#rebel Starbird

[miaikonartstudio]

I've been re-watching "Rebels" lately and fell in love with Sabine all over again. She's just so cool!

I thought I'd be immune to it on a re-watch, but certain scenes had me bawl like a baby.

The idea of her spray-painting the camera came to me under the shower. I'm surprised I couldn't find any fanart of her doing that, to be honest.

It took me forever to get her chestplate right. And her paint gun. And of course I had to do a version with the helmet. Even though she seems very averse to keeping it on. She's Din Djarin's opposite, in that regard. Seriously, she takes it off in situations where it should DEFINITELY stay on. Not to speak of her losing the helmet md-battle sometimes. I thought these sealed to the suit?

This is currently my wallpaper. One of the benefits of being an artist is that you can draw your own.

[jedi-nurse]

[illuminatedquill]

we are captives of

what we love

what we desire

and what we are

[velsayshi]

I am really proud of myself for getting this far. I am not experienced with quilting/piecing skills even though I like to sew.

My patch is almost finished. I just need to iron on the fusible interface to hold it together.

Alas, poor iron - I hardly knew ye. It kicked the bucket right as I finished.

[jedimandalorian]

“There's a lot of meaning to the symbol. According to some, the starbird can never die—whenever it seems to be gone, it's actually renewing itself in the heart of a nova.”

—FROM SABINE WREN'S PERSONAL JOURNAL

Sabine’s starbird is a phoenix, as in the Rebels’ very own Phoenix Squadron, which was referenced again in Ahsoka Episode 4.

The Phoenix is an alchemical symbol of rebirth and healing.

“We must recall that the phoenix burns itself periodically to be reborn. Is this merely a reference to the healing process in man or does it have some other significance? In his writings, Paracelsus leaves us no doubt that the alchemical phoenix or iliaster is nothing more than a symbol of the completely healed, or perfected, human being, . . . the aim of the secret practices of the alchemists.”—from The Five Birds of Alchemy by Mary Jo Magar

Sabine Wren, “the girl who was broken” is about to be healed and made whole, but she must go through the flames first.

I also thought about this recently. Baylan’s line about having to destroy in order to create is important.

It reminds me of this concept from alchemy:

“Solve et coagula is a principle of alchemy meaning ‘dissolve and coagulate.’ According to this principle, a substance must be broken down before it can be built up into something new. Solve refers to this breaking down of elements and coagula refers to their coming together.”

—from Cut Me Up Magazine Issue 7

[poesdaughter]

Me and the Host at the restaurant we stopped in for lunch:

*notices water bottle with huge Sabine Wren starbird symbol*

Me: "Hey who is the Sabine Wren fan?"

Host: "ME! Oh I'm so surprised you know what it means!!! Most people see it and have noooo idea!" (They were also wearing cool huge mythosaur earrings which should have been my first clue haha)

Me: "Oh I love Star Wars and I just got done watching all of Clone Wars and Rebels and Ahsoka! And I LOVE Sabine!!!!"

Host: ":D"

Me: ":D"

Me internally because I need more local friends:

[senaararts]

Some pretty floral rebellion insignia

[xwisegirlx]

(via "Galactic Phoenix" Bucket Hat for Sale by xWiseGirl)

[limnsaber]

Star Wars Rebels went to all that trouble to avoid “phoenix” only for The Mandalorian to canonize phoenix. In the Mandalorian culture no less

[dee-the-red-witch]

And daily doodling.

Working on how far a rose can decay before you can't distinguish the petals from the rot.

And then working on iterations for something for myself, because NERD.

[alphaofdarkness]

Absolutely crying Star, precioso loth kitty I love his silly little carita 🤲🏼🧡🐱

The doodle says what I mean 🥰

[uwingdispatch]

Since we're getting closer and closer to Andor and Andor leads right into Rogue One I thought I'd just drop all of my Rogue One things (or at least everything I can fit—none of the apparel is in this post) in one spot. So here we go. Shop is here.

Lanyard keychains:

Jyn, Cassian, Bodhi, and K-2SO

Other keychains and charms:

U-Wing, Temple of the Kyber

Spotify Shakers:

Rogue One Crew, Rebel Girls, Cassian x "this is me trying", Jyn x "You're On Your Own, Kid", Mon x "Bejeweled"

Scrunchies:

Battle of Scarif, K-2SO

Hair Clips:

Cassian, Galen

Mini pouches:

Cassian, Jyn, U-Wings, K-2SO

Acrylic Earrings:

Rogue One Starbird, K-2SO

Character Earrings:

Y'all know who these guys are.

Looking forward to making new stuff for Andor season 2! Let me know what y'all would like to see! <3

Shop is here.

[netflixbingger]

Beneath Rebel Skies - Chapter 8

Characters:Cassian x Reader Summary: You and Cassian Andor were childhood friends on Ferrix—until your parents suddenly tore you away without warning. Years later, you reunite during a mission for the Rebellion. Old memories clash with new tension as you’re forced to work together, navigating the lines between friendship, loyalty, and something more. Word Count: 3,000+ words Warnings: Violence, Loss, Mild Language, Sexual Implications, Blood Previous Chapter

The silence between you had settled into something different now. Not sharp like it was that night in your quarters - just… dull. Stretched. Muted around the edges, like both of you had packed it into a box and shoved it onto some high shelf you didn’t plan to touch again.

You still spoke, when you had to. Still passed each other in corridors, sat through the same briefings, reviewed the same mission intel. You weren’t strangers. But it felt like you were trying to be.

Every conversation was functional. Crisp. Polite.

And that was the worst part—it wasn’t cold. It was…careful.

Like both of you knew what would happen if you let the guard slip. Like it might only take one glance too long, one step too close, for the ache to rise back up between you.

And it did, sometimes.

Quietly.

You’d feel his eyes on you during training runs or strategy meetings. Never for long - just a second too much. Just enough to make your chest tighten.

Once, passing in the mess, your hands had brushed. You’d both flinched like you’d touched something burning.

It reminded you of the early days with him on Yavin, when you were in that grey area between being strangers and friends.

But what lingered between you now was heavier. Quieter. It wasn’t curiosity - it was ache. The ache to speak, to joke, to sit next to him without bracing for the sting. The ache to be near him.

...and the choice not to be.

Because space was safer than whatever would come next.

It made you want to scream.

But instead, you worked. You trained. You took the missions handed to you and tried not to flinch when his name showed up on the same manifest.

And you told yourself, over and over, that you were fine. That it didn’t matter. That the ache would dull eventually.

On paper, the mission was simple.

You, Kiira, and Cassian- a quick retrieval from a contact buried deep in a backwater trade outpost - low risk, low eyes, mostly locals. 

The market buzzed around you, thick with color and noise. Stalls spilled out into the dusty street - frayed banners, stacked fruit crates, old starship parts laid out like treasure. It smelled like heat and oil and something fried in too much salt.

Kiira walked ahead, weaving through the crowd with her usual sharp-eyed precision, comm clipped to her collar. Cassian kept pace beside you. Silent. Close.

You drifted toward a vendor’s stall near the edge of the main row. Rusted metalwork was laid out in rows - pins shaped like starbirds, rings made from old ship bolts, a tiny carving of a Tooka with half its ear chipped. You traced your fingers over one absentmindedly, trying to look interested, trying not to think about him.

When you turned, Cassian was gone.

Only for a second.

He reappeared at your side like he’d never left, sliding something small and sticky into your palm without a word.

A stick of candied fruit.

Deep red. Slightly melted. Ferrix-style.

The smell hit you before the memory did - sweet, sharp, a little burnt at the edges. You used to split these with him when you were kids, your hands stained red for hours after.

“You didn’t eat today,” he said.

Not a question. Not a lecture.

Just a fact he had noticed.

You blinked, the weight of it landing somewhere unexpected in your chest. All you could manage was a quiet, “Thanks.”

Cassian didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at you.

He just started walking again - steady, calm, like he hadn’t just reached inside your ribcage and twisted something loose.

You looked down at the fruit in your palm, still warm from the sun. From him.

And the longer you stood there, the more it got under your skin - this tiny, stupid thing that somehow meant too much.

You weren’t sure if you were more upset with him for giving it to you, or with yourself for caring that he did.

You met back up with Kiira at the edge of the market, datapack secure and coded, her steps already angled toward the docking bay.

“I’m heading back to the ship,” she said, adjusting the satchel on her shoulder. “Need to get this bounced through the relay before sunset. I’ll start preflight while you two loop back.”

Cassian gave a nod. “We’ll be right behind.”

“I want to swing back to a stall I saw earlier,” you added. “Just for a second.”

Cassian turned, one brow raised. “We’re not here to shop.”

You shot him a look. He didn’t smile - but something flickered in his face. Warmth, maybe. Guilt, more likely.

“Be quick,” he said. “Seriously.”

You nodded, lips pressed tight, and turned back toward the stalls.

The market had begun easing into that late-afternoon lull. The noise softened, replaced by the clatter of crates being closed and tarps pulled down. The sunset painted everything in streaks of orange and brass, shadows stretching long across the gravel.

You stepped around a vendor sorting through tangled coils of wire, the scent of rust and oil thick in the air. Another was shouting over a deal gone sour, waving a chipped datapad. A little girl chased her brother between crates, laughter echoing sharply before being swallowed by the crowd.

Your boots kicked up dust as you moved, heat clinging to your skin beneath your gear. You wiped a hand across your temple, annoyed with yourself for letting Cassian get under your skin with one tiny gesture and one unreadable look.

He didn’t get to do that. He didn’t get to shut it all off the second things got hard and then randomly act like you were something that still mattered.

You clenched your jaw and kept walking, weaving deeper into the maze of stalls.

You were just a few booths away from the one you remembered - bright scarves strung between iron hooks, a tray of old data chips and carved pendants - when something shifted.

Not a sound, at first, just a ripple in the atmosphere. A sudden tightness in the air, like a breath being held too long.

Then came the voices.

A man shouting - sharp, hoarse. Another snapped back louder, angrier. Then something crashed. The heavy clang of metal on stone.

You turned instinctively, eyes searching.

Near the market’s central row, two figures squared off beside a spice cart. One shoved the other hard, nearly toppling a vendor’s display. Crates of dried herbs hit the ground and burst open. A crowd had started to gather, uneasy.

Then came the scream: “Imperial sympathizers!”

And just like that…it ignited.

The first blaster fired.

A second shot rang out before the first had even finished echoing. Someone screamed. Someone else fired back.

Then the market exploded.

Vendors dove. Civilians ran. The street erupted into panic. Screams and smoke and heat. A stand burst into flames as a stray shot tore through it, sending everything scattering. 

Someone went down - hard - and didn’t get back up.

“Y/N . What the hell just happened?” Cassian’s voice tore through your comm, urgent and loud. “You okay?”

“Yes—no, but it’s bad,” you managed, ducking behind a toppled display. “Something set them off. Full-on blaster fight. Civilians everywhere.”

“I see it,” Kiira cut in. “Circling -”

“No,” Cassian barked. “Get to the ship. Now.”

The chaos pressed in from all sides. Blaster bolts hissed through the air, biting into walls and crates. Someone pushed past you, blood trailing from their arm. The shouting had turned into a mess of accusations -traitor, spy, loyalist - words you couldn’t sort through fast enough.

You moved.

You had to.

You tried to retrace your path -head back to Cassian, to the docks. But the current of bodies shoved you the wrong way. You fought through it, heart slamming in your chest, lungs burning.

Then you saw her.

A little girl -curled beside a collapsed table, too small to be out here alone. Her hands were over her ears, shoulders trembling, eyes wide and locked on nothing.

You dropped beside her fast, a bolt searing past overhead.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you whispered, your voice hoarse as you crouched to shield her. “We have to move, alright?”

She didn’t respond, just stared, wide-eyed, her lip trembling. You scooped her up before she could flinch away, one arm around her back, the other gripping your blaster tight as you turned into the chaos again.

Smoke was rolling across the stalls now, curling through broken crates and scorched tarps. Screams echoed off the walls. 

“Cassian, I’ve got a kid,” you said into the comm, breath ragged. “Trying to cut back toward you - ”

“Where are you?” His voice was too loud, almost frantic. “Tell me where -”

You didn’t get a chance to answer.

A sudden burst of blaster fire cracked through the square - closer this time. You twisted hard, instinct taking over, and the shot caught you just beneath the ribs. It felt like being punched with fire. Your breath stopped short in your chest.

The girl shrieked.

Your knees buckled.

You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring every nerve in your body. The pain bloomed sharp and immediate, spreading through your side like liquid flame. You gritted your teeth, trying not to cry out.

The girl scrambled away the second your grip loosened. She ran—barefoot and panicked - vanishing into the crowd before you could even call after her.

You rolled onto your side, gasping, the sound wet and shaky. Blood was already soaking through your jacket. You pressed your hand to the wound, trying to hold it together - literally.

“Y/N? Come in.” Cassian’s voice again, sharper now. “Do you copy?”

“What the fuck is happening over there!” Kiira’s voice snapped through the earpiece, followed by static and the sharp whine of charging weapons.

You scrambled behind a supply crate, pressing your hand to the side of your ribs

“Fuck,” you breathed. “I’m hit.”

The line crackled, then: “Where?”

“Left side. Not bad,” you lied, forcing your voice steady. “I’m near the fruit stand.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming.”

You braced yourself behind the crate, hand slick with blood, breath shallow. The air was thick with smoke and panic—screams, boots slamming against stone, blaster fire still cutting through the chaos. You didn’t know how long you sat there, blinking through the haze, waiting.

Then - Cassian.

He dropped beside you fast, one knee hitting the ground hard. His eyes swept over you, sharp and unflinching, already reaching for your jacket.

“Let me see.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again, wincing as you tried to straighten. “Just a graze.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, his arm slid around your waist as he helped you up, careful but quick. You bit down a groan as the motion sent pain ripping through your side.

“Come on,” he muttered. “We have to move.”

The path to the docking bay was chaos. Debris littered the street - smoldering crates, broken glass, a torn banner still fluttering weakly in the smoke. You leaned on him more than you meant to, your boots slipping against the uneven stone.

Cassian kept you upright, one arm locked around you, the other ready on his blaster. Every few feet, he checked the rooftops, eyes scanning for movement.

“Almost there,” he said under his breath, more to himself than to you.

You turned a corner and finally saw the ship - ramp lowered, lights glowing like a beacon through the smoke. Kiira’s voice crackled in over the comms.

“I see you. You need backup?”

“No,” Cassian snapped. “Just cover the approach. We’re close.”

Each step up the ramp felt steeper than the last. You stumbled once, knees nearly giving out, and Cassian caught you with both arms this time, hauling you up the final stretch without hesitation.

By the time the ramp sealed behind you, your vision was starting to tunnel.

You barely registered the ship lifting off, only that the floor swayed and your balance tipped with it. Cassian didn’t let go, guiding you toward the nearest bench like he was afraid you’d shatter if he moved too fast.

K-2SO was already waiting by the wall, arms crossed in that way only he could make feel judgmental.

“You look terrible,” he noted flatly.

Cassian didn’t even glance up. He was already tearing through the med cabinet with sharp, practiced movements. “Stabilizer. Gauze. Bacta.”

K-2 tilted his head. “I’m not programmed for battlefield nursing.”

“I’m not—” Cassian cut himself off, exhaling hard through his nose. “Just get it.”

You gripped the edge of the bench like it might anchor you, breaths shallow and fast.

“Cass?” you called out in fear, wanting him - no, needing him - near you again.

Cassian was back at your side in an instant, eyes flicking over your face before dropping to your jacket. “I need to see it.”

“I know,” you whispered, already fumbling with the edge of your shirt. But your hands were shaking, and the moment you shifted your weight, a wave of white-hot pain ripped through your side. You gasped, slumping forward.

Cassian caught you quickly, his hands bracing your shoulders. “Don’t move. I got you.”

You looked up at him, wincing. “Just cut it.”

He paused for a fraction of a second - just long enough for something unreadable to flicker across his face.

Then he grabbed the shears.

“I’ll give you two some privacy,” K-2 chirped, already turning and striding stiffly from the room.

Cassian knelt in front of you, hands steady as he sliced clean through your shirt. The fabric fell away, and what was underneath made him swear under his breath.

The wound was worse than he’d expected.

Blistered, deep, bleeding freely.

“This wasn’t a graze,” Cassian muttered, voice low and tight.

You didn’t respond.

You couldn’t - not with the pain clawing up your side like fire under your skin. Not with your heartbeat pounding so loud in your ears it drowned out everything else.

He looked up at you then, and it was worse than anger. You’d seen him angry - seen him cold and clipped and cursing under his breath. But this wasn’t that. This was fear. Raw. Unspoken. Sitting sharp behind his eyes like he wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.

“How long were you going to lie about it?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Tried again.

“Didn’t think panicking would help,” you rasped. It was barely a sentence. You tasted iron when you swallowed.

Cassian looked like he wanted to yell. Instead, he clenched his hands and shook his head. “Fuck, it won’t stop bleeding.”

Cassian worked in silence. Not the easy kind. The kind that pressed in like pressure against your chest. The kind that made you hyper-aware of how fast he moved, how tight his jaw was, how badly your body had started to tremble.

You tried to keep still, but your limbs wouldn’t listen. Your legs twitched. Your fingers spasmed around the edge of the bench. The cold sweat rolling down your neck made it feel like the whole room was tilting.

He pressed a bacta patch to your ribs and the sting registered late, dull and distant, like it was happening to someone else. You tried to focus on his hands, on the way they moved, but the ship kept rocking and your head kept drifting and everything kept getting… dimmer.

“You with me?” Cassian asked, his voice suddenly closer.

You blinked hard. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Cassian shifted, reaching for another strip of gauze, and his fingers brushed your arm and you heard him mutter, “Hey, stay awake, don’t close your eyes.”

And something cracked loose in your chest. This was it. This was how you died. Your mind was racing with memories. Memories of Ferrix, your parents, Bix… and Cassian.

“I used to steal those little candy sticks from the vendor by Rix Road,” you murmured. Your lips were dry. You weren’t even sure the words came out right. “Blamed you every time.”

Cassian froze.

Just for a second. Just long enough for you to see it land.

You slumped slightly and the weight in your limbs grew heavier. The ship groaned beneath your feet as the landing gears kicked in, but you barely felt it. You only knew you were moving because gravity shifted and the world tilted again.

Footsteps echoed somewhere distant.

“…we’re here,” Cassian’s voice—closer now, lower. His hand laced between yours, grounding you. “Hey. Stay with me.”

Light hit your face as the ramp opened... too bright, too sharp. You squinted, but it didn’t help. Everything looked blown out and smeared at the edges.

There were footsteps.

A new voice - quick, professional. “She conscious?”

“Barely,” Cassian answered.

Something brushed your side. A blanket. Maybe his jacket. You couldn’t tell.

You heard Kiira - somewhere nearby. Her voice sounded like it was coming through water.

“Is she—?”

“She’ll be fine,” Cassian cut in. But his tone didn’t match the words.

A hand - his, you thought - shifted behind your back. Then movement. Floating? No, lifted. The gurney. You were on a gurney.

“Keep the pressure even,” Cassian was saying. “Left side’s the worst of it. Bacta patch is in place.”

A pause. Muffled sounds. A mechanical voice ; K2.

“…not programmed for emotional support, but fine. I’ll watch them.”

More motion. Air changed. Cooler. Halls?

You drifted again.

Kiira’s voice: “You’re not coming?”

Cassian, closer now, somewhere near your head: “I have to debrief. I’ll check in after.”

Your fingers twitched.

You wanted to say something. Wanted to scream at him not to leave. 

But the words never made it past your lips.

The last thing you felt was the brush of his fingers against yours.

Then… nothing.

NEXT CHAPTER

Hiiiiiiiiiii!!! Sorry these past few chapters have been bang bang bang with action and tension… but, it’ll be worth it! I promise! 👀

[alphaofdarkness]

I absolutely loved them! 🥺💜🧡 the biggest pin on my first pinboard, I just love them and so worth the purchase! 🥰🤍 the quality is amazing and I just love it! The most precious sabezra design! 🥰🤍

My favorite Jedi Mando Duo 💜

Limited Edition Pins!

-> Link to Etsy

[orangedodge]

There's such gravitas and prominence given to Luthen's efforts to undermine the Empire, that it's easy to read intent into it, that this is the real history of the Rebellion that overwrites everything else we've ever watched and read. I don't know what existed in the minds of the teleplay writers and the producers overseeing their work, and so I wouldn't be shocked if that was actually the case. But there have been so many different, always contradictory, originating mythologies for the Rebel Alliance that it all just works within the context of Andor--and Nemik's thesis of constant spontaneous rebellion as humanity's natural state--to take everything as it is and had always been.

The Rebellion really was born the moment a father-daughter team of con artists decided that the ISB would be their mark.

But it was also created by the Fulcrum network coordinating independent smugglers and black marketers throughout the outer rim, and it was created in a senate cloak room when 2000 senators condemned the chancellor, and when Bail Organa started smuggling dissidents out of Coruscant, but also when Palpatine's carefully crafted controlled opposition began organizing against his empire for real with the military forces he manipulated them into building.

There are countless smaller, unrelated, rebellions in the Star Wars universe inspired by the unknown (long dead) voice on the radio telling them that there is rebellion on every planet, at the exact same time as a graffiti artist is breaking into impenetrable Imperial fortresses to tag the Rebellion's starbird everywhere. When equal weight is given to a hotel clerk throwing a grenade into a mob of soldiers, and a thief stealing from a military garrison for the payday, its clear that there was never a singular driving will behind it all.

I'm glad they went that route, however it actually came about, by serendipity or design. Star Wars has always had a problem with the one, great ego being behind everything. How can it not, when it's foundational that the influence of one Force directs every event in the universe? But the Force of the Star Wars galaxy is not the will of a divine creator, its a broken metronome that can never stop swinging. It's always been a cyclical story, of rebellions overthrowing grasping tyrants, creating new republics that decay into new empires, and are overthrown by new rebellions. They've never quite managed to match the story they want to tell, with the skill they have available to tell it, but it's all there.

[sabezrasecretsanta]

Sabezra Secret Santa 2024 Christmas Tree!

'Twas the night before Sabezra Secret Santa, and all across this website, all the santas were stirring, to finish their gift by tonight! When what to their wondering eyes should appear, but a tree decked by kazzy, to spread some good cheer!

As a little thank-you gift to all our participants, I made a special Christmas tree! Each ornament on the tree correlates to a different sabezra moment that each santa said was their favorite in an ask I sent them (see which one's yours under the cut ⬇️) and there's a little gift under the tree that maches the blog colors of each giftee 😁 Can't wait to see what gifts we're all gonna unwrap from each other this year 🧡💜

I want to thank everyone so much for participating, and I'm excited to see everyone's work! Remember, you can post any time between now and January 2!

🎅🧡🎁💜🤶

@cursivequestion | Sabine's Jetpack | "My favorite Sabezra Moment is probably the romantic jetpack ride in Imperial Super Commandos🤣"

@ana-cantskywalker | Ezra's lightsaber | "Ezra giving her his lightsaber instinctively without having to ask in Legacy of Mandalore"

@jedi-nurse | Sabine's Jetpack | "The one that always comes to mind is the jetpack scene in Imperial Supercommandos. Such a classic 👌"

@kazoosandfannypacks | The Map | "Everyone was counting on Sabine not to give up the map, but Ezra was counting on her to do what it takes to get to him, and she did. I think that was what really cemented that hope that Sabine's time spent working to bring him back would pay off."

@bart1607 | Ezra's Holo-Pic | "When Sabine gave him that holo-pic with Ezra's parents, for his birthday. That was very sweet and one of the moments that made me ship them together."

@notanodinarygirl | Loth-Wolf | [I never received an answer for this one, but saw this in a list of her favorite sabezra moments!]

@alphaofdarkness | Ezra and Sabine's Helmets | "Ah, there are many ~ but the one that always just warms my heart is their silly moment in 'Heroes of Mandalore Pt. 1'"

@meiloorunsmoothie | Sabine's Customized TIE Fighter | "i just love it when they're fooling around/being a chaotic duo XD."

@supersaiyanjedi14 | The Darksaber | "Their conversation in Trials of the Darksaber"

@illuminatedquill | Sabine's Hologram Projector | "Seeing Sabine watch Ezra’s private message to her with a galaxy’s amount of yearning and angst . . . yeah."

@jedimandalorian | Sabine's Jetpack | "In Rebels, it was their teamwork on their 'romantic' jet pack ride. 😂 I loved all of their team-ups in seasons 3 and 4."

@black-cat-babe : | Little Noti's Rebel Starbird | "favorite sabezra moment was when they reunited in Ahsoka. Believe me when I say I had been dreaming about that moment for years and it was so much better than expected!"