the way you hoped.

None of this is about hating anyone, certainly not their supposed current partners. Most of us are not interested in interfering, or in stirring anything up. We just… care. And we’re trying to process it kindly. Respectfully. Quietly holding space for something that feels luminous.

So, no, we won’t be waving white flags. Because we’re not fighting anyone. We’re simply choosing to wait with love. To hope without pressure. To imagine without expectation.

Because here’s the thing: something’s still mirroring.

"It’s like you’re my mirror, my mirror staring back at me."

One of the more curious patterns that’s emerged over time is how much Luke and Nicola seem to one another. Even now, as they appear on separate tracks, there are synchronizations, emotional, visual, tonal. It’s like a dance of shadows. Like the same song heard in two different rooms. They seem to respond to each other instinctively not as scripted characters, but as two real people who have grown deeply connected, whether they can show it openly or not.

The mirroring between Luke and Nicola has become one of the most fascinating, emotionally loaded aspects of this journey, something subtle, yet too consistent to ignore. Whether it’s in interviews, social media timing, fashion, or even the emotional tone of their public appearances, it feels as though they’re unconsciously (or very consciously) moving in tandem. We’ve seen the pattern enough times now that it can’t be purely coincidence: when one of them steps forward, the other retreats. When one posts something emotional, the other echoes it days later with a similar mood. Their energy shifts seem to occur in tandem even when they’re physically apart or not interacting publicly.

And it brings to mind Justin Timberlake’s “Mirrors,” a song often used for Polin edits, but hauntingly fitting for Lukola, too. “It’s like you’re my mirror, my mirror staring back at me.” That lyric carries the weight of connection of unfinishedness, of two people bound beyond words.

So, what could this mirroring mean? What is happening? Here are a few theories:

This mirroring goes beyond surface-level synchronicities. It feels emotional. Symbolic. Like two people tethered, whether consciously or not.

The Soulbond Theory

The most intuitive theory of all: they’re soul connected. Not necessarily in a romantic fairytale way but in the sense of two people who recognize each other on a deeper frequency. Some bonds are simply there, whether or not they’re acted on. The mirroring, in this case, would be the quiet truth of souls still aware of each other. It will explain why they ignite so much fire and passion on so many levels.

The Parallel Journey Theory

“And now it’s clear as this promise, that we’re making two reflections into one…”

They’re on parallel paths that haven’t crossed back yet but still might. They’ve been growing, evolving, healing, learning, becoming separately. But the mirroring suggests a spiritual alignment. They’re becoming the versions of themselves that could finally meet at the right time.

Perhaps their journeys are still aligned, but not yet converged. Sometimes people walk separate roads only to meet again when the time is right.

We see both of them stepping into new chapters Nicola with more vulnerability and boldness, Luke with introspection and quiet growth. They seem to glow up in rhythm. It feels like they’re building the versions of themselves that could, one day, reunite.

The mirrors aren’t just reflecting now they’re preparing for later. They’re growing in ways that may allow them to reunite from a place of deeper readiness.

The Hidden Communication Theory

“Show me how to fight for now, and I’ll tell you, baby, it was easy…”

Another possibility? They’re responding to each other in code. Not necessarily literally but emotionally, symbolically. When public closeness is restricted, mirroring becomes a subtle way of communicating. We’ve noticed it: Songs and words posted on one side, echoed emotions on the other. Softness on red carpets. Thoughtful timing. The silence speaks. Perhaps the mirroring isn’t just unconscious, they’re aware of what they’re doing. They’re offering a kind of silent reassurance. It’s not for the world. It’s for each other. Like sending smoke signals across the hills.

The Emotional Residue Theory

“Aren’t you something to admire, cause your shine is something like a mirror…”

This theory suggests they were once romantically, spiritually emotionally involved maybe deeply and that connection left a lasting imprint. Even if they’ve moved into new relationships or directions, the energetic blueprint remains. Like twin stars that once orbited the same system, their movements still reflect each other. That could explain why their energy still shifts in sync, even when they aren’t seen together.

We see it in matching moods, parallel themes in interviews, or social posts that seem emotionally in conversation with each other. It’s not staged. It’s not necessarily conscious. It’s just... resonance. Still flickering under the surface.

The Timing Mismatch Theory

They did feel something real during filming. Maybe it was love, or the seed of it. But the timing wasn't right. One or both of them were emotionally unavailable or focused on their careers. So, they made a choice: to preserve the friendship or leave the connection undefined for now. But real feelings like that don’t vanish, they pause. Maybe what we witnessed was a beginning that hasn't found its middle yet.

The Private Pact Theory

They are or were together but chose early on to keep it under wraps due to personal values, family privacy, or career strategy. They may have separated quietly or are still quietly present in each other’s lives. A “soft pause” rather than a breakup. In this theory, the heart of their bond is intact, but they're not making it public and perhaps never will.

The Image Management Theory

There may have been (or still are) real contractual or PR-related factors shaping how Luke and Nicola appear to the public. Whether it’s brand deals, Netflix strategy, or other alignments, what we see might be curated. In this reading, current public appearances don’t necessarily reflect emotional truth. And in time, the curtain may drop.

The Emotional Delay Theory

They’ve both felt the pull but haven’t acted on it romantically yet. Maybe they're still figuring it out. Maybe the weight of fan attention actually made them more cautious. The myth of Lukola grew so big, so fast it’s possible they needed to step back and ask themselves what’s real and what’s projection. And they might still be doing that, privately, in their own way.

The Red Herring Theory

The current relationships are real, but they might not be permanent. Like many in adulthood, these could be stepping-stone relationships. Good people, good timing, but not the person. This theory doesn’t deny Nicola’s or Luke’s perceived happiness now it just holds space for change. Not everything we see today is forever.

What can we make of this? I don’t know why things turned out this way, but it's clear they want us to perceive their relationships as they show now, and they choose to identify as friends. While I trust what I saw, which seemed more than friendship, and I’m pretty sure that it clearly went beyond that at one point. Their chemistry was unique and their comfort with each other exceeded professional norms. Their emotional mirroring suggests a deep personal bond. There is logic in seeing something special and reason behind our intuition. We recognized something genuine, even if the full truth isn’t public. Because we heard the truth even when it wore a costume. The connection between Luke and Nicola was real enough, consistent enough, and alive enough that it didn’t need "proof." It was evident in their eyes, their body language, their protective instincts toward one another, the ways they looked for each other, comforted each other, shielded each other especially during the most intense times and in spring and early summer 2024. After that, it’s unclear and very much complicated, because life happens, perhaps they couldn’t say it clearly or weren’t ready. Timing and life might have played a role, circumstances shift, private decisions are made, and public appearances aren't always faithful reflections of private truths, still the authenticity of what existed between them does not vanish

I know what I saw. I know what it meant. I honor it, I cherish it, but I also release it into the hands of time. Whatever is real will remain real. I trust that truth does not need my control to survive.

Some truths belong to the people living them, and it is enough for me to know that, once, something extraordinary touched the world and I was lucky enough to recognize it.

We are not lost. We are not adrift. We are simply moving with the quiet rhythm of time, believing that what was true once, still hums beneath the surface. No matter how silent the water grows, we remain aboard, steadfast, at peace. Sailing not with noise or force, but with the quiet, elegant grace of knowing: the heart remembers. And that is enough.

I will not abandon this ship. I will step back a little for now, not out of disbelief, but out of love and to show some respect and put less pressure on them. Out of trust in time, in life, and in the freedom of hearts to follow their true paths.

Whatever was real will always be real. We’ve seen their true colors. And they’re beautiful.

If all things in time, time will reveal. And we’ll be back on.

Remember this⚓

[darklinaforever]

Well, globally I still really liked the Saurondriel / Haladriel scene.

Even if I don't see where the comparison comes from at the request of Kylo Ren / Ben Solo to Rey in The Last Jedi...

There is not even a real renewal of the demand for season 1 in fact technically speaking in my opinion.

Although I did appreciate that Sauron said he didn't want to harm Galadriel at first. That he would have placed the crown on his head, done everything so that Middle Earth would revere its queen, etc. I also appreciated the moment where he took the form of Halbrand and even that of Galadriel to show her in his twisted way that everything was not a lie and that they are alike. I also enjoyed the tear in his eye when he watches Galadriel reveal herself before demanding Nenya after he actually stabbed her. I'll take every scrap I can get from this doomed ship.

On the other hand, I don't understand those who say that this scene confirms that all of season 1 was just a deception by Sauron towards Galadriel.

I'm sure you're disappointed, because I am disappointed myself. But I don't see at all where their whole scene confirms that Sauron would have fooled Galadriel all season 1.

On the contrary, he literally tells her that she attributes to him a purpose that he did not predict, with the eregion currently, and that everything that made them seem similar was not entirely a lie/a deception, etc.

Here, it's clearly just the frustration of the moment that makes a certain person say anything.

Personally, I'm a little disappointed that Sauron ultimately really hurt Galadriel. Even if my imaginative mind sees this moment as the only equivalent of symbolically phalic penetration that there will ever be between them 🤭. And above all, this blow was not aimed at killing her at all. Because if he had wanted it, she would already be dead. We have seen how easily he can kill someone.

Also, I've seen people theorize that this crown going into Galadriel's flesh could actually strengthen the bond between them later, and why not ! I'm hooked ! This could totally work !

Overall, I'm disappointed that he didn't let her keep Nenya. How logical that would have been to me, as supposed proof to see that he really loves her in this finale. Even though we still see Sauron's feelings for her, it's not to the point of a particular moment that would undeniably prove his feelings to idiots who already don't understand him, and still don't understand him.

I'm disappointed that I was promised a new request scene when technically not, although I enjoyed Sauron's dialogue all the same.

But most of all, I'm disappointed that he let Galadriel fall off that cliff. You're not going to make me believe that with his powers, he couldn't save her ?! Especially since he wanted Nenya, so why not try to get her back with magic ?! Why is he just holding out his hand towards Galadriel with a shocked expression on his face ?! Use your powers damn't !

Although I imagine that as enemies they will often try to kill each other, yes, obviously. I just expected it to be more save for later than now (at least from Sauron watching Galadriel fall), literally their first reunion since the separation.

Does Sauron think Galadriel is dead ? Or that she just escaped from him ? It was (first option or the second) he so angry about this that he killed the orc on the spot ? Or is it because he just didn't get Nenya ? I think a mix of the two personally, Sauron having had a tear in his eye watching Galadriel get up earlier.

In fact, I think I would have been pretty much satisfied with their scene, if I hadn't been sold that we would particularly see that Sauron really loves Galadriel in this finale. That there was a scene similar to Kylo's request to Rey from The Last Jedi, and that Sauron would never stop trying to make Galadriel his queen. Because that's not really what we got.

Because overall I like this scene.

Sauron shows emotion there, the desire not to hurt Galadriel at the start, expresses that everything was not a lie between them, tries in his twisted way to prove that they are similar, that the door to Galadriel's mind is always open to him, says that he would have done anything for her to be queen and revered, has a tear in his eye when he sees her get up after having hurt her, etc.

But overall, this scene between them was half-hearted and could have been written so much better. Wasted potential. Especially after all the crumbs laid out in each episode in anticipation of this meeting, and what was a teaser in an interview for the so-called finale between them.

But I'll take what I get, and in the future won't listen to the cast / creator interviews for this show, just to settle for what the Saurondriel / Haladriel scenes really are.

[stereopticons]

On This Day in Schitt's Creek: March 7

2018

Holding On [david/patrick, T, 1,107] by whoaaitsmichelle

SPOILERS FOR 4.07 Basically a fix it fic for the end of the episode.

2019

One Week [david/patrick, E, 51,513] by lettered

Every day of the first week of David and Patrick's relationship.

2020

my mind is set on you [david/patrick, T, 3,642] by @kiranerys42

David and Patrick end up having a sleepover after all.

Summer is More Than Freedom [david/patrick, E, 46,691] by @eponymiad @ships-to-sail

“My family, um. We — they — actually own the camp?” “Oh,” is all Patrick says, and it’s a two-letter word with two million meanings and David doesn’t know how he’s supposed to hear it when it comes out of Patrick’s mouth. “That’s, um. Wow.” “What ‘wow’?” “I’ve just never met anyone whose parents owned a summer camp before.” “It’s a camp, not the diamond from Titanic.” “The what?” *David and Patrick spend six summers together, first as campers, then as counselors, always as best friends.

Surprised [david/patrick, T, 11,624] by @delilah-mcmuffin

What if Johnny never inadvertently outed Patrick at the start of Meet the Parents? How would things have gone down?

To The Great Unknown [david/patrick, M, 75,956] by @deenerann

Alternate Universe- David owns a gay bar in New York. Patrick mistakenly stumbles into it on his first day there. It's the best mistake he ever made.

2021

Cause you're there for me, too [david/patrick, G, 3,438] by @designatedgrape

“Um, why did Alexis send you a package?” Patrick pulls out the layers of paper meant to protect whatever it is during shipping, and reveals a white coffee mug with black lettering. “Oh my god,” he breathes. “What?” Patrick lifts the mug reverently out of the box and presents it to David. David rears back in horror. “She’s dead.”

Desperate Times [david/patrick, T, 5,100] by @trueillusion82

It started in the middle of the night, with a soft whine that roused Patrick from sleep. But Patrick was a light sleeper and David was a talker who was also prone to nightmares, so that was nothing unusual. Patrick was used to providing comfort in the wee hours of the morning, be it because of a bad dream or an anxiety attack, or anything in between. “Hey,” Patrick said softly as he flicked on the bedside lamp and rolled over to face his husband, his hand already gravitating toward David’s arm. “You okay?” Normally, David’s response would be to give a short, quick nod, despite the tightly closed eyes and occasional tears that always belied his answer. This time, however, there was no nod -- only another pained groan as David squeezed his eyes shut and curled even further in on himself.

Equatorial Guinea [gen, G, 300] by Rosey_Peach

Gossip is the devil's telephone [david/patrick, T, 4,555] by @grapehyasynth

Meet the Parents redux - David and Patrick really are just business partners, even though the entire town seems to think they're secretly dating. When the Brewers come to town for Patrick's birthday, Johnny's just trying to find out if they know anything about that whole situation. Turns out they knew even less than he did.

I Want Them To Know [stevie & david, T, 1,761] by @agoodpersonrose

“I have to tell you something.” Stevie comes out to two of the most important people in her life.

Kiss me in the morning [david/patrick, T, 499] by @lastchancecafe13

David planned to take full advantage of this chance to wake up together. He kept his eyes closed, luxuriating in the late morning sun. He pulled his husband’s warm, compact, body against him and snuggled into their shared pillow. Patrick shifted and let out a sleepy sigh but he didn’t move to get up. David let his hand trace an abstract pattern across Patrick’s chest as his own mind wandered. _____________________ Just some soft morning husbands.

my breath and my heart (got taken by you) [david/patrick, T, 1,826] by @blackandwhiteandrose

David shifts his weight from foot to foot, squirming like an impatient child. Something about the way Patrick is looking at him has him pinned in place, unable to break away from the intensity of his gaze. He doesn’t even know how to interpret what he’s seeing, because he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like that before.

the missing piece i need [david/patrick, G, 1,021] by @swiftlythebest

Everything's the same except Patrick sings the Camp Rock classic, Gotta Find You, at the open mic night.

2022

[Podfic] The Last Rose Video [david/patrick, M, podfic] by Amanita_Fierce

Patrick Brewer is the owner of the last Rose Video in the world in the tiny town of Schitt's Creek. His life and his business are turned upside down when David Rose is sent by his father to close the store for good. A temporary truce and a growing attraction have the potential to forever alter the future of the store and the men involved. Podfic of The Last Rose Video by Distractivate.

A Life Extraordinary [david/patrick, G, 1,270] by @fictasticvoyage

It's Patrick's birthday! He and David take a trip to celebrate.

i'll be loving you if you just dare me [david/patrick, M, 5,586] by @simplymarleycat

After his Blouse Barn windfall, David treats himself to a weekend of clubbing (and maybe a random or two) in Toronto before he decides his next steps in Schitt's Creek. But when things don't go quite to plan, a chance meeting might just send David on a new and better path. A meet-cute (and a couple other tropes) about changing plans, daring yourself to be honest, and finally going for what you want.

Surface Tension [david/patrick, E, 6,894] by @im-televisions-moira-rose

Patrick watches him and waits to hear the bathroom door shut before following, legs still a little numb. He grabs another towel from the linen closet and then, once in his room, spreads it on the bed, laying the jacket carefully on top of it and flipping on his ceiling fan, using the pull cord to turn it to its highest setting. Then he steps back from the bed as it picks up speed, leaning against his dresser and scrubbing his hands over his face; there’s an eighty percent chance that he humiliates himself completely before this is all over. David Rose is naked in his bathroom. David Rose is wet and naked in his bathroom. He might never recover from this. David gets caught in a sudden downpour and ends up on Ray's doorstep.

you, emboldened you [david/patrick, T, 2,466] by AnnieMallistic

I know that this wasn’t brand new for you. You’d already asked somebody else. The secret I continue to keep is that it wasn’t new ground for me either. In this, we are not each other’s first. But we are each other’s second chance. A David introspection wherein someone else proposed to him in his youth

2023

[Art] is this too much of a #thirsttrap? [gen, T, art] by @lizzie-bennetdarcy

A scene from nontoxic's "I'd Swing With You for the Fences". David's Instagram #thirsttrap for Patrick

Enter Left [david/patrick, G, script] by mallpretzles

A transcript of David entering Patrick’s apartment inspired by I Love Lucy.

Hurried [david/patrick, M, 100] by @sspaz1000

After the I love you's, David and Patrick get some alone time at Rays.

Ink [david/patrick, G, 100] by @ramonaflow

100 words based on the Tumblr prompt: Ink

2024

Secretly Admiring You [david/patrick, NR, 9,103] by @vanillahigh00

David wants someone to care about him however is feeling pretty hopeless about finding his person while living in Schitt's Creek. The new guy in town is distracting David while someone else is trying to attract David's attention. Will he find his person?

Stats

No fanworks for 2017 2018: 1 fic/1,107 words 2019: 1 fic/51,513 words 2020: 4 fics/137,913 words 2021: 8 fics/18,500 words 2022: 5 fanworks (4 fics, 1 podfic)/16,411 words 2023: 4 fanworks (2 fics, 1 fanart, 1 script)/200 words 2024: 1 fic/9,103 words Total: 24 fanworks (21 fics, 1 podfic, 1 fanart, 1 script)/234,747 words

[starzzmissthesun]

Hey guys, I feel the need to go into more depth about a post I made a while ago because I feel like some of y'all didn't get what I meant, and I see so many takes just like what I'm about to talk of. Ok, so I've been seeing lots of posts recently about bartylus being one of three things; fwb who don't actually have feelings for each other, being ex's, or 'the third thing'. I mean if you believe these things, no hate or anything to you, to each their own, but just listen to what my perspective is of this. I'm mainly making this post because most of the things I see in the bartylus tag are from the POV of those three things, it's annoying to see when there are people who actually ship them.

So for one, I really don't think they could have that romance and the physical aspect without having any feelings for eachother. I mean, think about it. They are truly best friends to no end, they love and see eachother different than everyone else. This is true in SO MANY fics and takes on them, no matter who they're paired with. They already act like an old married couple, so they would eventually catch feelings (if not already). I understand lots of people say that they could, just because its more of a trauma bond and being with someone you trust. I agree that they have been through a lot together and trust each other more than anyone, but I also think that it would turn into something more. Being so close would definitely make it hard to separate and see the line between their physical relation and how they feel for each other.

And my next point, which was what my og post was about, they couldnt be exes, especially if they were in love. The first thing is that they DO love eachother, you wouldn't date your BEST FRIEND if you weren't. I mean really, those two loved their other friends, they knew what it was like to love a friend platonically. If you are so used to being punished and criticized, you would have to be very aware of how you feel about people/recognizing the differences(this goes for both of them). Especially when you think about the social repercussions of them being gay in families like that, but also the way their families are so opposite that they would probably get in trouble for even being friends. They loved eachother a lot and would not just, get over each other. When you have something so special like that and remain best friends, its hard to fall out of love, especially if its not that long from them stopping that they get with other people. What even would change about them other than who they kiss? I feel like every time they were with their respective partners they would catch each others eyes every once in a while and think this is wrong. The kind of love they would have for each other (even if you believe this platonically) would be made of devotion and loyalty and reverence. They couldn't just get over each other, where would all of those feelings go? They just disapear? They turn platonic? No, they would stay, something so intense wouldnt just go away. What could they want that they couldn't find in each other? I mean back to the whole it being nothing more than the m being secret and because they trusted each other, i mean doesn't that just speak to the love they have for each other, which brings me to the point of them unable to be The Third ThingTM.

The third thing is the trope people use for tragic characters that were never just friends, but never quite romanitc. But the thing is, they both could never be casual about eachother, they hold each other so close and so sweetly, especially as a first (last and only) love, they would never let go. @dolcevitaaa26 made a post about this, and also said a big part of the trope is that the reason it's not quite romantic is because it's not enough, there's something missing. But, like i said, what could be missing/not enough in a relationship that is built upon true understanding and acceptance? They couldn't be vague, not with that person SO IMORTANT that theyd keep in their lives forever. And they would, if they didn't have each other theyd never stop thinking about each other. Even if they were Just Friends, they are each other's Person in every aspect. They understand each other in a way no one else could. How could you lose that person? How could you not hold them so close to your chest that you merge, that you are one? They are inseparable, it is indistinguishable where one begins and the other ends. They are definitely unique and different from what anyone else has, but in a way that would be perfect for eachother, it would be romantic if anything.

I mean all of these things given, especially the fact of being something so perfect for eachother, would be put before anyone else. If youre going to have them have exes within your ship, because at th end of the day ship what you want to, don't have it be with eachother. I just say that because the implications of that feel the same way of people making james date lily after reg dies, reg and barty wouldn't get over eachother. It's fine if you see them as totally platonic, but make them platonic, because they are not casual people, they couldn't be in between for each other. And do you reall want your ship to have one of them still loving another? Just some food for thouhgt. I could say more, but this is already too nonsensical and long.

[cynic-spirit]

The Staff

Bucky had always prided himself on running a tight ship, but he couldn't help but notice a remarkable shift in the atmosphere whenever Yn walked into the club. The staff, who were already diligent, seemed to take their dedication up a notch the moment she arrived. It was as if her presence alone commanded a silent reverence and respect that was palpable throughout the room.

Before Yn's arrival, the staff moved with their usual efficiency���servers attending to customers, bartenders crafting drinks, and security ensuring everything ran smoothly. Bucky observed the usual hustle and bustle from his spot near the bar, feeling a sense of satisfaction at how well things operated under his watchful eye.

But the moment Yn stepped through the door, there was a noticeable shift. Conversations hushed slightly, and heads turned to acknowledge her presence. Servers discreetly checked her usual table, ensuring it was spotless and perfectly arranged. The chair was straightened, and a glass of cold water appeared almost magically, waiting for her. The bartender, Jake, polished a glass with an extra bit of care, and even the lighting seemed to adjust, casting a warm, inviting glow in her direction.

teve leaned against the bar, a thoughtful expression on his face. "You know, Buck, I think the staff here might be afraid of us, but they genuinely adore her."

Bucky nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched Yn interact with a server who was clearly delighted by her attention. "Yeah, look at them. They practically light up when she walks in."

Steve chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "It's like she brings out the best in everyone. Even Jake over there is polishing glasses with extra care, just because she's here."

Bucky glanced over at the bartender, who was indeed giving the glass an unnecessary extra shine. "She has that effect. Makes people want to be better, do better."

Steve shook his head in wonder. "It's impressive. You and I, we command respect, maybe even fear. But her? She commands admiration. They respect her because they want to, not because they have to."

Bucky sighed contentedly, leaning back. "That's why I love her, Steve. She’s got this way of making everyone feel important, seen. It's not just about me or what I do. She’s genuinely interested in people."

Steve grinned, watching as Yn laughed at a joke one of the servers made. "And she does it all effortlessly. I don't think she even realizes the impact she has."

Bucky's eyes softened as he watched Yn. "She doesn't. She just thinks she's being herself, but that’s what makes her so special. She's authentic."

Steve nodded in agreement. "You've got a good one, Buck. A really good one."

Bucky smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. "I know, Steve. I really do. And you know what? I think they all know it too."

They both fell silent for a moment, simply enjoying the sight of Yn as she continued to move through the club, her grace and warmth leaving an indelible mark on everyone she interacted with.

Bucky couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and gratitude. He knew that Yn was a rare gem, someone who could effortlessly bridge the gap between his often harsh world and something softer, more humane. She brought a lightness that he desperately needed, and seeing the way she touched the lives of those around her only reinforced his love for her.

Steve clapped Bucky on the shoulder, pulling him out of his reverie. "You're a lucky man, Buck."

Bucky nodded, his eyes never leaving Yn. "I know, Steve. I really do."

As they stood there, two men who had seen more darkness than most, they found solace in the radiant light that Yn brought into their lives, making everything just a little bit brighter.

[sol-consort]

your roommate posts are so fun i was wondering what your take on like first few humans on the Citadel(say the year they got an embassy) and the impressions they left as roommatesXD

I'm glad you find them fun!

It's hard to say, the first humans on the Citadel must have been diplomats and political figures important enough to warrant having bodyguards. Getting their own housing and such.

I'd imagine no roommate situation allowed for humans yet, especially if a turian was already residing there. The first contact war made the human's notoriety spread far and wide, infamous for our "bloodthirst" and "aggressive cunning nature"

Skip a couple of years as the humans integrated into C-sec forces and we still held the bully reputation.

Sure, the other alien's views on use softened, but no one was going out of their way to befriend a human yet.

Especially, turians.

We picked on the golden goose of species, on the favourite child of the Citadel. When turians make up for more than 70% of all policeforce, it's easy to see why humans get misinterpreted as troublemakers by virtue.

Even the ones who admired humans did so in reverence to the alliance great feat of holding the line against the turian forces for three whole months. We were brand new, a newborn galactic species that just discovered mass relays, and the turians had all the advantages imaginable, yet it was them who suffered the greater mortality losses.

So both the good and bad rumours painted us in a very unkind yet strong picture.

Who would want someone like that to bunk near them? "What if the human sees me as weak? what if they pick on me? what if—" all very common doubts.

The Normandy by itself was deliberately a joint effort by the human alliance and turian hierarchy to mend relationships between the two species.

And yet, not a single turian was found aboard. At least not until Shepard recruited one. (Nihlus was a spectre, not a recruit. He was here for his own business)

Not out of malice for turians, but the first contact war memories were still fresh in Captian's Anderson mind, no doubt. All the friends he lost, all the horror he witnessed.

It would've taken years for aliens to start comfortably co-living with humans. If you couldn't afford to get your own place on the Citadel, your next step would be looking into human roommates because no other species would let you in.

But on other planets? Spaceships? It would've been a faster intergeneration.

A salarian who came to Earth to further his research only to realise how expensive everything is, deciding to look into shared housing, there were no other options besides a human. After a couple of weeks, he comes to the conclusion that you're not the vicious killer that your species's reputation makes you out to be...in fact, you're quite fun to be around.

A turian crew who were hired as security by a shipping company would eventually get used to the many humans on board, especially when the humans start inviting them to drinking games, poker night and to watch movies. They start appreciation the unique spirit humans have, one which they infected them with. becoming patients zeros to the "turian human are natural best friends" epidemic.

An asari scientist who was hired to terraform a new planet for human living, alongside the other human scientists. Working together and living in such close proximity in aluminium camps. She's wary of humans at first, doing her job then retreating to her own room. But the lack of communication really halts the progress of the mission, so she gives the humans a chance and starts attending their meetings, late night lab sessions...and it's way more casual than she expected. The atmosphere is light. It's just a bunch of scientists joking around whilst still getting work done.

-

Humans weren't the only ones with a bad reputation; qaurians and krogans shared our blight. When a human, a krogan and a qaurian walk into a bar, getting wasted drunk and complaining loudly about how they can't find a single shared housing plan because their snobby roommates keep rejecting them—only to spot each other across the bar and a figurative lightbulb lights up above their heads.

Renting an apartment together!

Yeah, the first to trust humans enough to become roommates with them weren't the "ever so righteous and benevolent" asari, or the "community service principled" turians, it wasn't even the "logic and rationality above else" salarians.

It was a quarian on her pilgrim, who spent all her money getting to the Citadel only to be faced with discrimination and blame for the geth situation.

It was a heartbroken krogan whose asari gf of 50 years just left him because her friends pressured her to. Only to end up realising how bad of an idea it was to keep the lease under her name.

Finding an offer online by a human who's looking for roommates, you already have an apartment—but the asari landlord raised the rent yet again, and working two jobs isn't cutting it—so you made a couple of posts online in roommate sites, yet all the offers you were given immediately pulled back once they realised you're a human.

Your post was like a beacon in the dark for them, they haven't even met a human before, but what's life without risk?

[expectiations]

3 for the ask game?

Ship: Joseph X Petra?

This took SOOOOO long (well, much longer than I planned it to be, that is) because I had been initially writing a missing scene between them before receiving this request and as I was thinking of how to go about this and where I should put it show canon wise, I realized it fits well as an ‘ending’ of sorts to my first piece and ended up agonizing over how I could bring them together narratively. But anyways, here it is!

Joseph watches her—not with the hunger or expectation she is accustomed to, but with something steadier, something patient, as if he has all the time in the world to understand her. It unsettles her, how much space he gives her, how he waits without pressing. She isn’t used to it. Isn’t used to him.

She exhales through her nose, her smirk forming instinctively—practiced, effortless, but softer now, its edges blurred by something she refuses to name. “Don’t tell me you’re going to look at me like that the whole time.”

Joe’s lips quirk, just barely. “Like what?”

She tilts her head, amusement laced through the quiet. “Like you think I’m going somewhere far.”

His brow furrows slightly, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “You’re not.”

No hesitation. No doubt. He believes she’ll be back, as if the possibility of anything else has never occurred to him. He carries certainty like an unshakable rhythm, quiet and unwavering. And for a fleeting moment, Petra aches to believe in it too, in the same way he does.

She exhales softly, feeling the weight of the moment settle in her chest as she straightens from where she had been leaning against the cabinet. Joseph mirrors her, pushing off from his perch on the desk. The shift is small, barely perceptible, but the space between them remains—two feet, maybe less, a distance that feels both close and unbreachable.

She tilts her head slightly, her voice even. "Well, I won't keep you. It's late, and you look like you've got work to finish."

Joseph doesn’t answer right away. He studies her, his gaze sweeping over her face with quiet intent, searching for something she isn’t sure she wants to surrender—can surrender. Then, without a word, he moves closer, closing the space between them, slow but certain.

The kiss unfolds like a slow exhale, warm and deliberate, his lips pressing into hers with a quiet intensity that lingers in the hush between them. There is no urgency, no desperation, only the steady certainty of it—something settled, something known. One hand finds her waist, grounding, anchoring, before sliding further, his arm encompassing her back, drawing her closer until there is nothing left between them. The other lifts to cradle the back of her neck, his thumb grazing lightly over her skin in slow, absent strokes. Petra exhales against his mouth, her fingers curling into his shirt, her eyes fluttering closed as she lets herself sink into the moment, holding on for just a moment longer than she should.

His lips move against hers with a slow reverence, deepening only slightly, as if tracing the memory of her into something tangible, something he can hold onto. The warmth of his palm at her nape is steady, fingertips pressing just enough to keep her close. She isn’t sure if it’s him or her who sighs first into the kiss, but the sound is there, small and unspoken, something neither of them will name.

When they part, she stays close, her forehead nearly brushing his. His breath is warm against her skin, steady, certain. A small, quiet thing.

She tells herself she should pull away, should sever this moment before it solidifies into something too real, too dangerous to carry with her. But she lingers. Just for a beat. Just for now.

“We’ll see each other again,” Joseph says, not as a question, but as something certain, something unquestioned. His hand lingers at her waist before slipping away, fingers trailing lightly over the fabric of her coat as if reluctant to break the contact. His other hand remains at her nape, thumb brushing back and forth in slow, absent strokes, as if committing the feel of her to memory. His posture remains easy, assured, but his gaze searches hers, holding onto something unspoken.

Petra smirks, not with the guise she used to wear when she first met him, but something genuine now, something softer, almost fond—but not because she allows it. "Of course. Can't let you miss Bach now, can I?"

He exhales a quiet laugh, his fingers brushing absently against her waist before he lets her go. "No, you won't," he murmurs, quiet, assured. She feels the absence of his touch immediately—more than she should, more than she wants to admit. Or maybe she doesn’t feel it at all, because she won’t let herself. He was just a means to an end in the first place—that’s what she tells herself, what she has to believe.

She steps back, reaching for her coat and slipping it back on, her hands disappearing into the pockets, fingers curling into fists. "And try to show up this time, will you?" Her tone is light, teasing, but her thoughts aren’t. It shouldn’t matter whether he comes or not. It shouldn’t matter at all. And yet, the words leave her mouth before she can stop them, betraying something she refuses to name. Something that lingers, quieter, harder to place.

Joseph shakes his head, amusement soft in his expression. “I won’t.”

She lets out a quiet hum, a small acknowledgment of his words, her gaze lingering on him. A soft smile flickers at her lips—brief, fleeting. They eye each other for a moment, something unspoken stretching between them, neither willing to break it first. And then, without a word, she turns and steps out into the night, the door left open behind her.

The air is cold, needling through fabric, curling against her skin, but it barely registers—drowned beneath the lingering heat of his touch, the ghost of his lips still pressed against hers. The city hums around her, streetlights pooling golden against the pavement.

She doesn’t look back.

She doesn’t have to.

He’ll be waiting.

Except, he won’t. Except, they will never see each other again. They part, unaware that this was already an ending—that fate had long since sealed their separation. The world will move on, indifferent to the weight of this moment, to the quiet tragedy sealed between them. The promise lingers in the air, fragile and unbroken, as if time itself believes in it—oblivious to the cruel turn awaiting them both. The next time their names are spoken, it will be in hushed tones, wrapped in the heaviness of things unfinished. Not in laughter, not in reunion—but in the quiet ache of what could have been.

No one will speak of them together, not really. To the world, Petra Mayler will be nothing more than Peter Glickman’s ex-lover, murderer, and the unlucky woman who tried to kill Gatehouse—a footnote in a story already written. And Joseph Bede? An accountant turned florist—never quite able to outrun the weight of the world he was tangled in. A drug dealer, a survivor for as long as survival would let him be, until it didn’t.

Joseph Bede will die alone, his name reduced to the cruel finality of a gunshot in the dark. He will not die with a name on his lips. His end will come sudden and brutal—expected, like a storm on the horizon, yet still flinching at the first crack of thunder. A gunshot will tear through the silence, his body left behind like an afterthought.

And Petra—Petra Mayler will die alone in a sterile room, the cold bite of the sheets pressing against her skin. Unlike Joseph, she will never see it coming. Her death will be as cruel as his, but in a different way—swift, unanticipated, stolen from her before she even has the chance to fight it. Her body will be left behind on the bed, her breath still rising and falling, but the Petra they knew—whatever part of her was truly alive—will already be gone.

Whatever tethered them in this moment will be severed, and no one will be left to remember it. Whatever was between them, whatever lingers now, will dissolve into silence—unnoticed, unspoken, and lost to time.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“War on Two Fronts” pt.8 (Final Part)

Captain Rex x Reader x Commander Bacara

The cantina had never felt so alive.

Over the last several weeks, she had joined the Bad Batch on a few of Cid’s more difficult jobs. Recovery runs, extractions, a few tight infiltration missions—each one forging a subtle bond between them. She and Hunter found common ground in silent understanding, Wrecker made her laugh despite herself, and even Tech, with his logic and curiosity, had started asking her opinion more often than not.

Cid still didn’t know her full story. The Trandoshan just assumed she was another burned-out merc who’d gone to ground after the war, hiding her past in the quiet monotony of bar work. And that suited the her just fine. The fewer people who knew, the safer everyone was.

But on one mission—one where they’d helped two bold sisters named Rafa and Trace Martez—she’d felt it again. That familiar pull in the Force, that reminder of what she used to be. Rafa had seen it too, maybe not for what it was, but she’d looked at her like someone who knew the fight wasn’t over yet. Trace had even asked if they’d ever met before.

She had only shaken her head. “Not in this lifetime.”

Now, back at Cid’s, sweaty and aching and dusty from another run, the Batch filed in ahead of her. Her boots dragged slightly, exhaustion settling in her bones like old echoes. She was about to hang her blaster at the rack when her breath caught—sharp, immediate, deep.

She felt him before she saw him.

The Force surged like a wave just under her skin. A presence wrapped in memory and loyalty and grief. Her head snapped up.

Standing in the corner of Cid’s parlor, talking low with Hunter, was Captain Rex.

He hadn’t changed much—still clad in familiar white and blue armor, cloak drawn over one shoulder, a little more wear on his face, a little more heaviness behind his eyes. His gaze was sharp as ever.

And then his eyes locked with hers.

The world fell away.

She didn’t breathe. Neither did he.

“Rex?” she said, barely a whisper.

Cid squinted at her. “Wait—you two know each other?”

Neither answered.

“Holy kriff,” Wrecker muttered.

The room fell into silence. Even Tech looked up from his scanner, blinking rapidly.

She took a step forward, heart in her throat. He took one too.

“…You’re alive,” Rex finally said.

“So are you,” she whispered back.

Rex’s voice broke just slightly. “I thought I lost you on Mygeeto.”

She wanted to say a thousand things. She wanted to cry. Or maybe scream. Instead, she smiled—tight and aching.

“You almost did.”

“You were reported dead,” Rex said, his voice lower now, almost reverent. “The logs said your ship was shot down before it cleared Mygeeto’s atmosphere. That you never made it off-world.”

She blinked, her mouth parting as if to speak, but nothing came at first. Her throat tightened.

“No,” she said finally. “That… never happened. I made it out clean. No damage. No one even fired at my ship.”

Rex stared at her, confusion shadowing his face. “That doesn’t make sense. That kind of discrepancy… someone altered the report.”

Her heart began to pound harder now, a slow, rising pressure like air being sucked out of the room.

A beat passed.

“…Bacara,” she said aloud, but not to Rex—more like to herself. The name slipped out like a bitter taste on her tongue.

It didn’t make sense. And yet, it did. The moment on the battlefield, when his blaster had locked on her with terrifying precision—then hesitated. Just for a breath. And she had felt something underneath the chip-induced obedience. A pause. A struggle.

And then the fake report.

Did he lie? The thought whispered through her like a crack of light through stormclouds. Did he lie to protect me?

But the thought was gone as quickly as it came—burned out by the searing heat of Rex’s presence.

“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, shaking it off, forcing herself back to the now. “I survived. That’s what matters.”

Rex wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking past her, to the others.

To the rest of the Batch.

His body tensed, like a wire pulled too tight.

“…You haven’t removed your chips,” Rex said suddenly, voice sharp and cold as a vibroblade.

The Bad Batch stilled.

“What?” Echo stepped forward. “Rex—”

“I said,” Rex growled, stepping into the middle of the group, “you haven’t removed your inhibitor chips. After everything we’ve seen—after what happened to her—you’re still walking around with those things in your heads?”

“We haven’t had an episode,” Tech offered calmly. “We believe our mutation suppresses its effectiveness.”

Rex’s hand hovered near his blaster now.

“Belief isn’t good enough. You’re a threat to her.”

The reader stepped between them, her heart in her throat.

“Rex—”

“No,” he said, not to her, but about her. “She barely survived the last time a squad turned on her. You really want to gamble her life again?”

Hunter met Rex’s fury head-on, calm but firm. “We’re not your enemy.”

“Not yet,” Rex snapped. “But I’ve seen what those chips do. I felt it tear my mind apart. You think just because you haven’t activated, it won’t happen? You don’t get to risk her.”

The reader put a hand on his chest, stopping him, grounding him.

“I can take care of myself,” she said quietly. “They’ve had plenty of chances. And they haven’t.”

But Rex’s gaze didn’t soften. Not yet.

“I lost everything,” he said, finally looking at her again. “Don’t ask me to stand by and watch it happen again. Not to you.”

⸻

The makeshift medbay in the old star cruiser felt colder than the cantina ever had. The surgical pod hissed softly as Tech monitored the vitals, his face pale in the glow of the console.

Wrecker sat on the edge of the table, visibly uneasy.

“I really don’t like this, guys,” he muttered, voice strained. “This doesn’t feel right.”

Hunter stepped forward, voice calm. “You’ll be okay. We’ve all done it now, Wreck. You’re the last one.”

The reader stood to the side, hands clasped tightly. She had helped on this mission, grown close to them over the weeks. The thought of any of them hurting her—or Omega—was almost impossible. But she’d seen what the chip could do. She had lived it.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Omega asked softly, standing near Wrecker’s knee.

Wrecker gave her a pained smile. “’Course I do, kid.”

She left his side reluctantly as Tech activated the procedure.

Then it began.

Sparks of pain registered on the screen—neural surges, error readings. Wrecker groaned, clutching his head.

The reader’s breath hitched.

“Tech?” Echo stepped forward. “That’s not normal—”

Wrecker’s growl cut through the room. His hands gripped the edges of the table until they bent under his strength.

He lunged.

Tech hit the emergency release—but too late. Wrecker was up, snarling, wild-eyed.

“You’re all traitors!” he shouted.

Hunter shoved Omega behind him. “Wrecker, fight it!”

“In violation of Order 66!” he bellowed, locking eyes with the reader.

She barely had time to ignite her saber as he charged.

They clashed hard—fist to blade. Sparks flew. Her heart pounded. He was trying to kill her.

He wasn’t Wrecker anymore.

“You don’t want to do this!” she cried, dodging as he smashed a console.

Echo and Hunter tried to flank him, but he threw them aside effortlessly. He moved toward Omega next—drawn to the Jedi-adjacent signature she carried.

“No!” the reader screamed, hurling him back with the Force.

That dazed him just long enough for Tech to line up the stun shot—two bursts of blue light—and Wrecker dropped to the ground, unconscious.

The silence afterward felt deafening.

Omega rushed into the reader’s arms, trembling.

“I-It wasn’t him,” she whispered. “That wasn’t Wrecker…”

The reader just held her tightly, blinking away her own tears.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

The cruiser’s medbay was quiet again, the hum of the equipment the only sound as Wrecker stirred.

He groaned, eyes fluttering open, then blinked blearily at the harsh lighting above. The reader stood near the far wall, arms crossed, eyes guarded. Omega was asleep in a nearby chair, curled up beneath a blanket.

Wrecker sat up slowly, then immediately winced. “Urgh… what happened?”

Hunter leaned forward, cautious. “You don’t remember?”

Wrecker rubbed his temple. “Just… pain. Then nothing.”

Tech stood near the console. “Your inhibitor chip activated. We had to stun you to prevent serious harm.”

Wrecker glanced around, gaze slowly landing on the reader. His heart dropped.

“I—I hurt you, didn’t I?” he rasped.

She didn’t speak at first. Her jaw was tight, her knuckles white where they gripped her sleeves.

“You tried to kill me,” she said quietly. “Tried to kill Omega.”

Wrecker’s shoulders slumped, devastated.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, barely able to get the words out. “I couldn’t stop it… I wasn’t me. I’d never hurt you. Or her.”

The reader finally stepped closer. “I know,” she said. “It wasn’t you. It was the chip.”

“But it was me,” Wrecker insisted. “It was my hands. My voice. I said those things…”

Omega stirred then, blinking awake. She saw Wrecker sitting up and scrambled over, hugging him fiercely before anyone could stop her.

He held her gently, cradling her as if she were made of glass. His voice cracked when he whispered, “I’m sorry, kid.”

“I forgive you,” she murmured.

The room went still.

The reader watched them, throat tight. The bruises on her arms still throbbed. But the sincerity in Wrecker’s voice, the pain in his eyes—it reached something inside her.

She gave a small nod. “So do I.”

Wrecker looked up, eyes glassy. “Really?”

She stepped closer, touching his shoulder. “You were the last one with that thing in your head. It’s over now. You’re still Wrecker.”

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath for days.

Echo gave him a nod. “You’re one of us. Always.”

Tech cleared his throat. “Now that we’re all… unchipped, we can begin operating more freely. No more sudden execution protocols.”

Hunter placed a hand on Wrecker’s arm. “We move forward together.”

Wrecker nodded slowly, and Omega curled back up beside him, calmer now.

The reader stepped back, quietly observing them.

Something had changed in her too. Watching them risk everything for one another, seeing how hard they fought to stay together, to be together—it stirred something she hadn’t let herself feel in a long time:

Hope.

⸻

Ord Mantell’s night air was thick with the scent of dust and ion fuel, the stars low and heavy above the cluttered skyline.

She stood alone on the overlook behind Cid’s parlor, arms folded against the breeze, her lightsaber weighing heavy at her side. It was the first time she’d clipped it there in months.

She didn’t flinch when Rex approached. She felt him before she heard him.

“You sure?” he asked, stopping beside her.

She nodded, slow. “Yeah.”

They stood in silence for a long time. The clatter of cantina noise bled faintly through the walls. Somewhere below, Wrecker was likely teaching Omega how to throw a punch without breaking her wrist. Echo would be reading. Hunter brooding. Tech lecturing some poor soul who made the mistake of asking a question.

They’d become a strange sort of family. And that made this harder.

“I’m not running,” she finally said. “Not from them. But I can’t keep hiding in a bar like the war never happened.”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” Rex said quietly.

She turned to look at him, really look at him—his expression weary, but his posture still sharp. There was always weight behind his gaze, but now it was heavier. Lonelier. She recognized it. She felt it too.

“I think I owe them a goodbye,” she said.

⸻

Inside, the Batch were gathered around the table. She stood before them, her saber now visibly clipped to her hip.

They all turned. Omega was the first to speak. “You’re leaving?”

“I am,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake. “With Rex.”

A beat of silence.

Hunter stood. “You’re sure?”

She nodded. “You all gave me something I didn’t realize I needed. But I can’t stay here while there’s still a fight out there.”

Tech removed his goggles briefly, nodding with rare sincerity. “You’ve always been capable. I suspected it the moment I saw you cleaning barstools like you’d rather stab someone.”

That earned a faint laugh, even from her.

Wrecker stepped forward, wrapping her in a careful, crushing hug. “Just don’t get shot or anything.”

“I’ll try not to,” she muttered into his chestplate.

Echo approached last, meeting her gaze with quiet understanding. “Stay safe. And if you ever need us—”

“I’ll find you,” she said. “I promise.”

Omega flung herself into her arms, teary-eyed but brave. “Will you visit?”

“If I can,” she whispered. “I’ll try.”

⸻

Outside again, Rex waited by the speeder. She joined him in silence, the saber at her hip now humming softly against her side.

“You ready?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “But I’m going anyway.”

Rex smirked faintly. “Good answer.”

They mounted the speeder, and as it took off into the dark, she didn’t look back.

Not because she didn’t care.

But because it hurt too much.

And because the future waited.

⸻

*Time Skip*

The AT-TE creaked in the dry wind, its repurposed hull groaning like an old man settling into bed. Panels of mismatched metal were welded over the gaps, creating a patchwork home that had weathered years of storms, dust, and silence. A line of vapor-trapped cables ran down from a salvaged power generator, and the front cannon had long since been converted into a lookout perch—with an old caf pot hanging just beneath it.

Out here on Seelos, nothing moved fast—except time.

She sat alone atop the forward deck, legs dangling over the edge, her lightsaber in a locked case at her feet. She hadn’t opened it in years. Some days she forgot it was even there. Other days, her hand would rest on it unconsciously, like a phantom limb that still itched.

Behind her, laughter echoed from inside—Gregor’s wild cackle, Wolffe grumbling that something in the stew “smelled too fresh,” and Rex… softer now, slower in his step, but still unmistakably him.

He didn’t wear armor anymore. Not really. The old pauldrons were used as patch plates on the AT-TE, and his helmet rested on a shelf with a layer of dust thick enough to write in. His hair was white now, and his back bent a little more with each passing year. She could see the toll the war had taken on his body—clones weren’t built for longevity. But his eyes? Those still held that sharp, earnest fire when he looked at her.

They had made a quiet life together. A small garden. A stripped-down comm dish for the occasional transmission. She cooked. He read. Some mornings they sat in silence with caf, the sun rising red over the Seelos horizon like blood on sand.

And yet, there were moments—when the wind howled just so, or when night came too quiet—when her thoughts drifted elsewhere.

To him.

To Bacara.

She hadn’t seen him since Mygeeto. Since she watched him gun down Master Mundi without hesitation—since he turned on her with no emotion at all, like a stranger wearing a familiar face. But sometimes, she wondered. He’d lied in his report. She was sure of it. He said her ship was shot down before it breached the atmosphere… but it wasn’t. He let her go.

Why?

And where was he now?

Did he ever think about her? Did the chip ever break like it did in Rex? Or did he die a soldier, still bound to the Empire? Still hunting Jedi in the shadows of a life that used to mean more?

She shook the thought away.

She had Rex.

And this peace… this was real.

The perimeter alarm chirped—one long tone, then two short. A ship. Small. Civilian or rebel-modified. Old programming still made her spine go rigid.

She stood, heart steady but alert, as the vessel descended into view. The dust curled beneath it, kicking up into the dusk-lit sky.

By the time it touched down, she was already at the foot of the AT-TE, hand hovering instinctively near the saber case tucked behind the front hatch.

Then the ramp lowered.

She felt it.

The Force.

Before they even stepped out.

Two Jedi.

A Mandalorian.

And a Lasat.

Ezra Bridger emerged first, cautious and respectful. Sabine Wren followed, helmet in hand, and Zeb let out a low grunt of approval at the sight of the old war walker.

And then him.

The Jedi.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Not because he was a stranger.

Because he wasn’t.

Caleb Dume.

He didn’t look the same—not exactly. Older now, guarded. His hair longer, beard fuller, movements tighter like someone who had lived on the edge too long.

But she knew those eyes.

“Kanan Jarrus,” he introduced himself, stepping forward.

She didn’t return the greeting immediately. Her voice was quiet. “I knew you as Caleb.”

He stiffened, face unreadable. The others exchanged a glance. The Lasat’s hand twitched near his weapon, but Hera gently put a hand on his arm.

Kanan didn’t deny it. “Then you’re…?”

“I was with Master Mace Windus second padawan,” she said. “I remember you at the Temple. You were small. Loud. You used to sneak into the archives to look at holos of war reports.”

His expression softened. “That sounds like me.”

“You survived.”

“So did you.”

They stood in silence for a moment. The past stretched like a shadow between them.

Ezra finally stepped in. “Do the numbers CT-7567 mean anything to you? Ashoka Tano said he might help us establish a network… fight back against the Empire.”

Behind her, footsteps thudded—Rex stepping out of the AT-TE, wiping his hands with a rag, eyebrows raised as he spotted the group.

“Told ya they’d find us eventually,” Gregor called from the hatch, cheerful as ever.

The reader didn’t take her eyes off Kanan.

He was studying Rex, but his focus kept flicking back to her.

She could feel the tension like a storm behind his eyes. The chip. Order 66. Old scars. Unspoken pain.

She understood. But this wasn’t about the past anymore.

This was the beginning of something new.

A new hope.

⸻

Previous Chapter

[ravenlexis]

Hellloooo I just wanted to say THANK GOODNESS there’s someone else out there that doesn’t like the damsel in distress depictions done of Dr. Ratio/Aventurine. I honestly started looking into fan content a bit later on when people had already settled on the 3 ship names but I don’t understand why nobody ever just chose “ratirine” or something else to signify an equal relationship or a neutral ship tag. It seems like all the ship tags act as a neutral ship (by that I mean, just general content of the two, romantic, platonic, either topping, etc) tag but ratiorine is the most common these days.

I think they both experience periods of vulnerability but they’re also both dealing with a lot of emotional blockage due to what they’ve experienced in their respective lives. And the entire point of their relationship is that they’re both two extremely smart, independent capable men. To have one top over the other requires a clear communication of trust and being truly vulnerable, opening yourself up to the only other person in the world that won’t judge you. And to reduce that dynamic to just one or the other all the time seems wrong to me. Like I think they can switch off, although there will be times where one prefers a certain dynamic over the other.

I think the blend of ship names is used especially on here to reach the widest possible audience for a fan’s created work, which I understand, but sometimes it’s like no matter the tag these are just completely different characters lol.

Sorry for the ramble, I just appreciate someone else pointing out this fanonization and work organization trend!

hi anon! you've made a lot of good points!

i'll put my (longer than expected!) response under the cut. (this might be a trend, i keep rambling about things)

as you said, they're both capable, independent men. avent went through so much since he was a kid and he got to where he is not just by his goddess-given luck, but also his wit and cunning. depicting him as a damsel in distress is a bit hard considering what he experienced, what he's capable of, and his luck.

ratio, on the other hand, was a genius since he was a kid. nous' gaze or not, he's knowledgeable and has a good heart. he was revered as the next member of genius society since he was a teenager (at least), he walked among scholars twice his age, kept up with his studies on topics most people much older than him struggle with, and grew up much too fast. 8 PhDs and who knows how many other degrees he has. depicting him as a damsel in distress is also a difficult thing to do.

neutral ship names for many ships (not just ratio/avent) definitely exist. golden ratio is a nice alternative when there's no particular dynamic. although, tagging both ratiorine and aventio on a neutral dynamic for them probably lessens engagements?

gonna have to use another ship as an example here. zhongchi/tartali shippers have been around for quite a while. for me, personally, i like zhongchi more. i've seen several other zhongchi shippers complained about the double tags (as in, tagging both zhongchi and chili/tartali) ruined their experience in finding content. this is bcs they block the chili/tartali tags, bcs they have a set characterisations for both zhongli and childe that doesn't align with tartali.

back to ship names, a possible solution is to use a third tag for ambiguous or even no particular dynamics between characters. but if your art or fic have a particular dynamic, use the proper tag! the neutral tag probably shouldn't be used for switch dynamics tho, since that could pollute the sfw works with nsfw ones.

anyway, don't apologise for rambling! i think these discussions can be fun when everyone involved does so calmly. after all, at the end of the day, they're all fictional and we're all here to have fun imagining them being silly and in love.

if someone doesn't like something bcs it's problematic, then they absolutely should call bullshit and have a discussion about it. but if it's just a matter of who tops and who bottoms, don't like don't read should be applied liberally! let people enjoy things they like and let yourself enjoy things you like!

be like the zhongchi shippers that block tartali tags. it's not a crime, they're not hurting anyone, and they don't leave negative comments. just curating their timelines to better their experience in the fandom!

idk if anon will read this, but to the ppl who did reach this point, thank you for reading this mess lmaoo

have a great time, whether it's early in the morning or late at night or anything in between wherever you are!

[antianakin]

Okay, so Aau's song is unequivocally my favorite Visions episode of all time, so I love that it's last and I get to end this rewatch on it.

We start off SO STRONG with Aau feeling the call to destiny when she hears the kyber singing to her and she sings back and then immediately Kratu's ship appears in the sky, almost as if she's responding to Aau herself because the Jedi follow the will of the Force and it's leading Kratu to Aau (and Aau to Kratu). And Aau feels it again multiple times after Kratu shows up at her house. Aau is primarily feeling a call to the kyber itself rather than Kratu, but the connection is there with Kratu, as well, and Kratu can feel it herself. I love how strong that connection is and how it isn't just a connection to the Force or the kyber, but a connection between Aau and a Jedi, or between Aau and the path of the Jedi.

I also really love how we can see that Aau doesn't just feel the call to the path of a Jedi, but that she already displays some Jedi traits that would make this a good path for her. She shows curiosity when Kratu is at the house and compassion when she carefully removes the louse from the beast she's grooming and then lets it go on the ground. Aau doesn't seem to see the louse as beneath her and doesn't treat Kratu as someone she needs to be reverent towards, either. All life is equal. She's also brave by going to the mine and following what appears to be a somewhat dangerous path into the mountains, but pragmatic about it by grabbing a helmet before she leaves (even though she seems to be stealing borrowing it from the miners in the town).

And this is honestly just one of the PRETTIEST shorts in the entire series, the colors are so saturated and the scene with Aau in the cave with the crystals is absolutely beautiful. For me, Korba is up there with Naboo and Scarif and Alderaan in the prettiest planets in the GFFA.

Kratu is WONDERFUL, with the way Mirialan characters seem to be getting used and abused in more mainstream Star Wars these days, it's really nice to have a new Mirialan character who is just... kind and beautiful and happy and wise. Nothing bad happens to her, she gets to rescue two people and help one little girl discover her destiny. She's calm no matter what's happening around her, but she's not afraid to jump into action when needed. And she's the first purple Mirialan that I know of and she's GORGEOUS and I adore her!

Aau barely speaks in the story, I think she might have two lines in the entire short, both INCREDIBLY small ("It's alright" and "I do"), but her voice is so so important. Her voice is POWERFUL, no matter how much she speaks, because what's important is how she chooses to use it. The two lines she does have are when she chooses to follow the path of a Jedi laid out before her, and that path seems to bring her so much peace and joy.

[rapunziedameron]

sorry you had to see that poll nym 😭 people are so weird about the sequels still

Ten years (nearly) after they started and five after they ended, and people are less normal about them still than I, resident "very not normal about the sequels" nerd.

A lot of the reasonings I saw for "why it hates women", too, just have me even more bewildered and frustrated. I feel like so much of this fandom's misogyny has completely clouded its perception of what the films actually were. And that's not to say the sequels are entirely flawless, though I feel this is an obvious statement that needn't be stated because no piece of media is without flaw, but this is the piss on the poor website, but I feel like a lot of the fandom's sexism just winds up skewering what the sequels really are- and it's a three movie narrative centered around Leia and Rey.

Oh yeah, bells and whistles of the tragedies of Han and Luke and Ben, but ultimately it comes down to Leia and Rey; it's a story of finding Leia's brother to bring him back to her. It's a story of trying (and failing, but trying again) to bring her son back to her. It's about people fighting in Leia's name. The Last Jedi novelization has D'Acy speaking her name with reverence, and Leia striding through the hanger is enough to immediately cease the division that rose up between the Resistance and Holdo's crew. It is in Leia's name that the galaxy pulls together to overthrow tyranny; it is Leia's legacy that Poe and Rey find themselves trying to carry, respectively. It's closure Leia deserved, with Vader, that Rey finds for herself by defeating Palpatine and rejecting his bloodline to choose her own family.

No, Leia doesn't have a big presence in the sequels; but she does drive them. She inspires everyone in the films, and it's a desire to do her and her legacy right that motivates nearly every other character. Leia is the symbol of the Resistance, of the Light, of hope in the films, and she can't even see it herself! But everyone else does.

So, quite. Leia is in a coma for most of The Last Jedi (oh no! The horror! She's now disabled! how completely sexist, as we know disabled women don't exist!), but she drives so much of it narratively.

And this concept that "some of the women antagonists are cruel, so it hates women" is absolutely mind-boggling to me? Of course Phasma is horrible, she's a fascist. And I don't take Holdo as a girlboss we're supposed to 100% believe is a perfect angel who does no wrong, when she represents so much of the elitism that the movie is so critical towards (she stands regally above the rest of the Resistance in fancy clothes that, if not in color, then certainly in trim lines more with the rich quality we see on Canto Bight; she immediately reduces Poe to a hotshot flyboy and nothing more, Finn to an ex-stormtrooper, and can't be bothered to even remember who Rose is, despite the fact that Rose is from Holdo's ship, and her focus is on bringing the New Republic back, which is a return to the status quo, which the film also pretty explicitly goes "no!" to). I don't think her self-sacrifice, or Leia using it as a teaching moment for Poe, negates those traits in the slightest. Holdo is - narratively - an antagonist:

a person who actively opposes or is hostile to someone or something; an adversary.

She was designed, specifically, to be a hardass that Poe and, we the audience, would not trust (according to the Art of the Last Jedi). The fact that two female antagonists (and one outright villain) is used as some sort of "gotcha!" that the films are somehow sexist doesn't sit right with me - it veers entirely too closely to the concept that women are somehow inherently pure creatures, and the thought that they might be anything but is sexist. Two white women antagonists embody prejudice? It's the end of feminism, cos white racist (and ableist, looking at you "bedpan duty" comment of Amilyn's from the novelization!) women is completely a myth right?

And people put so much more importance on Kylo than the films even do. They're so quick to write Rey off as nothing more than a mere victim, or like her arc is completely sullied by her having compassion for the villainous character - and the double standard is so completely obvious when Luke is praised for the same thing. But Rey dares to do the selfish, complicated thing - she develops feelings for the man she's supposed to hate! Who has hurt her friends! That's too much nuance, and the idea that Rey might have all the power here is too much for this fandom to comprehend, so we have to reduce her to a hapless little victim. So niave, and helpless but to exist as a mere prop for the white man.....

When in actuality, Ren serves as a prop for Rey's development. He makes her worse, highlights her flaws, and pushes her out of her comfort zone. The throne room is entirely the cause of (most) of Rey's insecurities in The Rise of Skywalker, and why she thinks she needs to earn her place in this story. She doesn't put up with any man's shit - she knocks Luke fucking Skywalker on his ass for lying to her, and when Ren makes it clear he isn't going to change, she kicks him out of her life. Rey has all the agency and uses it repeatedly, but it makes her a complicated character with nuance (an extremely traumatized mercurial one at that!) and that's unacceptable. So it's easier to pretend that she was done dirty, and existed solely for Ren's redemption (which is BULLSHIT because it was a last minute addition to the Rise of Skywalker).

There certainly are some complaints you could make (Rose's reduced screentime), but so much of what I see criticism about "sexism in the sequels" is simply at odds with what is actually present in the films themselves. Tell me again how the trilogy with more women than the first six films combined, which featured our first woman X-Wing pilot (because they'd been cut out of the original trilogy!) and had our Yoda figure be a dazzling, charming and flirtatious pirate queen, and so many other fantastic fucking background/recurring ladies (blows a kiss to Tallie, to Paige, to Kaydel, to all the other Resistance ladies my brain is blanking on atm!), for having ex-stormtrooper Jannah join Finn in helping topple the system that stole their childhoods from them, for letting a woman be covered head to toe and outwardly cold hearted but having a soft heart still as this trilogy's resident love interest scoundrel (Zorii).

The sequel trilogy loves women. It just loves messy, complicated women. Women that are sometimes wrong, who make mistakes, or are sometimes just outright pieces of shit.

So if you think women shouldn't be any of those things then, yeah. I guess it hates the idea that women should be perfect angels. But if you think that means it hates women outright, then I think you need to sit back and wonder what that says about you.

But I doubt the fandom is capable of that, when you had people claiming it was sexist that Leia trains Rey back in 2019.

[kitsunefaux]

All Ships Week - Day 5

Fandoms: Yu-Gi-Oh, Avatar: The Last Airbender

Ship: Gemshipping

Prompt: Mentor/mentee

Parts: 1

Enjoy!

----------

Ryou’s fingers twitched as he struggled to mould water to his will. It was just one little spout. Things moved all the time when he didn’t want them to. He’d accidentally exploded the tea more than once when his father had guests over.

Ryou cupped his palm and made a scooping motion. Liquid followed, quivering as he tried to hold it in place. It slipped from his grasp, rejoining the rest of the pond. 

Ryou cursed and kicked a stone. It skittered to a stop in front of a pair of ghostly bare feet.

“Wow, you’re really letting that water make you its bitch.”

Ryou flushed red as he realised he had company. He wiped suddenly sweaty hands on his rich green tunic as he stuttered, “Y-You… you came back.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow. “I don’t leave, Ryou. You’re the one who comes and goes.” He moved closer and grabbed Ryou’s arm, holding it up, his touch solid despite his semi-transparent form. “I told you last time. You’re doing it wrong.”

Blue eyes flicked up towards the circle of the moon. Did Bakura manifest every time it was full? “How do you know? You’re not a waterbender.”

“Well, obviously.” Bakura kept his grip on Ryou���s arm as he moved behind him, resting a hand on his other shoulder. “But I’m used to figuring shit out on my own. Water and fire aren’t really that different. Neither of them likes to sit still.” He tapped Ryou’s knee with his foot. “Loosen up and stop trying to hold on to it. Let it flow with you.”

Ryou’s face heated, growing more flushed with each prolonged moment of contact. He swallowed, forcing the distraction from his mind, then stared down at the pond, and lifted his hand. Nothing happened, not even a burble. “It didn’t work.”

“That’s because your wrist is about as limp as a dead fish,” Bakura said, wiggling Ryou’s arm in demonstration. “And don’t be so polite. The water works for you, not the other way around.”

“Polite?”

Bakura let out a breath as he stepped away, and Ryou didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed, both feelings twisting together in his gut. Bakura opened his palm, summoning a white spectral flame. It danced, growing and then fading away with each rise and fall of his chest. In and out. Ebb and flow. 

“Gather the seeds and then let them go,” Bakura said in a softer tone, golden eyes fixated on a single point. “Fire moves because that’s its nature. Try to hold it still…” The flame flickered once and went out. “And it dies.” 

An unknown feeling squeezed Ryou’s heart. How cruel it seemed that something so pretty could be so easily extinguished. “I…” He held out his hand. “Can you show me?”

Bakura studied him for what felt like forever. Then he took his hand. Ryou smiled as they melded into one, the ghost settling like a warm blanket beneath his skin. 

“Move with me.” Bakura shifted their stance, distributing weight evenly between their feet. “Follow me, and the water will follow you. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Ryou said, his voice quiet, almost reverent.

Bakura repeated the scooping motion Ryou made at the start, and water rose from the pond. When his hand reached its peak, he shoved down. Water burst forth, splitting into two waves. Ryou flicked his wrist at the last moment, and they crystallised. 

Ice sparkled with captured moonlight. “It worked.” A smile crept onto Ryou’s face, and then he laughed, a sound of relief and delight.

[To be continued]

[strawberrystepmom]

hi kendy!

I have a few questions for your astro event.

the event could be for selfships or other ships, right? the charts could be sent like this?

if this is okay then I'd like to see what their romantic compatibility looks like. I know in canon Ichigo doesn't believe in horoscopes or astrology, but I can see him reading something that resonates with him and he can't help but think about inés.

also if it's not too much, I'd also like to see the sexuality readings for another OC of mine.

if it ends up being too much, you can def pick which one to do, I'll be happy with either one! I hope you have a pleasant rest of your day~ 🤗🤗

omg i loooooove working on people's oc's so absolutely <333 also ichigo is a big ol stiff. i'll bet after all the shit he's seen in canon by the time postcanon comes around he's a smidge more willing to at least look at his horoscope in the paper and scoff in amusement aldjfasjdfasfd

compatibility reading:

SO one of my go-to catchphrases in astrology is that nobody understands a water sign better than another water sign. The water signs feel deeply, they experience life in a way that requires touching although it’s emotional touching. They wanna feel everything, bad or good, because feeling means you’re alive. Cancer and scorpio are a great match on the sun level - they may both have similar core beliefs about the world and how to live in it. Morals are very important to Cancer placements especially so finding a partner that can stand with them and do the right thing is paramount. Scorpio will do that, loyal until the end.

I also appreciate Inés and Ichigo having the same moon sign here! Moon is your (using the royal you here) internal world, your deepest darkest thoughts you may tuck away fearing being misunderstood. Having the same placement here can indicate a really deep connection and great mutual understanding about how the other feels and processes their feelings. 

I will say one area of trouble that could form between the two is with their respective Mars placements. Cancer Mars in men can manifest either as someone who communicates super passive aggressively or someone who is very caring and is able to use that to the fullest of its ability. Inés has a Libra Mars which can sometimes make them come off as indecisive or difficult to pin down on a hard opinion, something Cancer dislikes. Consistency, predictability, patterns - that’s what a Cancer likes so when a person has an opinion or stance that is an outlier in how they usually would behave, that’s when the passive aggressive “I don’t even know who you are” kicks in. That being said, Ichigo is extremely mature and I don’t think this would be an insurmountable issue or point to bad compatibility. 

Venus placement compatibility is also good for these two! Air for air, an understanding of the fact that you can want both romance and space to be yourself. Their love will likely evolve many many times during its length - perhaps friends to lovers? Enemies to friends to lovers? Who knows but I do know that air sign love is very changeable, they can become whatever their partner needs them to be wherever they’re at in their lives. 

Overall - good compatibility. May have some communication issues if Inés struggles with being direct but nothing relationship ending. A recommended bonding activity for them would be something mentally stimulating, maybe a board game or video game. Challenging one another is always a good way to keep the other involved!

sexuality reading:

Nice to meet you Kazue! <3 her chart made me smile very large because I love it, it just screams passionate, emotional lover to me.

So let’s start with that Libra sun! Libra, of course, is THE placement of love. It values fairness, beauty, romance, all things luscious and lovely and highly visible in this world are things revered by Libra. They pride themselves on being wonderful companions and very beautiful ones at that. They are a little indecisive and sometimes like to be chased (I have a feeling she really likes to be chased but I’ll get into that shortly) but once you have them, they’re there for life. It’s just that whole getting them thing…

Cancer moon is a really deep, introspective moon placement to have. Very emotional. She likely deals with a little bit of angst around how she’s perceived (read: people’s potential lust toward her) vs. how she wants to be taken as a person (read: seriously, not like a piece of meat that people have projected fantasy onto). Cancer can get frustrated with Libra and its flexible nature. I wouldn’t call Cancer rigid, it’s too emotional for that, but it likes to know what it’s dealing with as I discussed above a little bit. She may really like consistent displays of sexuality - the same routine every time and this can be reinforced by her Virgo Venus. They don’t tend to be super freaky people but they have these hidden, secret desires and there is a lot of repression in Virgo that the right partner can help them overcome. They tend to have kinks that have to do with strong roles (mommy/daddy kink is a common one) but they keep them very hush hush. It takes a very astute partner to pick up on it.

Now back to the she likes to be chased thing. Leo Mars loves to be chased. More than that it loves to be adored, worshipped, revered and to have it proven to them that they’re viewed that way. Source: also a Leo Mars. This can create a situation where Leo is feeding into Libra and saying “y’know…i think they just need to prove it a littttttle more” which can make her feel very conflicted about her feelings. 

Overall she’s very passionate. Dreamy and will give her partner fantasies if they want them but she deserves a partner who will help her fulfill her own too. 

liked what you read here? stop by my event and submit a request!

[revivisection]

cosmas questions from @vossn :3

What’s Cosmas attitude towards faith/The Emperor? How did the way he grew up shape (or not shape) this?

cosmas’ attitude can be summed up as “god is real but he’s never done anything for me so i’m not doing shit for him”. he believes in the emperor and all his power, but he isn’t particularly reverent towards him. if he was going to be smitten for his blasphemy, it would've happened already. there’s probably a few saints/other figures he likes, though i’d need to know more about the greater 40k lore to give you anything more specific. i wouldn’t say he’s particularly reverent towards them either, but there’s an affection for them that he doesn’t have for the emperor.

of course, he was told since birth that his duty was to serve the emperor in life and death. he got that special voidborn edition though, those guys seem especially aware of their own expendability and embrace it. he would have accepted it without question as a child, there not being anything else to tell him otherwise.

but now, whether or not it was the emperor’s will that led him on his lifepath is ultimately irrelevant to him, he believes that he’s the one who made himself, his successes are due to himself, and he does it for himself, not the emperor.

of course, it’s a bit of a leap between those two points. there was a lot of disillusionment that happened in between. being one of the few survivors of his dying homeship, his rescuers would have been angels to him, sent by the emperor himself. but hive life wasn’t any better than lower deck life, and he was scared and alone, separated, alienated, in an environment entirely unfamiliar to him. it let room for resentment to grow, for him to let himself feel ungrateful and angry. he was a bit of a troublemaker as a kid, but it got a lot more serious here, enough that he was cast into the underhive, thrown away and forgotten about, left to make his own way. he didn’t cling much to his faith then.

so in some ways “the emperor hasn’t done anything for me” isn’t entirely accurate, because he does, in some ways, still think of those things, of angels whisking him away. navy ships and officers still make him feel some sort of way, something weird and complicated that he ignores. he’d make kind of a shit voidsman anyway, his survival/self preservation instinct is too strong, and he doesn't take orders well.

he still uses other people’s faith for his own benefit though, he’s the god emperor’s specialist little boy after all! why else would he have this warrant of trade? he still feels like the big man on holy terra’s ignoring him, but he doesn’t want his approval anyway. no, he definitely doesn’t.

Bonus: what’s an item you’d find on his person at all times?

of course, you’d be hard pressed to find him without a knife and at least one working gun, but that’s a boring, easy answer.

another easy answer, his lho case and a lighter, i keep thinking i should design them because they’d be engraved.

you’d find a lot of things in his jacket pockets, useful things, but also useless things he never takes out, keeps close to himself for sentimentality’s sake. that jacket is probably heavy as fuck with all the shit he’s putting in it. sentimental answer, something from his sister. i don’t know what exactly (i’m still working on the damira lore) but probably something that seems like garbage. a bit of glass, a deformed bullet shell, a crushed bit of plasteel that might have once resembled something. along those lines.

i’ve also decided it’s cute if he gets a little trinket from every companion (even if how he gets it is. not so cute), so by the end he’s picked up something from all of them. drinking’s not really his vice (though he does do it), but idira gives him her flask when she gives it up in act 2.

there’s also the romantic answer, heinrix gives him his rosette when he leaves the inquisition, cosmas guts the thing and carries it around everywhere. the fact it’s a symbol of the inquisition doesn’t bother him, since heinrix giving it to him is a symbol of loyalty and devotion.

mildly humorous answer? he keeps an old faded militarum recruitment poster he nabbed years and years ago, it’s creased to hell and back and he honestly doesn’t know why he’s kept onto this one in particular for so long, but he likes the face on it. something about handsome, uptight looking men… sometimes he forgets about it until he’s doing a pocket check (to make sure everything’s where it’s supposed to be) and takes it out, and he has to unfold it again to remember why exactly he has it. he could put it somewhere else, but it lives there now.

leave it to me to make 300 words out of a simple question lmao