#war galley

[ltwilliammowett]

A Greek carnelian scaraboid (type of seal amulet) with Protesilaos, Classical period, circa 4th century BC. 7/8 in (2.2 cm) long

[todaysdocument]

Galley at recruit camp, Navy Yard, Puget Sound, 12/22/1917. 

Record Group 71: Records of the Bureau of Yards and Docks

Series: Photographs of Construction Progress and Completion of U.S. Naval Shore Installations and Shipyards

Image description: Sailors standing in a galley (kitchen). Large pots and pans hang from the ceiling and sit on a table-sized stove. The sailors stand behind the stove, wearing white uniforms, long aprons, and “dixie cup” hats cocked at various angles. 

Image description: Zoomed-in portion of image, showing a sailor sitting on the shelf of a pass-through window to another room, looking over his shoulder at the camera.

[goodonepiecescreenshots]

[quirkycatsfatstacks]

Review: Midnight Horizon by Daniel Jose Older

Review: Midnight Horizon by Daniel Jose Older

Series: Star Wars: The High RepublicAuthor: Daniel Jose OlderPublisher: Disney Lucasfilm PressReleased: February 1, 2022Received: NetGalley Midnight Horizon, by Daniel Jose Older, continues the tale of several Star Wars characters that many fans (myself included) have come to cherish. For those enjoying The High Republic run of novels, you’re not going to want to miss this one. Jedi Masters…

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Name of 'Mystery Man' Is Introduced Into Davis Murder Trial," The Province (Vancouver). March 13, 1943. Page 5. ---- ACCUSED SEEKS SPIKE WILLIAMS ---- The name of a "mystery man,""Spike" Williams, was introduced Friday into the Assize Court trial of Douglas Robert Beatty, who is charged with the murder of Taximan Phil Davis.

On October 17, seven days after Beatty had been arrested, and five days after he had made an oral and written statement in which he had said he killed the taxi driver, Beatty asked Detective Fred Lougheed to visit him in his cell.

There Beatty, according to Detective Lougheed's testimony, asked him if he know "Spike" Williams, whom he described as 35 years old, stocky in build, with a round face.

"If you can find him," Beatty is reported to have said, "I will bust this case wide open."

SEARCHED FILES. On cross-examination by Paul Murphy, defense counsel, Detective Lougheed said that he had reported the conversation to Detective Harry Whelan and Inspector E. A. Pettit, and that he had looked through the rogue's gallery in an attempt to find Williams' picture or record but had not succeeded. He said that he had not shown the rogue's gallery to Beatty nor further discussed the question with him.

Detective Whelan and Inspector Pettit testified they had been informed of Beatty's statement, but had done nothing more than the examination of the rogue's gallery. Inspector Pettit thought he might have reported the conversation to Superintendent James Graht, but could not swear to it.

CLERK CALLED. Crown Counsel E. J. Clark, K.C., called James Thomson, clerk of the Central City Mission to the stand to give evidence that Beatty had registered there on the nights of September 30, October 1, 8 and 9.

"Did you know a man named 'Spike Williams'?" asked Mr. Murphy on cross-examination.

"There was a chap by that name who had stayed there," said Mr. Thomson. "I don't remember seeing him lately. I haven's seen him for over a year."

Mr. Justice H. B. Robertson interjected, "Did you ever at anytime, Mr. Thomson, know a man named 'Spike Wiliams'?"

"Yes, but I can not say exactly when," answered Mr. Thomson. "It may have been a year ago, or a year and a half, possibly two."

QUIET MANNER. Beatty's manner at all times in talking to police officers, both on October 10 when he was. arrested and later when he made a statement saying that he had killed Phil Davis, was quiet, mild, inoffensive, very polite, and as far as the police officers could tell, quite normal, detectives testified Friday.

Detective Lougheed testified that he found keys to the taxicab which Phil Davis had driven on the night he met his death, in the 1900 block East Eighteenth and that they fitted the ignition of the cab. In his written statement, ready to the jury by Mr. Clark, Beatty told of throwing the keys away on the side of that street.

The crown's case, which has occupied five days of the murder trial, finished at 8:30 p.m. Friday. Beatty's statement to city police, which was ruled admissible.

[chili-paintings]

NO war NOwhere

[kate-bridgerton]

Dany stared at herself in silence. Is this the face of a conqueror? So far as she could tell, she still looked like a little girl.

No one was calling her Daenerys the Conqueror yet, but perhaps they would. Aegon the Conqueror had won Westeros with three dragons, but she had taken Meereen with sewer rats and a wooden cock, in less than a day. Poor Groleo. He still grieved for his ship, she knew. If a war galley could ram another ship, why not a gate? That had been her thought when she commanded the captains to drive their ships ashore. Their masts had become her battering rams, and swarms of freedmen had torn their hulls apart to build mantlets, turtles, catapults, and ladders. The sellswords had given each ram a bawdy name, and it had been the mainmast of Meraxes—formerly Joso’s Prank—that had broken the eastern gate. Joso’s Cock, they called it. The fighting had raged bitter and bloody for most of a day and well into the night before the wood began to splinter and Meraxes’ iron figurehead, a laughing jester’s face, came crashing through.

Dany had wanted to lead the attack herself, but to a man her captains said that would be madness, and her captains never agreed on anything. Instead she remained in the rear, sitting atop her silver in a long shirt of mail. She heard the city fall from half a league away, though, when the defenders’ shouts of defiance changed to cries of fear. Her dragons had roared as one in that moment, filling the night with flame. The slaves are rising, she knew at once. My sewer rats have gnawed off their chains. -- A Storm of Swords

[oldschoolfrp]

Belthar is a land of high mountains and green valleys perched atop a planet shard. Rivers reaching the rim fall into the void miles below, forming clouds that rise back up above the land. A secret cavern holds the Belthan war fleet, 30 galleys pulled by blue dragons. (Valerie Valusek, D&D module M1: Into the Maelstrom, TSR, 1985)

[fireismine]

DAENERYS TARGARYEN APPRECIATION WEEK 2023

Day 4: Character Parallels → Rhaena the Black Bride and Daenerys Stormborn

The Queen in the West:

In the Red Keep of King’s Landing sat the Queen Regent Alyssa, widow of the late King Aenys, mother to his son Jaehaerys, and wife to the King’s Hand, Rogar Baratheon. Just across Blackwater Bay on Dragonstone, a younger queen had arisen when Alyssa’s daughter Alysanne, a maid of thirteen years, had pledged her troth to her brother King Jaehaerys, against the wishes of her mother and her mother’s lord husband. And far to the west on Fair Isle, with the whole width of Westeros separating her from both mother and sister, was Alyssa’s eldest daughter, the dragonrider Rhaena Targaryen, widow of Prince Aegon the Uncrowned. In the westerlands, riverlands, and parts of the Reach, men were already calling her the Queen in the West. - A Surfeit of Rulers, Fire and Blood

~

Dany knew she would take more than a hundred, if she took any at all. "Remind your Good Master of who I am. Remind him that I am Daenerys Stormborn, Mother of Dragons, the Unburnt, trueborn queen of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. My blood is the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and of old Valyria before him." - Daenerys II, A Storm of Swords

Three Husbands:

Rhaena was married to Aegon the Uncrowned, Maegor the Cruel and Androw Farman.

~

Her silver was trotting through the grass, to a darkling stream beneath a sea of stars. A corpse stood at the prow of a ship, eyes bright in his dead face, grey lips smiling sadly. A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . . – Daenerys IV, A Clash of Kings

The Queen in the East:

“Done,” the king said…mayhaps too hastily, for it must be remembered that Aerea Targaryen, a girl of eight, was his own acknowledged successor, heir apparent to the Iron Throne. The consequences of this decision would not be known for years to come, however. For the nonce it was done, and the Queen in the West at a stroke became the Queen in the East. - A Time of Testing: The Realm Remade, Fire and Blood

~

"The best calumnies are spiced with truth," suggested Qavo, "but the girl's true sin cannot be denied. This arrogant child has taken it upon herself to smash the slave trade, but that traffic was never confined to Slaver's Bay. It was part of the sea of trade that spanned the world, and the dragon queen has clouded the water. Behind the Black Wall, lords of ancient blood sleep poorly, listening as their kitchen slaves sharpen their long knives. Slaves grow our food, clean our streets, teach our young. They guard our walls, row our galleys, fight our battles. And now when they look east, they see this young queen shining from afar, this breaker of chains. The Old Blood cannot suffer that. Poor men hate her too. Even the vilest beggar stands higher than a slave. This dragon queen would rob him of that consolation." - Tyrion VI, A Dance with Dragons

Refusing to Cry

When word of the battle reached the west and Princess Rhaena learned that both her husband and her friend Lady Melony had fallen, it is said she heard the news in a stony silence. “Will you not weep?” she was asked, to which she replied, “I do not have the time for tears.” - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

~

His business done, the captain of the Indigo Star bowed and took his leave. Dany shifted uncomfortably on the ebony bench. She dreaded what must come next, yet she knew she had put it off too long already. Yunkai and Astapor, threats of war, marriage proposals, the march west looming over all . . . I need my knights. I need their swords, and I need their counsel. Yet the thought of seeing Jorah Mormont again made her feel as if she'd swallowed a spoonful of flies; angry, agitated, sick. She could almost feel them buzzing round her belly. I am the blood of the dragon. I must be strong. I must have fire in my eyes when I face them, not tears. "Tell Belwas to bring my knights," Dany commanded, before she could change her mind. "My good knights." - Daenerys VI, A Storm of Swords

Gains Confidence After Bonding with a Dragon:

At the age of nine, however, Rhaena was presented with a hatchling from the pits of Dragonstone, and she and the young dragon she named Dreamfyre bonded instantly. With her dragon beside her, the princess slowly began to grow out of her shyness; at the age of twelve she took to the skies for the first time, and thereafter, though she remained a quiet girl, no one dared to call her timid. - The Sons of the Dragon, Fire and Blood

~

Day followed day, and night followed night, until Dany knew she could not endure a moment longer. She would kill herself rather than go on, she decided one night … Yet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her. She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce. And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was as if the gods had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. "Khaleesi," Jhiqui said, "what is wrong? Are you sick?" "I was," she answered, standing over the dragon's eggs that Illyrio had given her when she wed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shell. Black-and-scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream. The stone felt strangely warm beneath her fingers … or was she still dreaming? She pulled her hand back nervously. - Daenerys III, A Game of Thrones

[thetardigrape]

Most of my meta so far has dealt with Ed and Stede. As it should, they're the stars of OFMD.

But now I wanna talk about Lucius and Izzy. Because I've been dying over "Have you ever been sketched" for weeks and I need to talk about it. This is less of a meta and more of me just picking this scene apart because I love it so much.

The scene starts with Izzy naming a long list of chores Lucius will have to do. At this point, Lucius knows about Izzy the Spewer. He knows Izzy doesn't actually have the authority to make him do anything, and he knows a secret that Izzy definitely doesn't want spread around. So with his response to Izzy's demand that he does these chores, Lucius readies for his first blow.

Lucius has already used this line before. Crucially, back in the galley, he had nothing else to use against Izzy, and Izzy won that fight. But now, Lucius is armed. And Izzy's about to give him yet another weapon.

Izzy makes two mistakes here. First, he steps into Lucius's space. He's trying to use this as an intimidation tactic, and it might have almost worked, if not for his second mistake. He drops his gaze to Lucius's mouth. At this point, Lucius knows he's won.

Lucius purses his lips to the side and then licks them. Now he's just toying with Izzy. He goes on to shatter Izzy's offense, telling Pete himself that he drew Fang naked. Pete has a totally positive reaction, backing Lucius up. So Lucius counterattacks. He deploys the weapon Fang gave him.

Lucius has won the fight, no question. You can see it in the way Izzy's smirk falls. But this is just a single battle. Lucius means to win the war. He makes it so that Izzy will never try this shit again. He goes for the killing blow.

He was able to put together Izzy's "oo daddy" nonsense in the galley plus the way he kept stepping into Lucius's personal space plus that slightly-too-lingering look he gave Lucius's mouth and came up with the truth: Lucius wields a sexual power that they both know will break Izzy completely.

And it works! It works perfectly! Izzy never goes after him again, never calls him names or assigns him chores. Even when Blackbeard asks for Lucius specifically, Izzy refuses to look him in the eye to deliver the message.

The incredible power of Lucius's blatant sexuality. I love it. I just love it. This man uses gay as a weapon and he wins. Good for him. Good for him.

[ltwilliammowett]

Roman Bronze Ring with Galley Intaglio, c. 1st-4th century AD

[kazoosandfannypacks]

summary: "Though all Mandalorians placed heavy emphasis on the value of their beskar armor, for some it was just armor, a thing only to be taken up in a time of war. Others believed that to remove your helmet or even so much as a glove around another living being was to make yourself an outcast. Most Mandalorians fell somewhere on the spectrum between them, and house Wren and its clan leaned towards the latter, not allowing themselves to remove their helmet. Their custom held one distinct caveat: once a Mandalorian had chosen a partner, a partner for life, their souls bound by a tie no man could sever— then, and only for them, could they remove their helmet, and share their face for the first time with another living soul." or, "the au in which ezra falls for sabine without even seeing her face" word count: 7927 words a/n: I hope you guys are having a great week! the good news is that I'll hopefully be writing more fic over the next couple weeks! the bad news is that that's because I'm on crutches at the moment and avoiding doing fanarts for related reasons… let's just say, I now know firsthand that getting stabbed in the foot REALLY hurts. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, because I had a lot of fun writing it! It's my longest sabezra oneshot, so far, so that's exciting! shoutout to the talented and creative @kanerallels and the lovely and sillygirlcoded @laughingphoenixleader for betaing! taglist: @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @kanerallels @piraterefrigerator @jedi-nurse @dootchster @lucasbridger @redroverrider @light-umbra @commander-tech @jedimandalorian @notanodinarygirl {if you’d like to be added to or removed from my Sabezra taglist, let me know!}

also on ao3!

This is (Kinda) The Way

 There were two kinds of people Mandalorians disagreed with— others and themselves. For every disagreement a Mandalorian had with an outsider, they had even more among their own ranks. Customs, traditions, and language were the biggest one, especially when it came to the one thing that united them all— their armor.

 Though all Mandalorians placed heavy emphasis on the value of their beskar armor, for some it was just armor, a thing only to be taken up in a time of war. Others believed that to remove your helmet or even so much as a glove around another living being was to make yourself an outcast.

 Most Mandalorians fell somewhere on the spectrum between them, and house Wren and its clan leaned towards the latter, not allowing themselves to remove their helmet. Their custom held one distinct caveat: once a Mandalorian had chosen a partner, a partner for life, their souls bound by a tie no man could sever— then, and only for them, could they remove their helmet, and share their face for the first time with another living soul.

🧡•💜•🧡

 If this were a normal day, Ezra would be sitting on the familiar outskirts of his home city right now, feasting on whatever he could get his hands on. Instead, he was on a starship in the vacuum of space, with a group of rebels who thought it better to steal for others than for themselves— and somehow, it felt right, not just helping others, but the people he was helping others with.

 In the few days he'd been on the Ghost, he'd gotten to know everyone pretty well. Hera was kind and brave, Kanan was cranky but meant well and cared about people almost as much as Hera did, Zeb would flatten him if he got within two feet of himself or his food, and Chopper loved nothing more than making others miserable— overall, it wasn't an awful combination.

 The one member of the crew Ezra had a hard time connecting with was Sabine. Maybe it was because of how she'd shrug him off whenever he'd talk to her, or the fact that she didn't eat in the galley with the rest of the Spectres— but more than likely, it was because she was always wearing that helmet, and the armor that (mostly) matched it. He'd never seen her without it, and from what he'd gathered, no one else in the crew had either.

 That afternoon, he'd run into her in the galley, as she was grabbing a meal to take back to her room. No one else was around, so he figured now was as good a time as any to risk a social blunder.

 "Why do you always wear that armor?" Ezra asked.

 Sabine stopped partway through the cup of juice she was pouring herself, just for a moment, then continued.

 "I'm a Mandalorian," Sabine said.

 "Okay?" Ezra shrugged. Mandalorians had come to Lothal before, and they'd had no problems with taking off their helmets. "I've seen Mandalorians take off their helmets before."

 "Well, they must not've been from clan Wren," Sabine said. That was the closest she gave to an explanation before storming off, much faster than normal.

 Ezra told himself not to replicate that mistake again.

🧡•💜•🧡

 "Can I talk to you?" Ezra asked, taking a seat in the cockpit diagonal from Hera— Sabine's seat, he could tell from the paint job, but she wasn't around anyways at the moment.

 "Sure," Hera said.

 "I just," Ezra sighed, "I know you're the best person to ask— that is if I don't wanna get laughed at for asking or end up getting my question answered with two more questions I don't know the answer to like Kanan always does."

 Hera smiled a little as Ezra said that, which he added to his mental folder of What Exactly Is Going On Between Kanan And Hera, Anyways?

 "Why doesn't Sabine take off her helmet?" Ezra asked, "I know lots of Mandalorians who do, well, one or two of them, and I don't really personally know them, but..."

 He could tell his question had been a serious one to Hera, because when he asked, she turned away from the ship's controls for the first time since before he came in. Instead, she turned to Ezra, her hands folded in her lap as she leaned toward him.

 "Not all Mandalorians are the same," Hera said, "just like not all Twil'eks, humans, or Jedi. Different clans have different customs they adhere to."

 Ezra nodded. That kind of made sense.

 "What happened to the rest of Sabine's clan?" Ezra asked. It was hard to tell exactly how old she was because of the helmet, but she didn't seem too much older than he was, and he'd never heard mention of her family.

 "Mandalorians are a brave people," Hera answered, slowly, "fierce warriors who don't like change in their customs and traditions. Naturally they're not the kind of people the Empire likes having around. I never asked questions when we found Sabine, at least, not after I learned she wouldn't answer them."

 Hera shook her head, and Ezra nodded. The Empire had probably done the same thing to Sabine's family that they'd done to his.

 "Armor is important to a Mandalorian," Hera said, "handed down from generation to generation. It might be one of the only things she still has."

 "I get it," Ezra said, and stood up to leave.

 "One more thing," Hera said, and Ezra turned back to her, "she may have a rough exterior, but that doesn't mean she doesn't need a few good friends."

 Ezra nodded. If there was anyone who seemed hard to make friends with, it was Sabine— so if there was anyone who needed friends, it must be her.

🧡•💜•🧡

 Even in the midst of yet another heated disagreement with Chopper and Zeb, Ezra wasn't gonna abandon Operation Be Sabine's Friend, so when he saw her painting in her room with the door open, he only felt it right to stop and say hi.

 "What are you working on?" Ezra asked, leaning his arm against the doorframe.

 "A little piece I like to call 'none of your business.'"

 "Okay," Ezra shrugged, "well, if you ever get tired of painting 'none of your business' and need inspiration..."

 "I'll be sure to look elsewhere," Sabine said, then mumbled something under her breath in some language Ezra didn't understand.

 Ezra didn't have time to ask what that meant before Chopper zoomed by, running into Ezra and almost knocking into him, and leaving Ezra to forget about his quest to befriend Sabine.

 At least, until that night, when he counted it a victory that Sabine had painted himself and Zeb on the wall of their room, even if it was the most humiliating representation of him he'd ever seen.

🧡•💜•🧡

 Ezra knocked on Sabine's door, and was surprised when she actually opened it this time.

 "What is it?" Sabine asked, arms crossed.

 "She must be in a better mood than normal today," Ezra thought.

 "I just," Ezra shrugged, "I know you like doing art and painting and stuff, and you do a really good job at it."

 "And?" Sabine asked.

 "I," Ezra pulled a stormtrooper helmet out from behind his back, "I wanted to know if you'd paint this for me?"

 "Why?"

 "I wanted a helmet to wear on missions," Ezra said, "that way no one knows who I am."

 "What, using other criminal's names as an alias just isn't cutting it for you?"

 "I'm serious," Ezra said.

 "Then wouldn't it be better to leave it plain?" Sabine asked, though she took the helmet from him, which was a good sign, and she held it up and surveyed its surfaces.

 "Nope," Ezra said, "last time I went in there with a white bucket, Zeb said he couldn't tell the difference between me and the troopers and knocked me out cold. I don't want him to have that excuse anymore."

 "I'll see what I can do," Sabine said. She closed the door before Ezra could get another word in, and he didn't see her for the rest of the day.

🧡•💜•🧡

 "Look alive, Jedi!"

 Ezra looked up just in time to see an unidentified flying object hurtling towards his face, and surprised himself by catching it— this Jedi stuff was really paying off. He looked at the large chunk of plastoid in his hands and quickly recognized it as the helmet he'd given Sabine the previous morning, though now it had a fresh paint job. Ezra didn't know much about art, but he could recognize Sabine's handiwork.

 "It's perfect," he said, looking up overtop it to see Sabine, seating herself proudly on the table he was sitting at.

 "It's nothing," Sabine said, "the only thing better than painting is defacing Imperial property in the process."

 Ezra smiled as he tried the helmet on, suddenly remembering something else he'd taken— or, helped take, anyways— from the Empire.

 "This is great," Ezra said, then leaned closer to her, "I just might commission you to work your magic on some other stolen Imperial property, if you're up to it. Something much larger than a helmet."

 He could hear the excitement in her voice, despite how hard she tried to hide it.

 "What do you have in mind?"

🧡•💜•🧡

 "A TIE Fighter?" Sabine asked, standing outside the cave on Lothal not long after, "are you crazy?"

 "Come on," Ezra said, wondering if this was a mistake, "you said you wanted to deface government property."

 "How did you even get a TIE Fighter here?" Sabine asked. 

 She walked around the fighter, clearly studying its surfaces as though envisioning what they'd look like when she was done with it.

 Ezra smiled. She'd already taken the bait.

 "Zeb and I may have 'borrowed' it when we went on a wild meiloorun hunt," he explained.

 "Yeah," her helmet peeked out around the wing she was standing behind, "and Kanan and Hera told you to destroy it."

 "I know," Ezra fake-sighed, "but our options were blow it up without the best explosives expert on our team— or leave it as a canvas for her next masterpiece. I guess the choice is up to you..."

 "Go grab my spraycans."

🧡•💜•🧡

 Ezra had never watched Sabine work before, but she'd said he could stay as long as he kept lookout at the mouth of the cave and didn't say anything, and Ezra took that as a step up from the usual.

 He bit back his hundreth question in the last few hours, knowing that if he was going to get Sabine mad at him for talking, it would have to be something a lot better than "is orange your favorite color? Mine too."

 He held his hand out and sensed as much as he could, every Loth Rat and Loth Cat within a good sized radius of the cave— but not another sentient life for about as far.

 The very first orange hues started creeping into the horizon. They'd need to be getting back soon.

 He turned back to Sabine, and since he couldn't see her face, he'd learned to read her body language to make up for it, and she seemed to really be enjoying herself and her work.

 He'd never seen an artist at work before, and was impressed by how in command of the spraycan she was. Ezra had tried drawing once or twice, and found his Loth Cats looked like angry jogan fruits, and his people looked like a platter of noodles that'd just had a very bad day.

 Apparently, reflection on his own inability to draw wasn't the best thing to do on an empty stomach.

 But Sabine's art was almost less like a drawing and more like a piece of herself, like maybe if Ezra studied it enough, he'd see all the pieces of her she hid.

 And if that was the case, then she must be absolutely beautiful.

 "Wow," Ezra whispered, apparently not as quietly as he absentmindedly had thought.

 "That doesn't sound like not talking," Sabine was quick to reply.

 "Sorry," Ezra shook his head, not even having noticed until now how hard he was staring at her, "I just, how are you so good at that?"

 "Practice," Sabine said, "a little hard work and discipline will get you pretty far."

 "That's what Kanan's always saying," Ezra rolled his eyes.

 "Well maybe you should start listening," Sabine called back, "or, at the very least, stop talking."

 "Sorry," Ezra said, then looked back out at the horizon. As much as he enjoyed this secret painting session, he was getting hungry, and knew the rest of the crew would be suspicious if he missed a meal.

 "We should get heading back soon," Ezra said, "It's almost dark."

 "I'm almost done," Sabine said, adding one last white stripe, "there. Now I'm done."

 Ezra got up and walked over to the TIE Fighter, in awe.

 "Am I allowed to talk now?" Ezra asked.

 "I guess," Sabine said. He could hear the sarcasm in her voice as she packed up her art supplies.

 "It's amazing," Ezra said, "way to stick it to the Empire."

 "I am pretty good at what I do," Sabine shrugged.

 "Oh, more than that," Ezra said, "it's a shame no one else will ever see this."

 "It's not about others seeing it," Sabine said, grabbing her case of spraycans, "this one was for me. It's about the process."

 Ezra nodded. After seeing how lost in the process Sabine got, he understood why it all meant so much to her.

 "Sabine?" he said, as they left the cave.

 "Yeah?"

 "Thanks for sharing it with me."

🧡•💜•🧡

 Ezra had always thought Sabine was cool. He met her stealing from the Empire, and she'd jumped off a rooftop onto a moving speederbike— how much cooler could someone get? Combined with the custom armor and quick wit, she was strong contender for coolest person he'd ever met.

 And the more he got to know her, the cooler she got. She designed her own armor. She was a weapons expert. She was, apparently, fluent in two different languages, which was probably what made her so quick to come up with insults.

 Sabine always knew what to say, good or bad— usually scalding and rude— and Ezra didn't mind hearing it. Somehow she could make an insult feel as special as a compliment. It was almost like the sound of her voice was enough to give him unreasonable joy.

 "Ugh," Zeb growled one night as he trudged into their room, "why haven't you gotten rid of that thing Sabine painted on the wall?"

 "It's not a thing!" Ezra defended, sitting up on his bunk, "it's art."

 "It's a stupid drawing of us from years ago," Zeb said, "and frankly, I'm getting tired of looking at it."

 "Yeah," Ezra said, "well, I'm not."

 He turned his back to him as he laid back down, but not before noticing a smile on the Lasat's face, and he could hear him chuckle over his shoulder.

 "That's what I thought," Zeb said, smugly.

 "What?"

 "Oh, nothing," Zeb laughed, something surprisingly not unpleasant in his voice.

 Ezra recognized that tone. It was the same tone the guys on the base used whenever he'd tell them about the latest mission he'd gone on with Sabine, and it usually carried a "wow, Bridger, when are you gonna just ask the tin can out already?" with it. The other young guys in the rebellion were, well, just that, young guys. They could scarcely go more than five minutes without talking about girls and who was going with who and which girls they would be going with if this war ever gave them a night off, so it was only natural that they'd joke about the possibility that Ezra had a crush on Sabine.

 But Zeb? Zeb had never talked with Ezra about girls or feelings or anything like that before, never even hinted at it— until now. Something about a mostly-trusted, somewhat-wise, maybe-in-some-ways-experienced crewmate hinting at it made the possibility of Ezra liking Sabine made it feel all the more real.

 "There's no way I have a crush on Sabine," Ezra thought, "I've never even seen her face before. I mean, she is amazing, coolest person I know. And sure, I like spending time with her, and anytime I start talking to her I don't want to stop, but that's normal, right? And sure, my heart skipped a beat that time she grabbed my arm to pull me out of the way of Imperial fire, but what if that's just the adrenaline of the fight, right? Just because I can't stop thinking about her and want to keep hanging out with her for the rest of my life and feel all giggly whenever I think about her doesn't mean I have a crush on her, right?"

 He looked over at her handiwork graffitied on his wall and smiled rather stupidly.

 "Who am I kidding?" Ezra sighed, "I definitely have a crush on her."

🧡•💜•🧡

 It wasn't too long before Ezra had realized that not only did he have feelings for Sabine, those feelings were growing. More and more frequently, he caught himself thinking about her when he was supposed to be doing other things like Jedi meditations and recon missions.

 A favored distraction of his male curiosity was Sabine and her constantly shrouded face. He respected her privacy, and never attempted to see her face— besides, maybe the mystery was part of the charm— and often when he'd fall asleep at night, he'd try to imagine what her face looked like. At first, the faces ended up looking similar to other people, girls he'd met on the base, a bounty hunter he'd had a run-in with, or even a merchant girl he'd seen in the village. But every time, she seemed Not Quite Right, and he'd try again. Eventually he started coming up with all kinds of versions of her— one night she'd be a redhead, the next he'd imagine her with green skin, then after that she'd have eyes that were just black blobs— it didn't really matter. He'd only ever see her with her helmet on anyway, so what did it matter?

 But even with the helmet, anytime she walked in the room, he could feel his heart race like she was the most beautiful girl alive.

🧡•💜•🧡

 "Karabast," Ezra muttered, jumping back a bit by instinct from the blue milk that overflowed from the glass he was pouring it into and spilling all over his hand, and now onto the floor.

 "I should know better than to pour myself a drink when Sabine enters the galley," Ezra thought, setting his drink down on the counter behind him as he searched for a cloth to clean it up with, "a Jedi has to stay focused."

 "Need a hand?"

 He heard Sabine's voice behind him and turned around quickly— too quickly, as his forehead rammed into helmet.

 "Ow!" Ezra said, wondering what could possibly make an armor that hard.

 "Sorry," Sabine said, and her gloved hand touched the now-sore spot on his forehead, "are you alright?'

 "I'm fine," Ezra said, ignoring the pain in his forehead for the moment. He'd dropped the towel, and now he swirled it around the floor with his foot to clean up the spill, knowing that as bad as the injury was, it couldn't be nearly as bad as what would happen if Hera caught sight of the mess he'd made. "My forehead isn't dented, is it?"

 "I'm no medic," Sabine said, opening the conservator and scrounging around in it, "but it looks like it'll be the opposite. At least you'll be able to make up one of your elaborate stories about the bump it'll leave."

 "Oh yeah," Ezra said, "about how I accidentally went head-to-head with a Mandalorian and ended up almost literally crying over spilled milk."

 She laughed a little at his attempted joke, then pulled a frozen bag out of the conservator.

 "Put this on it," Sabine handed it to him, "that'll numb the pain and slow the bruising, or something like that."

 "Thanks," Ezra said, and as he pressed the bag of frozen rations to his forehead, Sabine bent down and finished taking care of his mess on the floor.

 "What happened, anyways?" she asked.

 "I guess I got distracted," Ezra said, still distracted by her.

 "While pouring a glass of milk?" Sabine asked, looking up at him quizzically before turning back to her work of drying up the floor.

 "Yeah," Ezra scratched the back of his neck.

 "I've noticed you've seemed a little spacey recently," Sabine said, "almost distant. Something on your mind?"

 "More like someone," Ezra said, before he could stop himself, and she looked up again before he had a chance to get that stupid love struck smile off his face.

 She stopped what she was doing for half a second, then got up off the floor.

 "I gotta go," Sabine said.

 "Sabine...."

 She tossed the towel onto the counter behind him and turned to leave, but Ezra didn't want to see her go, not now or ever. He searched his words for something to say that would make her stay.

 "I don't know how to ask you out!"

 Ezra could tell without even needing to see her face that, as unexpected as his words were, Sabine still couldn't've been more surprised to hear him say that than he was. Still, she stopped and turned halfway back to him, so whatever he'd just done, had accidentally worked.

 "What?"

 "Normally if I wanted to ask a girl out," Ezra said, knowing the oncoming ramble was going to sound desperate— which wasn't entirely inaccurate, "which, technically I never have— at least, not with it actually leading to a date— but if I did, I'd ask them if they wanna go get dinner, which you, specifically, don't really do with people. So then I'd ask about getting ice cream instead, but then: same problem. So then I've been trying to think of different activities you like that we could do together, but all I could think of is fighting the Empire and defacing government property— which we already do together, and could do more of, but those don't really sound like date night activities, unless we were holding hands, but...."

 Sabine had walked over to him while he was rambling, and now she stood in front of him, arms crossed.

 "Are you asking me on a date, Ezra?" Sabine asked.

 "I'm trying to," Ezra said, "is it working?"

 "Me?" Sabine asked, "you want to go on a date with me?"

 "That's the hope," he shrugged, "if you're up for it."

 "Why?" Sabine asked, "is this some cheap attempt to try and get my guard down? It's not some ploy to try to see me without my helmet, right? Because...."

 "I know," Ezra said, "you don't take your helmet off. It's a clan thing. I wouldn't ask that of you."

 Sabine took a heavy breath. "You'd really go out on a date with me, armor and all, just because you like to spend time with me? No ulterior motives?"

 "Absolutely."

 "And you're okay with the fact that you'd never see my face?"

 "Absolutely," Ezra said.

 "How about a holofilm at seven tomorrow night?"

 "Eat dinner separately first?" Ezra asked.

 "Sounds like a date."

 He smiled as Sabine walked away, unsure how he'd managed to do that, but very glad that he had.

🧡•💜•🧡

 About halfway through the holofilm, Sabine's hand found its way into Ezra's.

 "You're okay with the fact that I'm wearing gloves?" Sabine had whispered.

 "Of course," Ezra'd whispered back, his emotions a flutter at the mere fact that she was on a date was him, that her hand was in his at all, even with the layer of leather between them.

 Sabine Wren had said yes to a date with him, and now their fingers were interlocked as they watched a holofilm together at the base's rec room. Her helmet, hard and heavy though it was, laid against his shoulder. What more could he possibly ask for?

 As they walked back to The Ghost together afterwards, their fingers were still entwined.

 Ezra noticed the chill in the air— he'd been planning on it, and had worn a jacket over his nicer shirt tonight, because he knew either he'd be cold, or, better yet, she'd be cold, and he'd have the chance to do what the boyfriends in all the old holos did.

 Much to Ezra's delight, Sabine shivered as a gust of wind blew across the base.

 "Those old Mandalorian traditions don't say anything against wearing a jacket over your armor, do they?" Ezra asked.

 "Well, no," Sabine said, and before she could say anything more, he'd let go of her hand, taken his jacket off, and draped both the jacket and his arm over her shoulder.

 "How's that?" Ezra asked.

 Sabine huddled a little bit closer to him.

 "Perfect," she said.

 They walked together in silence for a moment, Ezra knowing full well that if he opened his mouth he'd ruin the moment and blow all chances of a second date.

 "Ezra?" Sabine asked, her voice a whisper as they neared the Ghost.

 "Yeah?"

 She stopped in her tracks, and he did too.

 "Do you want to do this again sometime?" Sabine looked at him, her head barely tilted up, a glimmer of a reflection of the stars in her visor.

 "If it's all the same with you," Ezra said, his tone still hushed, "I'd like to do this again a lot more times."

 "Really?" Sabine asked, "you wouldn't have a problem going steady with someone you've never seen face to face?"

 "Of course not," Ezra said, and he turned toward her and took both of her cold gloved hands in his, "I could spend the rest of my life with you and still not have a problem with never seeing your face."

 Sabine didn't respond, and Ezra was bad enough at reading expressions, but especially when he couldn't even see the other person's expressions. Maybe that was too soon, too fast. On any other first date, that would've seemed too forward, but when you've been fighting side by side with someone for years, living on the same ship and sharing your struggles, a first date hardly felt like the first one. Still, maybe something as big as "I want to spend the rest of my life with you," was a little too much for a first date doorstop conversation, and he'd probably ruined his chances right there.

 He loosened his grip on her hands, but she tightened hers, not letting his hands slip away.

 "I don't always have to wear my helmet, Ezra," Sabine said.

 "What?" Ezra asked, "I mean, I know you take it off to eat, and probably to sleep too, and maybe when you use the sonic, not that I've thought about that, but you always have to wear it around others, right? That's what Hera said."

 "Hera doesn't know everything," Sabine said, "I can take off my helmet, but...."

 Her voice trailed off, but he desperately wanted to follow it. He nodded and squeezed her hands a little, silently pleading her to continue.

 "Our clans customs don't say we can't ever take off our helmets," Sabine said, "but that the only person who can see us without our helmets is our ruusaar riduur, our life partner. It's a huge commitment, one that some spouses don't even make with each other."

 Ezra smiled. "So you're saying I have a chance?"

 "I'm saying there's almost no chance," Sabine said, "like I said, it's a commitment, and I don't do so well with committing to anything, and, besides, we'll probably fall apart before we reach that point anyway."

 "Not on my watch," Ezra said, not about to let anything happen to push Sabine out of his life, "and thank you for telling me."

 "This still doesn't change anything." 

 "Of course not," Ezra said, "I still love you just the way you are."

 He was barely an inch or two taller than her, but that didn't stop him from standing on his tiptoes, leaning towards her, and planting a kiss on top of her helmet.

 "Same time next week?" Sabine asked.

 "It's a date," Ezra said.

🧡•💜•🧡

 Several dates and missions and trials and soft-giggles-while-staring-at-each-other-from-a-distance-es later, Sabine found herself with the choice to go back to help her people. Though Ezra strongly encouraged her to go, it wasn't without tears on both of their parts, and if it wasn't for the whispered, "I'll wait for you"s in their goodbye hug before she left, he would've certainly assumed it was over for them.

 But instead he held out hope for them, trusted that the same force that brought them together and connected them across the galaxy would bring them back together, and his waiting paid off not long after, when he found her in his arms again, this time in a hug that meant hello instead of goodbye.

 "I've missed you," Ezra whispered, holding her tightly and not willing to let her go, ignoring for the moment that Kanan and her entire clan were watching them.

 "Me too," Sabine whispered.

 He then let her go, knowing he hadn't made a great impression on her family the first time he met them and wanting to rectify that— especially when they began the mission to save her father. Maybe he kriffed up in his first meeting with her mom and her brother, but he determined that her dad's first impression of him would be a good one.

🧡•💜•🧡

 "Are you with my daughter?" Alrich asked, as Ezra jumped in to save him as part of their mission.

 "If that's okay with you, sir," Ezra said, then realized the question was about the status of her rescue mission, not the status of her relationship, "I mean, uh, yeah, we're, uh, we're here to rescue you."

 Though his answer wasn't more rambly than normal, he felt more like an idiot than normal. Sabine always found his stumbling through his words cute and endearing, but the other Mandalorians didn't appreciate his candid words much, preferring instead to see action. So, Ezra made sure to show plenty of it, fighting alongside them later with such reckless boldness that he took a blaster bolt to the left shoulder and still kept going until the battle was over.

 As the medical droid tended to his wound, Sabine sat next to him, holding his right hand lovingly as she sent forth a flurry of angry Mando'an words at him that amounted to a more colorful version of "don't you dare do something that dangerous and stupid again."

 "Aww, 'Bine," Ezra smiled under his helmet, (he always wore one of his repurposed helmets on Krownest, to respect her people's traditions,) "I didn't know you cared so much."

 "Maybe next time that happens I'll just let you bleed out," Sabine teased.

 "You wouldn't dare," Ezra said, "besides, what is it you always say? Something about finding my combat skills and selfless bravery attractive?"

 "Bravery?" Sabine asked, "more like borderline stupidity."

 "And this one was skillful, brave, and borderline stupid," Ezra said, wishing his helmet didn't hide the playful expression on his face, "admit it, you thought it was hot."

 "Maybe a little," Sabine said nudging his uninjured shoulder with hers, "just never do something that ho- stupid again, understand?"

 "You and I both know I can't avoid that," Ezra said.

 "I know," Sabine faked an overdramatic sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder.

🧡•💜•🧡

 Apparently his heroics charmed the rest of the clan as well, especially Alrich. Sabine chose to return with Ezra and Kanan to the Rebellion, and as her family gathered to say their farewells, her father bestowed upon Ezra a special gift.

 "We want you to have this," he said, and handed Ezra a shoulder pauldron, one that was inlaid with the Wren family crest.

 "Thank you," Ezra said, studying the heavy hunk of metal he'd been gifted, then looking up at Sabine's parents with gratitude, "it's a huge honor."

 "You were shot protecting our clan," Ursa said, "and Clan Wren honors that. This shoulder guard will protect your arm while it heals. Not even your lightsaber is strong enough to cut it."

 "Is this real beskar?" Ezra asked.

 "Of course," Ursa said, "it belonged to Sabine's ancestors. Clan Wren has carried it for generations, and counting."

 Ezra didn't exactly have time to unpack all the meaning in that sentence, but he was pretty sure those last few words meant something along the lines of Ezra being on his way to becoming part of their clan now, a high honor.

 "Thank you," Ezra said.

 "Be good to her," was all Alrich said in reply, and as Sabine's hand slipped into Ezra's, he understood what he meant.

 "I will," Ezra nodded, "I don't intend to do anything that stupid."

 "He made a promise not to do anything stupid," Sabine said.

 "The jury's still out on how long Bridger can keep from doing something stupid," her brother interrupted, "but he's earned my respect."

 "I'll take care of her," Ezra said, "and if I don't, well, I have full confidence that she can 'take care' of me, and probably knows at least a dozen ways to hide the body."

 "Two dozen," Sabine said, and that's when Ezra knew he'd been on Krownest for too long, because there was something almost romantic in the way she'd just threatened him, and he'd been around Mandalorians long enough that he enjoyed it.

🧡•💜•🧡

 As soon as they were back on the ship on the way back to the fleet, Ezra took off his helmet. He didn't like how it limited his visibility, its awkward bulk, how heavy it made his head feel. He then took off his gloves so he could fluff his hair up a little— another thing he couldn't stand about his helmet was how sweaty it made his hair, and somehow at the same time staticky, clinging closely to his head in a way that didn't feel natural.

 He heard a sigh behind him and saw Sabine sitting on the bench he stood next to, the chin of her helmet resting on her fists, her arms propped up on her knees, apparently watching him with great interest.

 "What?" Ezra asked, smiling as he sat down next to her.

 "I've missed your stupid face," Sabine sighed, her gloved hand running along his scars as though she thought she'd never see them again. Though they'd seen each other a lot these past few days, Ezra'd never taken his helmet off unless he was by himself— or with just Kanan, who obviously didn't mind that Ezra didn't follow Mandalorian customs around him, and if he had minded, wouldn't've noticed anyways.

 But Sabine hadn't seen Ezra's face since before they first went to Krownest together, months ago, and from the tenderness of her leather touch, he knew it'd been too long for her.

 "Well," Ezra said, trying to flirt back and failing to find the words, "I'd missed your stupid, uh, helmet?"

 She laughed a little. "It's good to be going home."

 Ezra slid his hand under and around hers, and whispered, "you have no idea."

🧡•💜•🧡

 Not too long after, Sabine and Ezra sat in the only place they'd ever found they could share a quiet moment together on the Ghost, sitting next to each other on the bottom bunk in Sabine's room.

 Well, "sitting next to each other" was an understatement. His arm was wrapped around her, and her hand held his, and her helmet rested on his chest, and they were talking and laughing with each other in a way they were sure no one else in the galaxy had ever experienced or could possibly understand.

 "I still don't know how I managed this," Ezra said.

 "Managed what?" Sabine asked.

 "The coolest, smartest, most beautiful girl in the entire Rebellion is my girlfriend," Ezra shook his head, "not bad for a street rat."

 Apparently only one word in that sentence mattered to Sabine.

 "Beautiful?" Sabine asked, "Ezra, you've never seen my face."

 "I don't have to to know that you're beautiful," Ezra said.

 "How do you figure that?"

 "Well, I've seen your art," Ezra started, "you're always saying that art is a reflection of the artist, and if that's the case, you must be absolutely gorgeous, because you're the most talented artist I've ever seen."

 Sabine nestled closer to him and hid herself even further in his embrace, like she often did when she was embarrassed by how much Ezra was complimenting her. The joke was on her though, because he really enjoyed it when she did that, and it only made him want to shower her with even more praise.

 "And I've heard your voice," Ezra said, "and anyone who can make an insult sound as pretty as you can must be very pretty herself. You have a really pretty laugh, too...."

 "Okay, I get it," Sabine said, barely stifling a really pretty and slightly flustered giggle.

 "I'm not done," Ezra said, "I've also seen how you fight, how graceful and smooth in even the most deadly battles. That's beauty. The pride in each and every one of your explosions that goes as planned, that's beauty. That tone of voice that makes me know your face is shining under that helmet: beauty; the heart you have that can't help but help others, no matter how you try to hide it— it's all so beautiful. You're all so beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful to me."

 "But you still haven't seen my face," Sabine said.

 "And I've told you a hundred thousand times it doesn't matter," Ezra said, "that I'd spend the rest of my life with you, even if I could never see your face."

 "And do you mean that?"

 "Every time."

 "Not just the 'if you'd never see my face' part," Sabine clarified, "the other part. You said it when we were younger, that you'd spend the rest of your life with me if you could. Do you still mean that as much as you did back then?"

 Ezra sat up properly, this conversation seeming to have gotten a bit more serious and wanting to show that he recognized that.

 "Sabine, I mean it so much more than I did back then," Ezra said, taking both her hands in his, "every time I say it I mean it a little bit more. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

 "But do you mean that?"

 "With all my heart."

 Sabine took a deep breath.

 "It's not like I'll never take off my helmet," Sabine said, "showing my face would be a sign of commitment. It would show that I'm absolutely sure I want to spend the rest of my life with someone. I'd have to know that I love someone enough, with all my heart and soul, to want to them to be my forever."

 "'Ruusaar riduur' is what you called it before," Ezra said.

 "Yeah," Sabine said.

 She slipped her hands out of his, and before he had the chance to wonder if it was because he'd done something wrong, he realized it must be because he'd done something right. Her hands gripped the sides of her helmet, then pulled it off her head.

 Ezra found himself absolutely speechless as he looked the face that he'd loved for years but only met now. He'd pictured her looking hundreds of thousands of ways, but this face, with the big brown eyes, and the shy smile, and the dark hair that didn't even reach her shoulders and somehow looked flawless despite her having worn her helmet for the last few hours, and this face— her face— was the most beautiful face he'd ever seen.

 It took him a moment to understand what it all meant. If she'd taken her helmet off, that meant that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him— the most beautiful girl in the world (and now he could with all the more integrity say that about her appearance) wanted to share her beauty with him, and only him, for the rest of her life? He didn't think he was lucky enough for this moment to ever come, but now, here it was, and she was lovely, and he loved her, and he'd never wanted to kiss her more in his life, and she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he could spend the rest of all time with her, and now, now he had to find some way to say the words that were swirling around in his mind.

💜•🧡•💜

 "You don't have to do this," Sabine thought, as she let go of Ezra's hands, "he likes you, you like him. Why risk vulnerability and commitment?"

 But as she looked at Ezra, she found she wanted commitment more than she'd ever imagined. She wanted him to know her face as intimately as she knew his, to see with his own two eyes who she really was, and for herself to look at him without her visor altering her perception.

 So, slowly, giving herself enough time to stop herself if she regretted it, she pulled her helmet off her head, for the first time in front of another life form since she'd put it on as a child, what felt like a lifetime ago. It felt vulnerable, and terrifying, but also freeing. She looked up at Ezra and smiled a little, wondering if he loved her face as much as he loved the rest of her— as much as she loved him.

 "Maybe this was a mistake," she thought, "maybe I should've just let him keep whatever version of me existed in his mind." She'd seen him flirt with lots of girls, back before they started dating, and none of them ever looked quite like her. What if, even without her armor, she still wasn't enough for him?

 But the smile that spread across his face said it all, and if not, enough words tumbled out at a parsec a minute to make up for the verbiage his expression could've lacked.

 "Why did you take off your helmet?" Ezra asked, and though anyone else could've left it at that question, the man she loved would never, and he followed it up with seventeen more. "how are you so pretty? I didn't know it was possible for someone to be so beautiful. Does this mean you want to spend forever with me, because I want to spend forever with you too? You're so pretty. I mean, that's not why I want to spend forever with you. I'd spend forever with you if I didn't get to see your face, but I'm so glad I get to see your face. You're literally the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my entire life; I want to kiss you so badly. I mean, not that I'm gonna kiss you, unless you want me to, I just, I've never seen someone so beautiful in my whole entire life. I just, I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting you to be so beautiful, I mean, not that I wasn't expecting you to be so beautiful, but I couldn't've expected you to be so beautiful, but, holy kriff…"

 Sabine already had a hard enough time with Ezra complimenting her on things she was often praised for, like her abilities and talents, but now that he was complimenting her on her beauty— she didn't know what beauty was, and how was she supposed to know if she was beautiful? Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder, and no one had beheld her before, especially not like this. As it was, she almost wished that she was still wearing her helmet, because she was blushing so hard it was almost embarrassing.

 This had to stop. At the rate Ezra was going, he could go on talking like this for another three hours without sign of slowing down.

 Though Ezra was the only boy she'd ever dated, she knew boys well enough to know they came with one handy special feature— there was a pretty easy way to shut them up, one she'd secretly been wanting to try since before they left Krownest. Somewhere in his rambled confessions, she'd heard the words, "I want to kiss you," and lucky for him, the feeling was mutual.

 Before his lips could get him into any more trouble, she took over for them, grabbing him by the shirt collar and sending his lips crashing into hers. It still took him a couple seconds to grasp what was happening and shut up— that's about when the whispered "holy kriff" at the end came in— but he quickly understood the assignment, and as his lips touched hers, his hand touched her face, something passionate and gentle and unfamiliar and overwhelming. No one had seen her face before, let alone touched it. And now, here was his hand, his fingers twirling on her cheek, his other hand on her neck, with his thumb stroking a soft spot behind her ear.

 She pulled away from him, all of it seeming too good to be true. But when she read the love and excitement in his shining blue eyes, she believed it herself.

 "I love you," she whispered.

 "I love you too," he whispered back.

 And now, she was absolutely certain that he meant it.

💜•🧡•💜

 A few months later, they were back on Krownest— not for war, or for reunion, but for a wedding. 

 Sabine had told Ezra that he didn't need to adapt to her customs, that if they forged him his own armor, he'd be making the same commitment to it she had, but he insisted on becoming part of her world. She'd painted his armor herself, colors custom chosen by them both, and repainted her own armor to match it. He'd started wearing the helmet right away, partly because it was better than the repurposed trooper helmet he'd been wearing, and partly because he wanted to get used to the weight of it, and partly because he enjoyed looking like he belonged here.

 But except for that and the left shoulder guard that he'd scarcely taken off since he got it, Ezra hadn't worn the rest of his armor until today, when they stood side by side in a private wedding ceremony they held on the Ghost. It was a small gathering, Sabine's family and the Spectres as the only guests in attendance, but the happy couple hardly even noticed them. The ceremony passed quickly, even for a Mandalorian one, which was always quick anyways.

 If you'd asked her later, Sabine wouldn't be able to tell you much from that day, except for Ezra, and how she could almost feel the look on his face as he said his vows to her, and how deeply they both meant it when they declared themselves one with each other, and how there'd never been a more precious keldabe kiss (or "bonk of endearment" as Ezra would often call it in his silly little way with words) than the one that followed that ceremony.

 And the most perfect moment of her life would come that night, when Ezra held her in his arms without a scrap of beskar coming between them, a pure, intimate, human connection, one that spoke of love, a love of their own, beyond either of their wildest dreams.

💜•🧡•💜

[bunjywunjy]

Bunjy since your followers (including moi) have had the revelation that horseshoe crabs have straight up feet on one of their pairs of legs may I kindly request fucked up horseshoe crab facts? like how their blood is used in some vaccines?

horseshoe crabs usually get around by scuttling around on the seafloor with their weird little bug feet, but they actually CAN swim if they need to!

by flipping themselves upside-down and moving their feet and gill coverings in a rowing motion, like a roman war galley.

sail on, brave souls!

[kckt88]

Take My Breath Away VIII

Summary:

A glimpse of the past to understand the present.

Warning(s): Death, Grief, Mourning, Language.

Word Count: 2083

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

GREENS WIN - ENEMIES TO LOVERS.

Tag List - @a-beaverhausen, @ammo23, @immyowndefender, @watercolorskyy, @toodlesxcuddles

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Vaeryna had no idea what she would face as she descended through the clouds on the back of her Cannibal.

The Velaryon blockade in the Gullet had been attacked by Triarchy ships and caught in the middle had been the ‘Gay Abandon’ the ship that was carrying her brothers Aegon and Viserys to Pentos.

It had been Jace’s idea to send their brothers to foster with the Prince of Pentos during the war to ensure their safety, but not long after their ship had left Dragonstone, the Triarchy attacked.

Jacaerys and his dragon Vermax had gone to aid the Velaryon fleet and rescue Aegon and Viserys, but he had not returned.

Vaeryna hadn't even finished reading the letter from her mother before she had mounted Cannibal and took to the sky.

The sky was filled with thick black smoke as torn sails, and burning galleys littered the surface of the water. Countless ships had been destroyed.

She had arrived to late to help, and now her brothers were missing.

Vaeryna and Cannibal searched the water of the Gullet for what seemed like an age, passing over the countless charred shipwrecks again and again, calling out Jace’s name.

Just when she was about to give up hope, Cannibal let out a low whine as he turned towards a small island outcrop.

It was barely visible through all the smoke, but Vaeryna squinted her eyes and spotted the body of Vermax resting on a distant shoreline.

Cannibal landed with ground shaking thud, and Vaeryna vaulted from his back, tripping over her own feet as she landed heavily in the sand.

“Vermax” muttered Vaeryna as she ran her hand over the dragons maw.

Cannibal lumbered forward and nudged Vermax, but the dragon was unmoved, one of his eyes had been pierced by a cross bow bolt and a grapnel was tangled around one of his hind legs.

“JACAERYS” screamed Vaeryna as she looked out over the dark rippling water.

Cannibal let out a thunderous earth-shattering roar of anger as he loomed protectively over the body of Vermax.

“J-JACE” shouted Vaeryna, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Sister”

Vaeryna whirled around and spotted her younger brother sitting next to a rocky crag, clinging to the dead body of his dragon Stormcloud.

“Aegon” exclaimed Vaeryna as she slowly approached her shaking little brother.

“Stormy is dead” wailed Aegon.

“I’m so sorry” whispered Vaeryna as she pried Aegon away from his dragon and held him in her arms.

“J-Jace saved me” muttered Aegon pressing his face into Vaeryna’s shoulder.

“Where is Jace?” asked Vaeryna as she looked around wildly.

Aegon raised a shaky hand and pointed towards the other end of the island outcrop.

“Stay with Cannibal” urged Vaeryna.

Aegon wiped his nose on his sleeve and remained on the ground. His little hands once again reaching for Stormcloud.

Vaeryna ran as fast she could and let out a scream of horror as she found Jacaerys face down in the sand.

“No, no, no” begged Vaeryna as she knelt down beside Jace and rolled him over.

There were three broken arrows lodged in his chest, and by some miracle he was still breathing.

“V-Vaeryna” gurgled Jace a trail of blood running from his mouth.

“Come on, we need to get you back to Dragonstone, to Maester Gerardys”.

“Aeg-“ rasped Jace.

“He’s ok-where’s Viserys?” asked Vaeryna.

“I-I couldn’t save him-“ wheezed Jace.

The time to grieve Viserys would have to wait until later, because right now Vaeryna had to get Jace and Aegon back to Dragonstone.

Getting Aegon on the back of Cannibal had been easy enough, but Vaeryna couldn’t lift Jace, no matter how hard she tried.

The tears of rage and frustration rolled down her face, she would not leave her husband here to die alone.

Cannibal sensing his rider’s distress, took the initiative and scooped Jace as gently as he could into his clawed foot.

“Hold him tight” urged Vaeryna as she mounted Cannibal, wrapped her arms around Aegon and gave the command to fly.

In all the time they had been bonded Cannibal had never flown so fast, sensing his riders need for haste.

They had to get back, there couldn’t be any delay. Jace needed see Maester Gerardys immediately.

Soon they were landing on Dragonstone and were surrounded by a flurry of guards.

“Take Jace to Gerardys at once” ordered Vaeryna.

“Yes, of course Princess” replied one of the guards as he hoisted Jace into his arms.

“Vaeryna” exclaimed Rhaenyra.

“Mother” gasped Vaeryna as she rushed into her mothers arms and hugged her.

“Where is Viserys?” asked Rhaenyra looking for her youngest son.

“H-He’s gone mother, he couldn’t be saved” whispered Vaeryna as she clasped her arms around her mother even tighter to prevent her from collapsing to the floor.

“A-Another of my boys lost to the sea,” cried Rhaenyra.

“Let’s get you inside” said Vaeryna as she took her mother by the hand and led her inside Dragonstone.

Vaeryna gently laid down next to Jace and placed her head on his shoulder.

Maester Gerardys had done everything he could to save Jace, but one of the arrows had pierced an artery close to his heart and there was nothing anyone one could do, and it was only a matter of time before he would succumb to his wounds.

Rhaenyra had been inconsolable at the news and had to be escorted to her own chambers, so the duty of watching over Jacaerys in his final moments had fallen to Vaeryna.

“V-Vaeryna” gasped Jace.

“I’m here” replied Vaeryna as she stroked his cheek.

“I-I’m s-sorry”.

“For what?” asked Vaeryna.

“I-I broke my promise” exclaimed Jace.

“None of that matters now” whispered Vaeryna as she placed a kiss on Jace’s forehead.

“L-Love you” wheezed Jace.

“I love you too” replied Vaeryna her eyes filling with tears.

“N-No don’t cry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me” said Jace.

“How am I supposed to live without you?” asked Vaeryna sadly.

“Y-You will find a way” said Jace a tear running down his cheek.

“I wish we had more time”.

“J-Just h-hold m-me” stuttered Jace.

Vaeryna didn’t need telling twice and after some careful manoeuvring, she enveloped Jace in her arms and held him close.

In those moments, Vaeryna could almost imagine the life they would've had - Jace's warm smile as they had a wedding in front of their family, his delight when she told him she was with child, his joy when he held his first born in his arms, his love when he held their second, and his pride when their children had their dragons.

Vaeryna could almost picture a boy with her silver hair and a girl with Jace's dark curls.

But that image began to faded away.

Soon Jace’s breathing began to slow until his chest was barely moving, Vaeryna tried to be strong, but she couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

They had only just got married, albeit in secret but still, it was theirs and theirs alone. It had been filled with so much love that it had been difficult not to consummate but Jace wanted to wait, there was still a war to be won and he would not risk his mother’s alliance with Lord Corlys as technically he was still betrothed to Baela, and of course the sea snake might see it as an insult if he ever found out.

But such things were not important now, all that mattered was Jacaerys.

Jace squeezed her hand and gave her one last weak smile before his eyes became sightless orbs staring into nothingness.

He was gone and he had taken her heart with him.

Vaeryna didn’t exactly know how long she held Jace’s body against her own, but he’d since grown cold, the warmth leaving him forever.

As much as she didn’t want to let him go, Vaeryna knew she had too, she summoned Maester Gerardys and allowed to make the necessary arrangements with the silent sisters as she went to inform her mother of Jace’s death.

Her mother looked haunted, as she stared at the wall. The tears rolling down her cheeks.

“M-My son. My first boy” wailed Rhaenyra as she rocked back and forth in front of the fireplace.

Vaeryna didn’t answer, she just sat next to her mother in silence, allowing her own grief to swallow her whole.

On the day of Jace’s funeral the still quiet air around Dragonstone was filled with the sounds of high-pitched whistling roars as Caraxes made his approach.

Her father at least had the decency to return for this, although Vaeryna was still upset with him for what she saw him doing at Harrenhal with that dark-haired green-eyed whore.

Vaeryna always believed that the type of love her parents had was the stuff of those fairytale books that she used to read as a child. All consuming, ridiculous, and downright gross at times. But then she fell in love with Jace, and she finally understood that what her parents had wasn’t so bad.

But to see her father intimately embraced with a woman who wasn’t her mother, kind of shattered the illusion of true love a little bit, because if a love like what Daemon and Rhaenyra had could be broken, then what hope was there for the rest of them.

She knew her parents had been having issues since the Blood and Cheese incident, but it was still no excuse for her father to take another woman bed.

The brazen whore-Alys she was called, was a creature of opportunity and had tried to tempt Vaeryna with her sweetened voice, whispering of prophecy and visions in the flames. But it was to no avail as Vaeryna would not listen to the incessant ramblings of a wanton ally cat with looser morals than her old cunny.

No. Today was not the time to dwell on her father’s questionable exploits it was about paying respects to Jacaerys and saying goodbye.

There so few of them left now, and in her solitude, Rhaenyra had grown paranoid for the lives of her remaining children.

So, after the funeral had been conducted and Jace’s body had been burnt by the fires of her dragon Syrax, Rhaenyra had commanded Vaeryna to take her little brother Aegon to the Vale.

It was actually Daemon who gave pause, he mused that word would soon spread about the battle of the Gullet and the losses incurred. But what if it was assumed that Aegon had also perished alongside his brothers.

He was the last male child of Rhaenyra and Daemon, and he was a risk to the Greens, what better way to ensure his continued safety than to have people think that he was dead.

Vaeryna had so far stayed out of the war at her mothers command and if she was to return to the Vale with Aegon under cloak no one would be any wiser.

Of course, Lady Jeyne would need to be informed of the situation, but it was the only way to ensure Aegon’s safety whilst the war still raged.

Rhaenyra was hesitant to agree at first, but he was the last of her sons to live and she didn’t know how she would cope if she lost him, so with a heavy heart and promise from Vaeryna, the last of the rightful Queens children were on their way to the Vale under the cover of nightfall.

Originally the plan had been to keep Aegon hidden in the Vale until the war was over.

Kings Landing had fallen to her mother and the kinslayer had fallen victim to the praying mantis at Harrenhal, at her father’s request as it turned out.

Of course, the whore had been more than happy to keep the pretty green boy company, and for all the insults Vaeryna could have levied against her, deep down she was a tiny bit impressed, Aemonds own mother had been imprisoned and yet the boy too enamoured with his bed mate had so far seemed disinclined to take his leave and return to Kings Landing to rescue her.

Her mother now sat the Iron Throne as she was always meant too, victory was within their grasp.

But then word reached the Vale of Maelor and Daeron’s deaths, then her sweet aunt Helaena had flung herself from one of the windows in Maegor’s Holdfast.

Riots were erupting all over Kings Landing and in his anger Aemond had abandoned Harrenhal, taken to the skies on Vhagar and set fire the River Lands, destroying everything and everyone in his path.

Sabitha Fey took revenge for those who had been lost during the River Lands massacre and executed Alys when she seized control of Harrenhal, of course the old witch had tried to charm her way out of the shit she was in, but Sabitha would not be moved, and with one quick swipe of her blade, Alys had lost her head.

The worst news Vaeryna received was that her mother and father were dead.

Her father had gone to challenge Aemond, the two of them had fought in the skies above the Gods Eye on the back of their dragons, and her father had perished alongside his faithful dragon Caraxes.

Vaeryna couldn’t believe it, her father was gone. He seemed so indestructible, there was nothing he couldn’t do, at one point she was convinced her father would outlive them all.

Then there was her mother, her beautiful mother who had died alongside Syrax trying to save the dragons trapped in the pit.

Dreamfyre and Morghul had managed to flee albeit injured but her mother and Syrax had not been so lucky. But to hear of it was something else, the realms delight had stared death in the face and fought bravely until the very end, killed by the people of Kings Landing who had once raised their cups in celebration of her name.

Vaeryna was inconsolable after the deaths of her parents, she locked herself in her chambers and refused to see or speak to anyone.

They were gone, her brothers, her parents. There was no one left except for her and Aegon.

The Greens celebrated their victory in Kings Landing and Vaeryna mourned in the Vale.

Vaeryna couldn’t stop thinking about the last thing her mother had said too her as they stood on the shores of Dragonstone, she had known all along about her relationship with Jacaerys, and they would have been given her blessing had he lived. But she urged Vaeryna to consider a marriage to Cregan Stark, not for loyalty or political alliance but for safety.

Lord Stark was indeed a good honourable man and Vaeryna would not only keep her promise to her mother to keep Aegon safe no matter the cost, but she would marry Stark and go North, Cannibal wouldn’t like the snow, but he would get used to it in time.

But then a letter arrived from the King and her plans changed again, she was foolish to think the Greens would leave her alone.

Obviously, they still thought that she was the last living child of Rhaenyra and Daemon, and they couldn’t risk her marrying elsewhere.

The usurper King couldn’t sire anymore children and his only living child was a girl, so it was pretty obvious what they wanted her for.

Jeyne and Cregan had been instrumental in their aide when it came to covering up Aegon’s survival, but Vaeryna knew the Greens would come eventually and when they discovered her brother was alive, he would be killed. His very existence was a threat to the Greens hold on the Iron Throne.

Even in death her mother still had supporters and Vaeryna wouldn’t have her brother being used as some figurehead to start another war.

Cregan offered to take Aegon to Winterfell, he was of an age where he could be passed off as his son. Obviously, the hair would need to be covered but it was the only thing that made any sense, of course running away to Essos had it’s merits but how soon before they were discovered.

At least if Vaeryna sold herself to the Greens, she would be close enough to hear of any whispers surrounding her brother should they receive word of his survival. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Vaeryna had to harden her heart and strengthen her resolve as she was about to enter the den of green snakes.

She would do her duty and lay with the kinslayer, she would bear his children and one day her son would be King, the blood of her mother and father would sit the Iron Throne. Her son would carry their legacy within him.

Informing Aegon of what was going to happen had been difficult, the boy had screamed and cried for days.

He was so young, but he had to know, he had to understand that all of this was for him, to keep him safe.

Cregan had been worth his salt in that regard as well, and after spending the day with the wolf, Aegon begrudgingly accepted his fate.

Jeyne wasn’t too happy with what Vaeryna was willing to sacrifice but she had no choice but to accept it. Vaeryna’s mind was made up.

She would go to Kings Landing and do her duty. Of course, if they were under the expectation that she would be meek and submissive, they were sadly mistaken.

Those green cunts clearly had no idea what they were letting themselves in for. Vaeryna was the daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon, rider of the Cannibal and she was ready.

[strige-art]

Nothing, you'll have to excuse me, I'm still in an acute fangirl phase.

Rebels really hurt me!!!

Filoni, a hint: Ezra has been camping in Wild Space for years.

Let's say he found another Jedi temple connected to the World Among the Worlds and devised a way to pull his master out of that damned explosion without causing the end of the galaxy? Yes?

I mean, that makes more sense than Maul's resurrection or why Boba Fett wasn't digested by the Sarlac!

Pretty please? *_*

Star Wars Rebels digital fanart.

Hera and Kanan, pre Rebels, in the Ghost galley, just woken up.

Kanan is leaning against the kitchen counter, wearing only his sleeping trousers and his hair down.

He draws Hera to him, who has her back to him, and is about to place a kiss on her bare shoulder.

Hera is wearing only her underwear and one of Kanan's shirts. In her right hand she holds a mug of Caf and around her wrist is Kanan's lace.

Kanan's mug, meanwhile, is resting on the shelf in the foreground.

[haravath0t]

||𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰:

ℜ𝔢𝔵 ℑ𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔤𝔫𝔦𝔱𝔬 ||

𝚣𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒊𝒌𝒂𝒏𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑨𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒂𝒓 - 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝟽

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 : ̗̀➛ a spin off of the tale of the lone glaze lily; zhongli is taking another walk around liyue, recalling the voice of his goddess. it is only when you come with him to dinner that he cannot shake off the sight of his late songbird.

☕🤍🌿 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚊𝚗'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 ! 𝚒𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚋𝚛𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 ! ☕🤍🌿

He couldn’t believe it, his heartstrings were being pulled as you sang away at the Pearl Galley. Everyone’s eyes, including the former archon, were on you. It is only when your director had introduced you to this famed consultant that you two had seemed to hit it off right away. Zhongli and you had a connection that had grown with ease, grown like a blooming flower. He was as knowledgeable as all have said, and he was a fantastic listener. You always thought it was so embarrassing, feeling sometimes like you were talking for way too long before he reassures you with a “No, please. I’m listening.” He always had a soft smile on his face as he listened to you. It was clear he’s grown fond of you as you have grown fond of him, caring for you like you care for him.

But you didn’t know what has always run through his mind after being with him for a year, knowing him for three. He noted how your voice was similar to her, that your eyes, your smile, you laugh…it was all pointing back to her. As you walked alongside Zhongli through the harbor, watching the Xiao lanterns rise in the sky and blend with the stars above, he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Tears formed in his eyes as you smiled with glee, the childlike look of content that had burst from your own mortal being only reminded him of the very same glee she had expressed to the Liyue of the past. It was then that he had realized:

She is you. You are her. His songbird.

The very epiphany hits him like a rock, undeniably worse than the stones he has hurled during the war, seeing you now eagerly sit at Third Round Knockout beside him rather than across, wanting to hug his arm as you two await the food that is to come.

“You’re quite eager,” Zhongli notes with a smile, chuckling a bit as your head is seen nuzzling against his coat for warmth.

“I think I have every reason to, right?” You tease with a grin, your eyes meeting his own. You cannot help but note the tears on his eyes, those beautiful amber orbs that always seemed to show how much you shined to him, as though you were as golden as Mora.

“You do,” he finally concedes, finding himself unusually bashful at how intimate this felt. An intimacy he has not felt for centuries, has now returned, and in what better way than you? He couldn’t find anything else to say, his heart feels like it’s being squished, but before he exerts even more effort, you stop him, gently playing with the tresses of his brown hair. “I have been blessed,” Zhongli whispers, as though in an exhale of relief. There it was, your touch. Though memories of what you looked like began to erode in his mind as hard as he tries to cling to it, the very touch, the very love you have given him as Morax, has now cracked through the erosion of time, as though it had been brought back to its prime.

“Oh, my dear.” He whispers quietly into your head, a volume that only indicated that it was meant for your ears. You cannot help but smile even more, grinning ear to ear as he held your waist now, as though in a desperate grasp.

“You little sap, you’re going to make me cry too!” You whisper, laughing a bit as you indulge in his embrace, loving the warm that he has brought to you, body and mind.

You have taken his breath away. Your touch, your confidence, your care, your smile. Oh, how it all relieves him. It has become his first impactful experience as a mortal, feeling as though he was the one being blessed rather than the one giving the blessings himself. It had felt as though fate has allowed him a second chance, a chance at love and a chance at achieving the peace he has long craved.

With you, his Songbird.