#galaxies thrive and die

[fishing-lesbian-catgirl]

And for our next stop on this spacefolding tour of the galaxy, we have a fascinating terrestrial planet to show you. If you look through your viewing ports you will see the blue and green planet third from their star known as “soil” or “dirt”. Its surface is primarily made up on vast oceans and several large continents. Its distance from its star create the perfect environment for complicated climate systems that allow countless biomes of highly adapted species to survive.

Its primary intelligent inhabitants are a primitive social species of omnivores that use their large numbers to create structures and societies that are enormous compared to their body size. They have adapted ways to live and thrive on almost all of the landmasses through their many different harsh biomes. They even domesticate other animals to provide sources of food and other goods. Their social structures vary from colony to colony, but frequently involve rulers who alone bear the future of their society’s future.

Unfortunately, our studies on these creatures predict that they will likely never reach the intergalactic stage of development, as they have spent their entire species existence fighting endless wars with each other. Unending violence on an unfathomable scale has been ongoing for as long as anyone can tell, often over petty things like resources and the whims of their monarchs and rulers. Violence is so core to their species that they have adapted and honed countless weapons and tactics over generations upon generations of them who have been raised only to fight and die in battle after battle like their mothers before them.

This fascinating species is known as “ants”

#Delia original #🐜

[stinalotte]

Happy 19th Birthday, Stargate Atlantis!

On July 16th, 2004, the pilot aired. Here's a handy little primer for anyone who doesn't know what the heckity heck this show is about. Everything is totally accurate, 100% true and very, very serious.

So.

This is the lost city of the Ancients, Atlantis, in the Pegasus galaxy, about 3 million light years from Earth. (The Ancients can go fuck themselves. Long story.) Atlantis is a city/spaceship approximately the size of Manhattan. She's semi-sentient, but not really, except actually yes, maybe, sometimes, totally. The whole city can go underwater or into hyperspace. Loves her humans. Home. Declaration of independence imminent.

The Atlantis expedition consists of civilians and military from at least 34 countries (in later seasons, the original expedition was just over a dozen). In no particular order:

Dr. Elizabeth Weir. The first leader of the expedition. The only adult. Sometimes. Okay, not very often. Is not above a little war crime for the good of the galaxy—or at least, for the good of Atlantis. Left a boyfriend and a dog on Earth, but we all miss the dog more than the boyfriend. Eats UN representatives for breakfast. Is terribly awkward on dates and really good at solitaire. Loves her chaos children. Which are:

Lt. Colonel Suicide Mission John Sheppard. Walked through the Gate and Atlantis said, "dibs". Thinks people who don't want to fly are crazy. Not good with emotional stuff. (He's getting better.) Loves his found space family and would die for them, often literally. Stop that. Also loves Ferris wheels, things that go fast, and Rodney McKay. And no, we don't know how he gets his hair to go like that.

Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay. Four degrees, two of which are PhDs, none of which are in social skills. Smartest man in two galaxies. Used to be an asshole, but got himself some friends who loved him such a stupid amount that he had no choice but to change. Still a work in progress. We love to see it. Blew up three quarters five sixths of a solar system. (It was uninhabited.) (Mostly.) Deathly allergic to citrus. Loves fully charged ZPMs, arguing with Dr. Zelenka, MREs, and John Sheppard.

Lieutenant Aiden Ford. Went ass first through the Gate with a grin and a whoop on his very first trip. One of the youngest members of the expedition. Is not allowed to name anything, ever. Mild case of hero worship when it comes to his commanding officer, which is totally understandable. A cautionary tale of how addiction messes up not only you, but the people around you.

Ronon Dex. Used to be hunted by the Wraith, lost his people in a terrible war, and is now a member of Sheppard's team where he gets to shoot things and beat up bad guys. Doesn't talk much, but when he does, he has something to say. Good friend. Excellent hugs, but have Carson check you out for any cracked ribs after. Is one bottle of Athosian wine away from staging an intervention regarding the Sheppard/McKay situation.

Teyla Emmagan. In possession of the team's one brain cell. Leader of the Athosian people. Will rock a baby to sleep and then go outside where a Wraith is dangling from the highest tower of the city and stomp on his hands until he falls 800 feet. Can either beat you up in the gym or force you to meditate on your problem, your choice. Has the aforementioned bottle of wine ready and loaded.

Dr. Radek Zelenka. Keeps the science team sane because Rodney sure as hell doesn't. Loves pigeons, cursing in Czech, and overseeing the thriving black market underground economy that has developed in the city. (Thanks @shaddyr for that lovely headcanon). Zachránil všechny naše zadky víc než jednou.

Chuck the Technician. Aggressively Canadian. Doesn't have a last name, doesn't need one. Is ALWAYS in the control room, seriously man, when do you sleep? Reads trashy sci fi novels on night shifts and organized a betting pool in 5 different currencies when Ronon was fighting Teal'c. Needs to share his eyelash routine because we're jealous.

Dr. Carson Beckett. The most Scottish Scot to ever Scot. Brilliant medical doctor who is not above the occasional unethical unorthodox treatment method. Sweet cinnamon roll of a man. Beloved by all. Loves his mom and wee baby turtles. Someone should take him fishing soon. 🥹

Colonel Samantha Carter. Member of SG-1. Legend. Awesome. Boss. Absolute BAMF. Punched a Goa'uld system lord in the face once. We all have a crush on her.

Dr. Jennifer Keller. Is very doctor-y, for better and for worse. Was all of us when she freaked out being on an alien planet for the first time, like a normal person would. Should totally have gone on a date with Captain Vega in that one deleted scene. [WE COULD HAVE HAD IT AAAAALL]

Jeannie Miller. Rodney's sister. Gave up a career in science to be a mom. Solved Rodney's math problem in her spare time, with finger paints. Loves her brother even when he's being an idiot. Fanfic canon says: her house is always open for him and certain Air Force Colonels to crash in. Don't you dare get a hotel room. Yes, the guest room has Only One Bed, Mer, what's your point?

Major Evan Lorne. If you are a moron and get yourself captured and imprisoned off world, he will swing by real quick with a couple Marines and bust you out. Co-parents Atlantis with Dr. Weir. Is actually a really talented painter. Needs a raise, a holiday, and a drink.

Colonel Steven Caldwell. Grumpy. Has to deal with Elizabeth's chaos children on a regular basis. Will make the enemy ship go away with a big boom and save your sorry ass in space. AGAIN.

Richard Woolsey. Used to be a New York City lawyer, one of the most ruthless creatures in the universe. His wife got the Yorkie in the divorce. Broke his heart. Is actually pretty cool if you let him do his thing (like get you out of an intergalactic war crimes trial by bribing the judges).

I know some characters and all the villains are missing, but this post is already longer than a trip on the Daedalus, so there you have it.

Stargate Atlantis. A show about wormholes, life-sucking aliens, ancient civilisations, space battles—and family, friendship, allowing yourself to love and be loved, and what it means to be home.

Happy birthday, fam.

#stargate atlantis #happy birthday #sga #found space family #elizabeth weir #john sheppard #rodney mckay #teyla emmagan #ronon dex #aiden ford #samantha carter #look I can't name them all

[intermundia]

something lovely i discovered while planning the story of the redemption of one damaged man, is that it turned into telling the story of an entire community that absorbs and guides that individual as he grows towards the light—he couldn’t do it alone, doing it alone is not the point; his growth is predicated on improved relationships with everyone around him and improved moral behavior with a positive impact on the galaxy. everyone who listens to him, assists and corrects him, all participate in the better man that he becomes, so his redemption is everyone’s story, not just his own. i think this is the fundamental difference between the religious concept of redemption and the concept of redemption as applied in a framework of secular ethics.

star wars the films offer the spiritual and religious redemption in vader's final act of selflessness and return to the light, but i'm not entirely satisfied by that—i want to see him develop into a better man. i want to see him experience and embody his redemption, which was always the genesis of the narrative of time travel after death. you can merely die as an individual for religious redemption, you have to live as a person for the secular kind, and nobody builds a life alone; we are inherently contextual creatures, and so becoming a compassionate and giving member of society radiates out into the surrounding spiderweb of strengthened bonds, and makes an entire community thrive instead of wither and break apart. it was just lovely to see the story of anakin's lived redemption ended up demonstrating lucas's ethical directive of symbiosis in a way that the films never really did.

#just had a Moment thinking abt this last night #anakin could not do it alone yk #fanfic stuff #wd #anakin skywalker #sw

[jpitha]

Do you know how hard it is to have an inter-colony war?

How difficult it is to maintain a front that is light years away? To fight with people you have never met for reasons you barely understand? To go and die under a strange sun on a strange world at the order of someone who doesn't have to go and die?

The humans do.

Long, long before we met, they had already established colonies on other worlds with their enormous colony ships. Streaking between the stars at half the speed of light, it took them decades to reach their new homes.

Once there, they began the grueling work of building a new home for humanity.

12 ships were launched, 1 was destroyed, 2 were lost. The remaining 9 founded 3 colonies: Parvati, New Wellington, and Méihuā. Including Earth, there were 4 worlds humans found where they could grow and thrive.

So why, when asked today most humans say they are from Earth or Parvati or very rarely Méihuā?

New Wellington was destroyed. Not in an accident, or in some natural disaster, but destroyed by the hand of man.

Soon after the development of the wormhole generators, the colonies started trading with each other. The suddenly short distances between them meant that they could open their borders and learn to get along in a suddenly much smaller galaxy.

Some friction was inevitable.

If you ask someone from Parvati, New Wellington started it. New Wellington isn't around to ask anymore, but I found some people who had family ties on Méihuā and they say that they both started it. The reasons behind the war have been mostly lost, but it was supposedly over trading rights with Earth.

The war was brutal, and long. Both sides fielded massive dreadnoughts that were bristling with weapons, and would link into the others system and attack, and then link away. Both tried to avoid pitched battle due to the risk of being stranded in the other's system.

Unbeknownst to the people of New Wellington however, Parvati had an ace up their sleeves. Soon after war was declared, they had launched a dozen multi-ton lozenges of tungsten towards New Wellington, using drive designs copied from their colony ship. Without anyone onboard, they accelerated at extremely high gees, and were able to reach nearly 80% of the speed of light.

They also had no intention of braking before entering the New Wellington system.

One day, about 3 years after the war started, the relativistic kinetic weapons flashed in system and struck New Wellington.

In one premeditated shot, the colony was almost completely destroyed.

Earth and Méihuā were horrified. Méihuā cut contact with Parvati completely and Earth put them under very tight sanctions. Parvati claimed that it was just a part of war, and was used to insure a rapid resolution to the conflict.

The Red Cross and Red Crescent linked in-system the moment they heard of the catastrophe and took the survivors back to Earth. New Wellington was abandoned and left as a memorial.

It took decades for Parvati to admit that what they did was wrong, and even longer for them to agree to reparations for the survivors. By then, there were very few people left who could honestly claim to have been born on New Wellington.

Méihuā still has very chilly relations with Parvati. They blame them for the attack and do not feel the apologies have been sufficient. as a result of this self-imposed isolation, Méihuā is a very insular colony and their residents keep to themselves.

The humans tell us that they do not fight and war among themselves anymore. They tell us that through hard won lessons, they know to come together and discuss issues instead of linking in with dreadnoughts and destroyers.

They still keep their dreadnoughts and destroyers however. They are still out there, being maintained, being used for practice.

The humans say they don't make war anymore, but I for one am not so sure.

I once asked a Xenni acquaintance what they thought of the humans saying they don't make war anymore. Their reply was "when once reaches the tallest peak on a planet, there is no more need to climb."

They may have stopped because they are very good at it.

#humans are warriors #humans are deathworlders #humans are space orcs #humans are space capybaras #humans are space australians #humans are space New Zealanders #sci fi writing #writing #worldbuilding

[deathmetalunicorn1]

A god killing black kitty, seem to be perfect fit for a cat speaking as a cat mom myself

How would human fighters be when they learn to hat they love cats the most when they went on any worlds for her trip, their real form is too mind breaking even gods can't comprehend of what they are

They seem chill with the four sage due to them to be more interesting then seeing worlds die and replace times over to the point that they act liked a cat around them sometimes

-At first, you were just a void, a being made of darkness and energy, holding a conscience of your very own.

-Your true form, if ever seen by another with a conscience, your form was said to be so horrifying they immediately went mad and their very being imploded from the inside.

-So if you visited other worlds, you always took on an unassuming form of something native to the land, so you could travel and inspect these worlds without risking any unnecessary lives.

-When you transformed, your appearance was always pitch black, much like a void, with glowing orange eyes

-When you found the Milky Way Galaxy, the third planet from the sun was the only one that held life, so you took on the form of one of the creatures on Earth, a cat.

-Humans came to adore what you looked like, calling you a Persian, a breed of cat, and you found their affections and attention pleasant, unlike many of the other worlds you have visited.

-You were able to sense those with much more power, gods, being of great power themselves, but none could hold a candle to your immense power.

-Your fight with Eris had been a quick one, you had been quite disappointed as all of the gods had bragged, before they knew who you truly were, on how powerful they were and how none could stand against them.

-You enjoyed this section of this world, Valhalla, more than you did down on Earth, finding it beautiful and full of wise and interesting people.

-Throughout your long life, you had seen cultures grow and fade, empires rise and fall, but this world, even though these things have also happened, humanity and the gods continued to thrive, learning from the past and taking civilization to new heights each and every day.

-Once your power was known through Valhalla, there were many who were scared of you, but some didn’t seem bothered in the least.

-Goll had thought you were a normal kitty, picking you up and taking you to a quiet room where she provided you with a pillow, so she could just stroke you, finding you soft.

-Sasaki Kojiro was very relaxing to be around, you found his lap most comfortable, curling up on it, he wasn’t bothered, thinking that you were just a normal cat and provided you with something called ‘salmon nigiri’. It was delicious.

-Ares had picked you up, holding you up under your front legs, letting the rest of you dangle down, “What’s a cat doing here?”

-You open your mouth and without moving again, your voice manifested, surrounded the two of you, “What are any of us doing here?” he froze in shock, turning to stone and you hopped down to continue your journey.

-You found solstice with a group of men called the Four Sages, Confucius, Socrates, Jesus, and Buddha, who all seemed to vibe with you.

-They knew of your immense power, but you seemed to be content as a cat, curling up on Buddha’s lap, basking in the warm sunshine of his garden.

-Many of the other gods were still afraid of you, of your power, but you just trotted around, finding those you liked, like Kojiro, to nap with or get snacks from, and you found amusement freaking others out, like Ares.

-He had found you and demanded you speak to Zeus who knew it was you, but he couldn’t help but laugh when you just meowed, like you were a normal cat.

-Once Zeus left, you opened your maw again, “They will never believe you.”

-You were able to keep this prank going on Ares for almost two full weeks and he pouted once you were outed, saying that you were cruel, but you curled up on his lap, apologizing but did speak once more, “When you react with such shock, it is quite funny.”

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror sasaki kojiro #ror ares #ror zeus #ror four sages #ror buddha

[tatooineknights]

Day 6: RECORDING

Luke Skywalker waited with trepidation as he held a holodisc in his hand, squeezing it gently as he looked around the empty room. The weight of his burden had slowly began to crush against his lean frame, pressing down with an intensity that began to make him feel physically ill as he thought about all that he must do.

Restarting an order.. living up to the legends that came before him..

It was as if witnessing a ghost before him as he inserted the holodisc and saw the visage of his father, Anakin Skywalker, towering over him. A scar ran from his right temple down to the cheek, a harsh blemish on an otherwise soft face. He was dressed like a proper soldier- no, a general. Before him was the man from his dreams, the great hero he had long to meet ever since he was a boy; once thought of as a navigator on a spice freighter, to Jedi Knight, to a Jedi turned Sith. The story and truth always shifted but this image was always there, as fuel to his own personal motivations. To see it as truth was a great relief on the youth's mind. Luke's blue eyes marveled as he stared at the holographic image, a memento given to him by a former Jedi named Ahsoka Tano.

"You will be a great Jedi one day," Anakin Skywalker said with a smile.

Even though this message was not meant for him, Luke couldn't help but look up with awe. He was less a great hero that destroyed the Death Star, the brave warrior that went face to face with the greatest villains the galaxy would ever know, and moreso a lost boy looking upon the praise of the father he only briefly knew.

The recording was paused and Luke walked up to the hologram, noting the differences between himself and his father. The date on the capture confirmed that Anakin would have been almost the exact same age as Luke was now and his smooth features on his face and commanding tenor reflected that. But there was something deeper: eyes that seemed to know pain all his life, a proud stance of a natural leader that instantly captured the room, and an internal desire for acceptance and recognition.

Luke had become a leader over the years but there was a tentativeness to him that he didn't see within his father, as if it were a responsibility forced upon him and he had a natural willingness to please and uphold what was left. His own stance wasn't so proud, but open and inviting, still somewhat assured.

"Incredible," Luke whispered to himself.

There was a whole series of holodiscs to choose from, taking place throughout the entirety of The Clone Wars. For some reason, Anakin seemed to thrive in this setting. Mentions of a Count Dooku, a General Grievous, Ben Kenobi, even Yoda were common. It made those twenty-three someodd years feel like a lifetime ago, of a legend that only existed in fragments like these hologram recordings.

Now, Luke was given the task of restarting that legend.

It had to be done or all this would die with him. The galaxy had been saved but future threats would come and someone would have to answer them, one day, at least. The threat was cyclical: darkness would rise in times of peace and the light had to answer it. Luke had to be ready - but how? What did he have? He was still a young man, with no one else to call on for guidance.

Yoda told him he had all that he needed.. but there had to be more. Luke planned on traveling throughout the known galaxy in search of answers; of artefacts, holocrons, legends. Watching his father smiling back at him was equally as overwhelming as it was incredible.

How could he measure up?

But with a shake of his head, Luke went back to the last message.

"You will be a great Jedi one day," Anakin said to him. There was a finality to it that made Luke certain of his destiny, regardless of how ready he personally thought himself to be. He deactivated the holodisc and gave himself a steady breath. The weight would just have to be his burden to bear; for the Jedi, for his father, for himself.

#luke skywalker #star wars #whumptober2023 #no.6 #recording #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin skywalker

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 7.

Styx wasn’t what Stardust had expected.

When they’d envisioned a lawless trading outpost adrift beyond the charted edge of space, they’d imagined thriving debauchery—red light districts, fruit bars, and endless stalls of unregulated goods.

Walking the plaza of the repurposed military station, they realized their imaginings had been more in line with Cache, the largest casino in the galaxy, which was laughable because there was nothing outwardly illegal about Cache.

Styx wasn’t really lawless either. Stardust spotted the cameras along the corridors funneling off the plaza down the long arms for parking ships and the entrances to residential districts. People lived here. The shops weren’t just fun fronts for the amusement of travelers, they were businesses cultivated and run by real people. There were kids—families. Had they fled to the edge to escape the solar court? To escape justice or debt? Or had they been born out here?

Stardust winced at the sight of a small child laughing and running circles around a parent’s legs.

There were stories about the dangers of having kids outside the SC and Eaton. Slaving wasn’t legal in any of the governing bodies of space…but unregistered people off world weren’t really the problem of any of those governing bodies. As long as no one brought them home, no law in the stars would bat an eye. They called it wreckage. They called them wreckage.

Stardust stole glances into the shops, trying to look like they’d been there before and weren’t gawking at everything new and different from the prime. They’d been born and raised in the center of the galaxy, on worlds that became stranger and stranger in contrast to the places they had seen in the months since fleeing for their life. What they knew of the worlds and stations beyond the prime quad had been learned from classrooms and soap operas.

Everyone loved a good trashy story about one of their own being stranded or tricked into the deep where they found themselves at the whim of an incredibly attractive brute.

That was not the reality—not that Stardust had been looking for it. The pirates had been assholes, barely more than idiot children with a language of violence, and Cosmic…

Cosmic wasn’t what they had expected to find in the deep either.

Stardust scrubbed a hand over their face, trying not to think about him taped to the chair back on his ship. He was fine. He wasn’t going to die just because they left him sitting there for a while. They’d find a new ship—a way back on course—and he’d be fine.

First, they needed to access their accounts.

They finally spotted a café full of screens, some people laid out in chairs with visors on, cables in their necks, or just light swirling in their irises as their minds drifted far away. Others sat at consoles, fingers dancing over lightboards or keyboards.

The disconnection of their optic implant this far from charted space had been jarring at first, the quiet of not getting constant messages, updates, notifications, and calls was disconcerting. They’d never felt alone like this before. They could still use the apps: vision upgrades, language translators, and files of images and recordings. They’d spent a lot of their time in the cramped cargo hold of that pirate vessel rewatching episodes of their favorite drama and playing endless rounds of mahjong solitaire.

They found an available console and sat down.

A synthetic leaning behind the café counter eyed them, light strobing across his cheek, like lightning under his skin. Their console turned on, offering them access for four minutes to start a tab before it would be shut off.

They tapped keys, syncing their implant and sighing with relief when the whole universe seemed to come into reach again. Paying the tab was not a problem. They put in an order for a coffee and a strawberry bun and then started sifting through their mail.

They had dozens of messages from Genesis, pretending to be worried about them—wanting to know where they had gone and promising to help protect them from the other cousins. It was a lie, of course. Genesis was a silver-tongued monster. Did he think they didn’t know? They weren’t some stranger who hadn’t seen the bloodshed of his games.

Tansy, on the other hand, hadn’t felt the need to lie. She was hunting Stardust and had sent just one message, offering to let them live when it was done if they surrendered.

Stardust was a poor excuse for a Solinoh, but they still wouldn’t surrender. It wasn’t in their blood to yield, and it was an insult that Tansy had even suggested it.

They grabbed one of the blank plastic cards from a stack to the side and placed it on the keypad, moving money from an account onto it. It would have to do for now. They’d considered getting a long-range upgrade for their implant, but weren’t sure if their cousins could track them by it if they did. Their family had a skill for acquiring inventors and new tech. Maybe it was better to stay low for a while?

They were about to place a call when a figure stepped up beside them, just inside their little space of imagined privacy. A large, clear, glass nestled onto a saucer was placed beside their keyboard. The foam atop the cappuccino bulged, stretching the limits of physics by not spilling over. No hand but a synthetic one could have carried it without disrupting it. Stardust doubted they’d be able to lift it for a sip without making a mess.

The barista waited.

Stardust cocked their head back to look up at him. They’d expected charm and flirtation on that artificial, perfect face now that they’d started a tab and clearly had the funds for it. That was how synthetics had worked the last time they’d seen any in the prime. They’d been big smiles or politely lowered heads.

The synthetic looked just as unimpressed as he had behind the bar. He hadn’t lowered his head to look down at them where they sat either, he’d just shifted those starless black eyes down the slope of his cheeks.

Stardust flushed, reminded why there were no more synthetics in the prime. It had been cycles since the wars, but those wars had been almost a decade of fighting and dying across the solar court… outside the prime, of course. When word of synthetics turning on their creators spread, when those first acts of revolt stained the prime worlds, the golden center of the galaxy had done what it always did—protect itself from all others.

It seemed like overnight, all the synthetics in the prime had disappeared.

Stardust remembered it with discomfort, especially under those manmade eyes. Could he see it on them? Their family and friends had been upset in those first years of the Synthetic Wars because of the trouble it had caused them. They had to let lower-class humans back into the prime, back into their homes and onto their ships, to do all the jobs the synthetics had been doing before them. The consolation had been that it was cheaper to pay a human than it had cost to buy the synth.

Stardust suddenly wasn’t hungry anymore.

Another strobe of light shimmered under the skin of his face and this time Stardust was at an angle to see those pastel colors reflected in the blacks of his eyes—creating stars in that night.

As though he saw it—saw how their stomach had turned—he placed the second plate with the strawberry bun beside their coffee. The dishes bumped and the coffee overflowed the edge, pooling in the saucer. His mouth twitched with a smile and Stardust tried not to marvel at it—at him. It had been so long since they’d seen a synthetic that they’d somehow forgotten how incredibly real their design had become. It was beyond uncanny valley and onto something else. It wasn’t just perfection, it was better than that. There was a quirk to his smile and a menace to the beauty of his face.

It seemed humans had done what they always did. They made things better than themselves and lost control of it.

Looking at a synthetic didn’t feel like looking at something that wasn’t quite human… it felt like looking at something humans wanted to become.

“You’re going to get yourself killed if you stay here too long,” he said, a drawl to his deep voice that rolled under the hum of music and keystrokes in the room.

Stardust didn’t look away, pitching an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me?”

His smirk remained. “Don’t tempt me, Solinoh.”

Stardust’s stomach lurched, suddenly realizing he was between them and the exit. Did it matter? They couldn’t outrun him if they tried. Maybe if they hit him with something…

The synthetic scoffed. “Handle your business and go. I don’t want to see you in here again. I don’t need you dying in my place.”

His place?

Heat rushed their face. They’d just assumed he worked there. No, that wasn’t true. They’d assumed he belonged to the building or to the owner.

Fuck.

He nodded like he knew it, that gaze flicking over them again. “And when you’re done here, go to the catwalk and get some better clothes. Your mortal ass isn’t long for this world and even I’d be disappointed to see you die in sweatpants.”

Stardust wasn’t sure if that was a joke or just the truth, either way, they nodded in agreement.

Light strobed across his cheek and his expression changed. They caught the start of a true smile when he turned toward the opening to greet a trio of synthetics.

Stardust forced their gaze down to the coffee on their table, refusing to gawk at these people. He was right, though, if they were that easily identified by synthetics, they needed to get moving.

They placed a call while they were still connected. The camera on the screen lit up to film them but when the call connected, the scene they watched was in their implant only, projected like a screen but only for their eyes.

Cornelius answered on the first ring, a sign that Stardust had truly rattled their friend because Cor never answered on the first ring as a rule. They were lucky if he answered at all.

“You’re alive!” Cor whisper-yelled, hurrying to get someplace private. Strings of diamonds swayed and tangled from the circlet around his head, the front strands framing his cheeks while others stretched the length of his neck, gleaming against smooth dark skin. The background sounds were warped, automatically filtered out by his implant. “Where are you? Your family has been crawling all over me looking for you. I mean, I don’t mind some of them crawling all over me…”

Stardust exhaled hard, feeling the first real sense of relief since the pirates targeted their ship days ago.

Cornelius got someplace where he could talk because he really looked at them now, expression growing uncharacteristically serious. “What happened to you? Where… Did Genesis find you?” He whispered the name like a curse.

Stardust shook their head, clawing an unruly lock of hair behind their ear. They tongued the glued scab on their lip. They didn’t look half as bad as they had yesterday, but looking at Cor and remembering their life just months ago, they imagined it had to be a horror to see them now. “One of those assholes put a bounty on me,” they whispered. “Some pirates wrecked my jet and grabbed me—” They choked up and stopped, surprising themselves with a well of emotion they hadn’t even realized was there.

Cornelius nodded. “Where are you? I’ll send someone.”

Stardust wished it was that simple. “I’m past the edge.”

He stared, the strands of diamonds settling around his jaw and neck. “You… You really went out there? Everyone is saying you ran away or were kidnapped but… You’re really going?”

“What choice do I have?”

“Come back! We’ll hide out on Lu-Pan. Between the two of us, we can buy up half the islands and amass a little army.”

Stardust ached for that option. Lu-Pan was familiar, but it wasn’t safe. There was nowhere safe from their family. “I just wanted to check in. I’m alive.”

Cornelius frowned and Stardust realized how rarely they’d ever seen their best friend frown. They’d been together since they were toddlers. There was no one else Stardust trusted or loved more, which was exactly why they couldn’t run to him. “Where are you?” he asked again.

“I’ll check in again when I can.”

“Star—”

Hanging up physically hurt. It surprised them, making them swallow twice and look up to keep the gathering of tears from falling. After a couple quick breaths, they paid their tab and disconnected. Pocketing the plastic cash card they’d been clutching, Stardust realized they hadn’t touched their food. They almost left it, but their stomach growled in protest.

They compromised and picked up the bun on their way out.

Walking to the exit took them right past the three synthetics at the bar talking to the owner.

It was impossible not to feel the air shift and those immortal eyes turn on them, running over them from head to toe. One, a giant, grinned with a flash of metal-tipped fangs. “It’s a shame… I would have liked throwing a Solinoh in my cargo hold,” he said just loud enough for Stardust to hear even though the words were directed at his friends.

One of the others, wearing a body that appeared to be entirely made of gold and glass, waved a delicate hand through the air as if taking in the complications of fate. “Don’t hold your breath. No one but a Solinoh would put a bounty on a Solinoh, and there are just some people not even we’ll work for…”

 Stardust kept walking, bun in hand, until they were out of the café. They turned a hard right and wove into the crowd, finally taking a big bite.

They needed to get out of there…but they also needed to get a change of clothes. They followed the signs for The Catwalk.

The synthetic café owner wasn’t wrong. This was not an outfit worthy of dying in.

#to the edge #defying gravity #sci fi romance #adventures of stardust and cosmic #audio script to novel #own work #ride or die in space #<3 #dominimoonbeam #clover down

[jessicas-pi]

This Is Getting Out of Hand Now There Are Two of ALL of Them or How to Train Your Mythosaur for the wip ask game please

This Is Getting Out of Hand Now There Are Two of ALL of Them (formerly titled *weird al intensifies* as a reference to his song I Think I'm A Clone Now) is an AU where the entire Ghost crew gets sent back in time to pivotal points in their past selves' lives!

Hera goes back to when her mother died.

Kanan goes back to Order 66 on Kaller.

Ezra goes back to when his parents were taken.

Sabine goes back to when she was left for dead.

Zeb goes back to the aftermath of Lasan.

Chopper does not go back in time because the galaxy could not survive two of him.

They all take on new names (that are sly references on my part to the things they were named after--e.g. Hera takes on the name Juno--tragically i have not figured out one for Zeb as i have no idea what he was named after, if he was named after anything) and adopt their past selves in one way or another. Emotional reunions abound as they all reunite with each other once more.

(Also, Hera was still pregnant with Jacen when she went back in time, so Jacen is there too! He's around the same age as past!Sabine and past!Ezra. Jacen knows about the time travel.)

They do not tell their past selves that they are them from the future. Past!Kanan figured it out because of their Force-presences, past!Hera caught on when future!Hera and future!Kanan reunited, and past!Zeb eventally caught on, but past!Ezra and past!Sabine are entirely clueless.

there's also a lot of matchmaking shenanigans. Future!Hera and future!Kanan are trying to set their past selves up together. Past!Sabine is certain that if only she can get her "cousin" and Ezra's "older brother" to 'fess up to their feelings and tie the knot, she can aggressively family-zone past!Ezra and he'll get over his crush (and therefore also get over his jealousy-fueled beef with Jacen, who is very aware of the irony of the situation but keeps his mouth shut and plays along because he thrives on chaos.) Future!Zeb and past!Zeb commiserate over the ridiculous nonsense of it all but still sometimes team up to lock past!Kanan and past!Hera in a closet together. it doesn't work. it never works.

(Unbeknownst to everyone, past!Kanan and past!Hera are actually already a couple and are just keeping it secret to mess with everyone.)

Chaos abounds. Things are fixed. Neither of the Kanans die. There is no purrgilling. All is happily ever after.

The End

#thank you for the ask!!! :D #jessica's writing nonsense #sabezra #kanera

[queen-of-the-avengers]

CATFA: Part One

Pairing: Ikaris x Female!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.2k

Warnings: canon violence, language, and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Earth is nothing like you expected it to be. There are a lot of planets in your home galaxy that can support life as well as millions of other planets in other galaxies around yours. Still, you never expected Earth to be so similar to your home planet, Xenia--a thriving ecosystem, corrupt governments, billions of people, and large bodies of water that cover most of the planet.

The only difference is that your planet is home to one of, if not the evilest man your galaxy has ever seen. Xenia became a breaking ground for bad ideas, and they all point to the one who made you: Markus Hottle.

To most, you look like you're in your late twenties or early thirties, but you're much older than that. You've just had your one-hundredth birthday, and you know you've got a lot more to go through before you die. What Markus did to you caused you to nearly stop aging; just another side effect of his experiments.

It's why you fled your planet and have been on the run ever since. You've spent fifty years jumping from planet to planet, always avoiding Markus when he sent his goons to chase after you. You've been running for so long that you don't know what a home is anymore.

Yours was destroyed the second Markus had your parents killed.

Will Earth be different?

Xenia has always thrived on the creativity and knowledge of other people. It's what made Xenia so successful with businesses, its own ecosystem, and its communities. Earth has none of that. You landed on Earth in the year 1000, and they're nothing like what your planet is like. This planet is filled with poverty, famine, greed, struggle, and a corrupt elite community who think they're too good for everyone below them.

With your knowledge and power, you could easily fit your way into the elite status, but then who would help out those in actual need? Who can they turn to when they need help? You don't have any healing powers, so you can't aid them medically, but you can offer them something else: agriculture and clean water. You're still getting used to your new life Markus forced upon you, but if you can help others while doing it, then you have the obligation to do so.

They don't have the resources to build a new world, and you're not going to freak them out by showing them you're an alien, so you'll use what they have to help them. Something you often did back home with your mother, was make clothes for all of your friends and family. You love sewing and creating something out of nothing, and seeing how the poverty is dressed, you think you can help them by providing them with clean clothes, blankets, and other types of means to stay warm.

It didn't take long before communities came to your town to buy your clothes. Most of the time, you didn't want them to pay since you're not doing this for the money, but some refused to take your clothes without paying for them. After five or so years of being in that town, you've come to make friends with almost everyone. Along with clothes and blankets, you'd offer clean water for them to take with them--as much as they needed. It's not much, but that seemed to make their day.

While Earth is not as technologically advanced as Xenia is, you're enjoying your time on Earth and hope that Markus doesn't find you here. Your home is on the other side of the known universe, so you think you're safe for now.

The bell on your door rings, signaling that there is a customer in your store. You look up and see one of your regulars with a tired look on her face.

"Alice, are you alright?"

"Yes. My youngest is not feeling too well. The poor thing is hot and cold and is not getting any better. I came in here hoping you might have something that could help?"

"Of course. I have more water for you to take home to your family. I have made some more blankets, which are in the back. Please, help yourself. I do not want your son to be cold."

"I do not know what this town would do without your generosity."

"I am just happy to help." The bell on your store door rings again, and you give Alice a warm smile. "I will be back there in a few moments."

She leaves to the back to browse your collection while you turn to the new customer. You're about to greet them when you see the most handsome man you've ever laid eyes on--and you've met millions of people.

He has a square jaw and pink lips. He's muscular which is defined by the blue and gold suit he is wearing. He has short hair with a sliver of white in the front. He has the prettiest of blue eyes--they sparkle like the ocean does when the sun is rising. You've only lived here for six years, but you've never seen this man before. Who is he? Why is he here? What does he want?

"Hi. Welcome in."

"I hear you are the best clothesmaker in town."

Ooh, and he has an accent.

"You heard right. What are you looking for?"

"Anything that will make it look like I belong in this town. This kind of sticks out like a sore thumb," he says and gestures to his suit.

"I have never seen that or you around here before. What is your name?"

"Ikaris."

"Well, Ikaris, I must pick your brain about where you came from, but I can help with the clothes situation. Follow me." You lead Ikaris to the section where you've made some clothes specifically for men. You grab something new you're working on and place it against his chest to see how it might look on him. You pause and look into his eyes. Wow, the blue in his eyes is shinier up close. "I believe this one will do."

"Thank you."

"Please, try it on. I do not want you leaving here without a proper fit."

There is a section you've blocked off with a wooden partition you've created. All the stores in Xenia have these, but you've resulted in using what humans have made available. A lot of businesses are run outside, but with your powers, you've managed to make a store big enough to have a few people in at a time. Humans wondered how you got there, to begin with, but they were easily won over by your generosity.

Ikaris walks behind the partition and tries on the shirt, and you grab a pair of pants you made before handing it to him. The partition is low enough so you can see his face, but you can't see anything else. He maintains eye contact as he tries on the clothes, and he smiles once he knows it fits.

"How do you like it?"

"It is very comfortable. How much for these?"

"No need. I do not need your money."

Ikaris walks out with the clothes on over his suit. You're not sure why he didn't take his suit off, but you don't comment on it. There is something about Ikaris that catches your attention, and you're not sure what it is. It's like he isn't from this world. It's in the way he speaks and the way he carries himself. He seems a lot older than what he looks like, and the more you spend time with him, the more you see that.

A couple of months have passed since you first met Ikaris, and you two have been spending a lot of time together. You're starting to really like him, and you believe he likes you too. There are some days you like to close up shop just to enjoy the day or buy food from the vendors around town, and today is no different.

You and Ikaris are walking down a beaten path in the woods behind the town you live in because it's less crowded.

"You never told me how long you have been here in town."

"Quite a while."

"You are very mysterious, you know that?"

"I do," Ikaris chuckles.

You two continue to walk, but you pause when you feel the ground rumble. You look to the side to see a gnarly yet beautiful creature inch toward you and Ikaris. The creature is bigger than anything you've ever seen on Earth, and it's iridescent blue and purple that shines whenever it moves. It opens its mouth to bare its very sharp teeth, and your eyes widen in fear.

"Look out!"

You push Ikaris out of the way just as the creature pounces on you. You go crashing to the ground as it drags you twenty feet. You reach up and grab its upper jaw to prevent it from snacking on you, and Ikaris looks at you just in time to see something truly amazing happen.

Your eyes shine dark red and orange and fire forms at your fingertips. As if it's second nature, you place your fiery hands on the creature and let the fire spread throughout. The creature cries out in pain, and you kick it as hard as you can which causes the creature to topple over you so that you're free from its grasp.

You gasp and back away from the burning creature only to back into Ikaris.

"You're bleeding," he says.

You look at your arm to see a huge gash where the creature must have scratched you.

"Don't worry, I'll heal."

Just like that, your skin starts healing from the damage taken to it, and Ikaris watches with curiosity and concern.

"Are you an Eternal?"

"What the hell's an Eternal?"

"Come with me."

He takes one last look at the deviant before taking your hand. He leads you to where he's been staying these past few hundred years, but there is nothing there to show. He stops at a clearing, and you look around in confusion. Before he has a chance to say anything, gold spirals and rings form in the sky until a black triangle forms. You're kind of amazed, but you've seen a lot of alien technology throughout your life.

You two are beamed up into the floating triangle, and you're greeted by nine other people in the same kind of clothing Ikaris was wearing when he first came into his shop.

"Ikaris, who is this?" the youngest and shortest one asks.

"This is Y/N, and she killed a deviant."

From what you understand, Ikaris and the other nine people on the spaceship are called Eternals, and they were put on Earth about six thousand years ago to protect humans from deviants, which is what you just killed. They all have special powers that they use to aid them in the war not a lot of people know about. When you had a feeling Ikaris was different, you weren't expecting him to be six thousand years old.

"If you're not an Eternal, then what are you?"

Makkari is the only one who speaks Sign Language, but you don't know much about the language to understand what she is saying, so Druig translates for her.

"I'm from Xenia, a planet on the other side of the universe. I was experimented on by someone who wanted to take over planets with fear. He created a serum that gave me the powers of shapeshifting, which is why I've been able to sneak in and out of the royal castle to steal food or pose as someone with wealth.

"Then, he started experimenting with the Tesseract or the space stone which is one of the six infinity stones. It's what gave me my second set of powers which is controlling the four elements. It's why I was able to kill that deviant with fire. It's also why I can heal quickly."

"How old are you?"

"One hundred. I left my planet at fifty years old, but I stopped aging when I turned thirty-three."

"How did it take you fifty years to travel across the universe? I'm not a math genius, but even I know that's impossible," Phastos asks.

"Because I was made using the space stone, it gave me the ability to create portals which I can open to anywhere in the universe. I had trouble adjusting to that power, so it took me a little longer to get away from my maker. I'm making a home here, and I'd like to stay here if that's okay with you."

"Of course," Ajak says. "I thank you for killing that deviant. We could use your help in killing all of them so that we may go home."

"Anything I can do to help."

And just like that, you became an Eternal-adjacent. It pained you to leave the small town that relied on you to survive, but if you don't take care of the deviants, then there won't be a town left at all. It's nice to be part of something that matters since all you've been part of is something evil for most of your life. You're not even sure where Markus is, but you hope that he doesn't ever find you.

The years blend as you and Ikaris grow closer. The more time you spend with him, the more you fall in love with him. You've never been in a serious relationship before him since you were too scared to start something, but now you feel secure enough to let someone else into your life.

It doesn't matter if Ikaris is human or not.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fic #ikaris #ikaris x reader #ikaris fic #ikaris fanfiction #ikaris fanfic #ikaris fluff #ikaris angst #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fluff #marvel angst #mcu

[blueseachelle]

It's a Contract. Chapter 1.

Vox Machina Critical Role

Percy De Rolo x Female! Human! Draconian Warlock! Reader

This is going to be interesting!

"Y/n. Do you know why were are valued?"

"No, Momma. I do not."

Little Y/n looked up to her mother and slightly tugged at her dress. She smiled, picking the little girl up, causing her to giggle.

"Because, My little dragon, it's because of our linage."

"How?"

"You see, A long time ago, one of our ancestors was found to be favored by Bahamut, The God of Dragons. This is where our story begins. This is what lead to our clans power and our internal spirits. That's how we only die do to old age or if we don't find favor with Bahamut. If we get killed, we get another chance if we have been carrying on the bloodline correctly or, being a good follower."

"That's why we have magic?"

"Yes, that's why you have a lot of magic this young in life. You will continue to get stronger and stronger until the day you go."

"I'm gonna be the strongest Dagon to every exist!"

"I know, My love. We all know."

This was the truth. Somehow, she was born in direct favor with Bahamut himself. One of the linage was supposed to but, they never expected it to be her. They always that it was going to be Y/n's older brother. He showed the signs but, it wasn't true. Y/n was born into there lives and was the exact opposite of him.

When the ceremony of Favor had come, it seemed as if Bahamut himself descended from the plain of Celestia to greet her and make the promise. Her hair was changed that moment. Going from blond hair to a dark blue ombre (Midnight blue to a light blue). Her eyes changed from the clan light blue eyes to a galaxy blue color (color number #000044 if you were wondering). Her eyes would almost shimmer like the stars in the sky.

From that moment on, She was the chosen. She thrived and grew faster than any of her ancestors. Magic, weapons, etc. She was proficient in all. She was the bringer of Justice. To pave the path.

Soon, the De Rolo clan reached out to them and asked if one of family members to become a console wizard. Of course, the older brother thought that it would be him since he is the oldest and currently have the best ties to other kingdoms.

When the family was choosing who to send, Y/n asked to go. This irked the brother but, let it go. At least he would make a statement in the clan and run it before she had the chance to take everything from him. She, of course, never knew he felt this way.

When she was asked why she wants to go, she said she feels like her spirit is calling and she is going to complete a new chapter in power than what surface they are scratching. They, of course, let her go.(She was 16 at the time, Im gonna say Percy is 18 in the beginning.)

This is where our story officially begins.

Y/n's feet finally touched the ground in front of the pristine white castle of Whitestone. Her Dark blue and black armor adored her body. The main part was a mid-thigh dress with a long cloak on top reaching about to her knees. Her boots goes about low thigh. The metal on her body was carved to be like scales. (I give up. Heres a link with a general idea. Sorry, I'm lazy. Insert the scale like metal pieces. ANYWAY!)

She was greeted by the whole royal family. She bowed in respect to them.

"Hello. My name is Y/n Dagon. I'm here to fulfill the request you put in."

She stood back up straight and instantly made eye contact with Percy. He was entranced with her beauty. He felt like the whole world stopped and it was just them. Looking into each others eyes for what seemed like forever. The galaxy eyes could go on forever and he was ready to stare until the end.

"Hello, Y/n. Thank you for gracing us with your presence. I know how important to you are to your clan so, this means the world to us."

His father said with his jolly voice.

"Of course. I'm happy to be of service."

Everyone was introduced to each other.

After settled in, Y/n was finally made official and given her jobs, which consisted of being Percy's bodyguard. She was needed to protect the heir of the throne and ensure the continuation of the De Rolo rule.

Of course, they grew close. He learned about her and she him. He loved every moment he had with her. She never wanted to leave his side but, she felt a cruel feeling in her stomach every time she wanted to take the relationship to the next level. She knew to trust the feeling so, she did. They remained friends even though having massive crushes on each other.

A year then passed and the bond still existed between them but, the feeling in Y/n's stomach only got stronger. Her spirit was telling her to prepare herself for a drastic change.

And.... It was right.

#vox machina #Critical role #X reader #Percy de rolo #Percy de rolo x reader #Percy x Y/n #Percy x reader #Progressively updating #chapter 1 #Vox Machina #Demons #Dragons #d&d 5e #dungeons and dragons #gunslinger #Series #Turning into smut #Lol #LMAO

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Day Fourteen (Din).

pairing: din djarin x fem!O/C 

word count: 6.8K 

chapter summary: Grogu teaches Din a game, Din requires privacy, and the Armorer has words with Din. 

warnings:  angst, sexual situations, male masturbation and fantasizing, mention of suicide ideation, stomach illness, Mando'a and English cursing 

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***    

You Were Marked: Masterlist 

<- You Were Marked: Previous Chapter 

Din appropriated his jetpack back from Boba so he and Grogu would not have to ride the rattletrap speeder back to Peli’s.  Boba was satisfied that Din had recovered enough from his concussion that he was no longer a menace to the skies.  He touched down in Peli’s yard without stumbling — for once – and walked alongside his old ship, the Crest, trailing a hand along the fuselage.  A pit droid crossed his path and he fought the urge to kick it sideways.  The pit droid, already knowledgeable of the opinion of the irascible Mandalorian, skittered away quickly. 

“Well, if it isn’t Mando and my favorite little tadpole!”  Peli was walking towards him, shielding her eyes from the rising twin suns.  Grogu cooed at the bushy-headed woman.  “Going somewhere?” she asked. 

“Heading to Nevarro for a couple days.” 

“Your lady friend doing better?”  Din did not answer, but set the side ramp of the Crest to open. “Well, does she have a name at least?” 

Before Din could answer, Grogu piped up, shouting, “Mahr! Mahr! Mahr!”  

Peli grinned.  “So Mahr is the lady friend, huh?” 

“Patu Mahr!” Grogu squealed. 

Din blushed under his helmet.  “She’s not my … lady fr ...” 

“Mahr Patu!” 

“Dank ferrik, Grogu …” 

Peli laughed.  “Well, Little Bug has an opinion on that, it seems.   Go on, get outta here; the sooner you leave, the sooner you get back to your Mahr.” 

“It’s … ah … Marathel.  Her name is Marathel,” Din stammered before he rushed up the ramp with Grogu. 

Peli stepped back out of range and watched the ship take off and head out into the atmosphere.  She chuckled, and said to herself, “Not my lady friend, my fat ass.” 

Din got the Crest off Tatooine without out a hitch; his muscle memory and smooth handling was back under control.  As he was setting coordinates for Nevarro, he looked over his shoulder at Grogu, sitting in the aft chair with a smug look on his little wrinkled face.  Din sighed.  “Seriously?  Patu Mahr?”  Grogu squealed with glee.  Din shook his head and turned back to the console.  Not that the idea of Patu Mahr was a bad one, but … how could that even work?  He — and now Grogu by extension — flew all over the damn galaxy, and Marathel could only thrive outdoors in the sunshine and fresh air.  Even having a closed door frightened her.  Locking her up in a metal box in the vacuum of space?  Impossible.  

She’s not even well yet, you osi’kovid.  And you’re also assuming she will have anything to do with you, considering what’s been done to her. 

He had to admire her, though; she’d managed to survive, even with all the odds stacked against her.  The medical practices the rest of the galaxy used had little to no effect on her, yet she still lived.   Although … he’d heard her tell Fennec that she didn’t want to. 

Would you want to, after what she endured? 

But she went in willingly, knowing fully what she faced.   

And you know what that means … She was prepared to die before she walked through that gate.  She’s wanted to die possibly for longer than you’ve known her. 

Now that made Din pause.  He knew he walked a fine line between life and death most days and had mentally prepared for his end since before he took the helmet.  He’d stood beside his brothers and sisters, pledging to die alongside them with honor when that moment came.  The very notion of being so far down in mental misery that death was preferable to living was beyond his comprehension.  He thought back to what she’d told Grogu — he could hear perfectly what she’d told him; his helmet was excessively useful when it worked. 

She told Grogu to grow up to be kind.  And to take care of me, for I needed Grogu more than he needed me.   

Din watched the striations of the stars in hyperspace.  He thought back to when she and Grogu were digging out clams.  Day Six. It had started out terribly with the nightmares and simply got worse. 

‘I will be nowhere.’ 

Din realized with a start that she didn’t mean the planet Unmanarall, the Oldtalk word for Nowhere.  She meant gone from this existence. 

She told Fennec that she would rather live as a Belwhyn for one day and die, than live as a Whyn. 

Haar’chak, what do those words mean? 

Din sighed.  He could hear Grogu climbing down from the aft chair with a little grunt.  Out of the corner of his visor he saw two little hands reaching up towards the console.  Without looking, Din dropped the throttle knob into Grogu’s waiting hands, and followed it up with one of the better ration bars.  Grogu pouted — he was already missing Marathel’s cooking just as much as Din — but he took the bar anyway, and hefted himself back into the aft chair, munching away as he looked out the view screen.  Din put his feet up on the console, relaxed, happy to be back in space.  Din’s sleep schedule — such as it was — was still off, and since he was still recovering from his concussions, he nodded off quite quickly.  Almost immediately, he began to dream.  And of course, he dreamed of Marathel.   

It was just a gentle dream of her, sitting still, outside somewhere, the sun illuminating her from behind, and her hair was caught in the wind, billowing across her face, obscuring her features.  Her eyes would slowly shift up to look at him, but right before their eyes would lock on each other, her position would change, as if her image was on a stuttering holo-disk message, and her eyes would be far away again.  Her face looked serene early in his dream, but looked more and more distressed as the dream went on.  The last image he caught of her, she was hunched over as she sat, her arms crossed over her chest, her hands clutching her shoulders, her knees tightly held together.  Her head raised up to look at him, and he could see tears on her cheeks, but the image stuttered again, and Din suddenly woke up.  He caught his breath, hoping that the dream was not a portent of doom, that Marathel was all right, then deciding that Fennec or Cobb would contact him if something was wrong. 

Checking the console, Din saw that he had been asleep for a good couple hours.  He wondered if Grogu had been awake and alone that whole time.  The idea concerned Din; he’d rather be awake when the boy was to at least be interacting with him.  Din wondered idly if a nanny wouldn’t be a good idea, and then wondered why he should engage a nanny when he had Marathel.  He then reminded himself he in no way had Marathel; her recovery was still in the early days yet.  And then beyond her recovery … 

One kriffing thing at a kriffing time, remember? 

Din got up from his chair, stretching.  He turned to see if Grogu was still in the cockpit; he wasn’t.  Din could hear squeaks down in the main part of the ship, so he climbed down the ladder and saw Grogu running in circles.  Grogu looked up and squealed at Din’s presence.  Grogu ran up to Din, jumped up and down, and then took off, running away.  Din stood still and watched him go.  Grogu stopped and looked at Din expectantly.  Din tilted his helmet.  Grogu looked down with a harumph, and then ran back to Din, jumped again, and took off again. Din watched, confused.  “What is it you want me to do, kid?”  Grogu stopped running, and looked back at Din, frowning.  “I don’t get it,” said Din. Grogu grunted and stomped all the way back to Din.  Glaring at Din’s helmet, Grogu jumped up and down.  “Okay,” said Din.  Grogu turned away but looked over his shoulder.  “Uh-huh,” said Din.  Grogu lifted his leg, as if he were going to start running again.  “Did you want me to chase you?” 

Grogu threw up his little hands.  “Mee-YAH!” he shouted, and he began to run.  Okay, then, thought Din, and he gave chase. The two ran back and forth, up and down the corridor, Din laughing in spite of himself, and then Grogu suddenly sat down.  Din slid to a stop, looking down at Grogu.  Grogu looked back up at him.  The two males stared at each other for some time.  Finally, Din sat down as well, and Grogu sighed with the beginnings of an eye roll.  Din pulled his chin back, surprised.  Grogu’s facial vocabulary had been expanding quite a lot over the past couple of weeks, and he felt that Marathel had a lot to do with it.  It wasn’t as if Grogu could learn expressions from him; not with the helmet obscuring his face.  Din shrugged.  “So now what, kid?”  Grogu pointed at him.  Din pointed at himself.  “Me?  I don’t get you.”  Grogu kept pointing at Din.  “Are we playing that running game of yours and Marathel’s?  I don’t understand the rules, kid!  We were just running, and now you’re sitting down, pointing at me, like I’m supposed to know what comes next!” Grogu tilted his head at Din, much like Din often did towards the boy.  Then Grogu pointed at Din again.  “I still don’t understand, boy.  You had us running, and now you’re pointing at me …” It finally dawned on Din.  “You’re telling me … it’s my turn?  I have to say what we’re doing next?” Grogu squeaked at Din.  “That’s it?  You do something for a while, and then the next person comes up with the next thing to do?”  Grogu squeaked again.  “But that’s … that’s ridiculous!  What kind of game do you play where you make up the rules as you go along?”  Grogu looked expectantly at Din, who realized that it was exactly the kind of game Marathel would teach the boy to play.  Imagination was more important than rules to a child.   

“So … my turn, huh? All right, then … uh …” Din stood up.  “Time to jump backwards, then.”  Din jumped back about a foot, feet together, swinging his arms.  Grogu looked at Din, frowning.  “Are you playing or not, kid?  Otherwise, I’m looking stupid, jumping backwards like this.”  Din jumped back twice more before Grogu hopped up and copied Din’s jump.  Din jumped again, and Grogu followed suit.  “Okay, then, let’s do this,” Din said with a grin, jumping backwards until he reached the wall, Grogu jumping alongside.  Around and around they went, until Grogu decided that spinning in circles was a better move.  After a while, after they both got incredibly dizzy, Din tried skipping, feeling even more ridiculous, skipping in full armor and weapons.  Grogu thought it was great fun, though, and the skipping went on for quite some time, making Din mutter, “C’mon kid, give me a break here.”  Grogu finally stopped skipping, opting to do a most silly walk wherein he stood with one leg out behind him, and then slowly rotated the upraised leg to the front, then stepped down on the upraised foot, repeating the process on the other leg.  “You’re kidding me,” said Din, but he complied for a short while, half-wishing he’d gotten this whole escapade on holo, just to show Marathel and make her laugh.  Finally, Din decided to pull Marathel’s signature move, pretending that he had no bones, dropping to the floor like a rock.  Grogu chattered and pulled at Din’s arm in vain, while Din said, “No good, kid, gravity has doubled today,” before grabbing Grogu and tickling him mercilessly.  Grogu squealed and shrieked before climbing on top of Din, jumping on his chest.  “Ugh! You win, kid, you have me pinned!”  Grogu giggled and flopped on his belly, grabbing at Din’s helmet.  Din laughed and rubbed the child’s back.  “That was fun.�� Maybe we can play with Mahr when we get back.”  Grogu cooed in affirmation, then yawned.  Din continued to rub the boy’s back and thought about that tune Marathel hummed to Grogu.  Din remembered the melody well, but he despised the words, probably as much as Marathel did.  He vaguely remembered a Mando’a lullaby, now that he thought about it.   How did it go?  Din finally caught the tune in his head, and he quietly sang: 

“Nuhoy, ad'ika  Gar ner cyar'ika  Ni ja'haili'gar  Akay vaar'tur 

Nuhoy, ad'ika  Gar ner cyar'ika  Ni laarari'gar  Akay vaar'tur 

Nuhoy, ad'ika  Gar ner cyar'ika  Ni cabuor gar  Akay vaar'tur…” 

Surprised that he remembered the lullaby, Din lifted his head to see that it actually worked: Grogu was out like a light, despite his lack of singing ability.  He’d have to tell Marathel.  Din carefully stood and carried Grogu to his little hammock in Din’s sleeping quarters.  Grogu snuggled down immediately, with only one ear outside the soft blanket.  Din tucked the soft frog stuffie under the edge of the blanket just in case.  On impulse, Din lifted his helmet enough to kiss Grogu’s fuzzy head, which brought a smile to his face.  There was something to be said for this physical affection stuff, he thought. 

Din noticed that he had forgotten to get a new bed roll, and he groaned.  This meant he’d have to sleep in his captain’s chair.  It was comfortable enough, but it would inevitably put a crick in his back.  First thing on Nevarro, buying a new damn bedroll.  A good one this time, too.  He turned off the light in the small room and dimmed the lights in the corridor.  Din climbed up into the cockpit and lowered the lights there as well.  He put his feet back on the console, interlaced his fingers, and sighed. 

His thoughts went almost immediately to Marathel.  After almost a fortnight of intense closeness to her, he felt the loss of her presence.  He hoped she was doing well.  He thought about sending a holotext but he’d only been gone for a few hours, and he didn’t want to seem lonely and desperate.  He could cover it up by saying Grogu needed her, but the kid was sleeping, and anyway, Grogu was excited by the journey back to Nevarro and did not seem to be pining for his Mahr at all.  When we get to Nevarro, maybe then we can let her know we’re safe.  

Din wished he knew what to do about her.  Technically, she had been correct: she knew nothing about how the galaxy worked. Her limited experience must make everything terrifying to her.  The one place she seemed at home was in the kitchen.  Din was not strict on gender roles in any way, but he believed in playing to one’s strengths … and that bread making skill of hers was one hell of an asset.  Her skill in textiles was another.  All those women and girls on that planet of hers …they were uneducated but seemed smart as whips and were fiercely protective of each other, just as he would expect from any warrior.  And that Lorica, spitting on his boot like that.  If he hadn’t been wearing a helmet, he supposed she would have spit right in his eye, and it would have stung. 

Could anything be done for those women? 

He didn’t know.  The planet was so far off the radar of the Empire and the Republic alike; there was absolutely no sign of either faction there at all.  It was as if the Hold had dropped out of the sky, fully formed with the Round Building looming over the courtyard.  But there was no forge, so where did the weapons come from?  They all looked ceremonial in nature apart from the beskar hammer.  Where in shab did that come from? The Aurodium coins?  It made no sense. 

Din did have one idea, though, and he coded it into a holo-text to Greef Karga.  He would be seeing him tomorrow, and hopefully he would have an answer for him by then. Hopefully. 

Din briefly wished he were heading back to Unmanarall to face that Captain, the Bishop, to get some answers and give a serious beat-down to all the men who’d laid a hand on his Marathel.   

He wished Marathel to be with him while he meted out his justice in her name and tell him precisely how she wanted each one to die. 

He wished he had been able to bring himself out of his hut’tuun frozen state and just pulled her out of that hellhole. 

He wished he had kissed her when he had the chance, not just when she was unconscious and on the brink of death. 

He wished he had fully undressed her — her warm, soft, soft body — when she allowed him to touch her, and allowed her to touch him back, to feel her hands on his body and surrender himself to the touch of another person … something he continually denied himself. 

He wished he had removed his helmet for her, made love with her, fully undressed rather than just removing enough clothing necessary for the sex act, reveling in her skin with his own, oh, her beautiful skin, to kiss all that fabulous skin, to nuzzle against it, to get her scent and exchange it with his own by moving his cheek and lips over her voluptuous body as she had his, to lift her soft, heavy breasts with the palms of his bare hands, to feel the different skin textures from her pebbly areolas to the hard nubs of her nipples with his thumbs, to suckle at those nipples and savor them with his tongue, to kiss her rounded belly and curve his hands over the swells of her hips and her buttocks, to move his mouth down her abdomen to between her supple thighs, to let his tongue open her delicate nether lips and dance on the bud of her clitoris with his nose sweeping through the soft thatch of silver curls, grasping the sweet globes of her magnificent ass in his hands, breathing in the sweet scent of her cream that he had once been privileged to smell off her fingertips, her hands, her hands, such strong gentle fingers touching his hair as he lingered at the apex of her legs, and him kissing the tip of each finger before returning to the chalice of her sex, sipping at her opening before lathering his tongue over her entire inner area, so warm and soft and wet, her taste so sweet and just slightly musky, and then he realized he was palming his erection through his pants, exposed out here in the cockpit when Grogu could wake up and find him in here like this.  He’d never had to concern himself with privacy before the kid arrived, and it galled him to some degree he had to think about it, but he had to do something right damn now.   

Din hopped down the ladder and headed straight for the shower cubicle, locking himself inside.  He flipped on the water option, wasteful, yes, but sonic was not the way to go right now.  Liquid oxygen would be preferable.  Stripping himself as quickly as possible, he stepped under the cool spray and took himself in hand, stroking as slowly and gently as he could manage.  Even with the water, the friction was still too uncomfortable, but he didn’t think he had any kind of lubricant in the shower, just in the bin closest to his bed roll, and wait, was that bin locked against a curious toddler? And dank ferrik, man, why was he thinking about that now?  He tore open the storage bin inside the shower, knocking bottles aside and on the floor, discarding the soap and shampoo, he’d tried that once, just once, and never again, thank you very much, but at the very back was a small bottle of lubricant he’d forgotten about, and relieved, he filled his palm with the pleasant-smelling lubricant, and finally set himself back to stroking, picturing the naked Marathel lying beneath him on the wooden floor of her hut, those creamy breasts of hers heaving, then her on top of him, his cock in her mouth, breathing on him, only breathing, wishing she had used her tongue, her lips on him, wishing he had let her pleasure him as they’d pleasured her together, those full lips of hers, how soft, haar’chak, that pussy of hers, so hot, always so damn wet, she’d always been ready for him, a perfect fit for his cock, so tight and yet yielding at the same damn time, clenching down on him when he was inside her, and she always came so hard, so hard he wondered if the other women he’d been with had been faking it the whole damn time, he was not a practiced lover by any means, just functional at the sex act, he didn’t even know how to kiss properly, Cobb had to teach him how, but he knew if he could just get back to Marathel, if Marathel would come back to him, perhaps they could both learn together, and it would be so damn good, so much better than fisting himself in this fucking shower, and his strokes got faster and harder as he pressed his forehead against the wall, and he was just about there, and he thought of her face and how it looked when she came, her cries of pleasure, the odd tear leaking from her eyes, her long strong legs flexing their muscles and going rigid, the quiver of her body, particularly her pussy clenching even harder on him, and he finally came himself, grunting loudly and spattering the shower wall with ejaculate, twice, three times, and a weak fourth time before finally feeling spent, and he rested against the shower wall, breathing hard, wondering to himself when was the last time he’d masturbated to a fantasy rather than just getting the job done, as it were, and he couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. 

Din puffed his cheeks out as he exhaled. He washed his hair and finished cleaning himself, since he was in there anyway, giving the shower itself a bit of a clean at the same time.  After turning off the water, Din realized a couple of things: there were no towels in here, and in his haste to get undressed he had left all his clothes on the floor, and they were now all wet.   

Haar’chak. 

Din pulled on his flight pants, which were uncomfortably wet and cold on his bare skin and placed the helmet on his head.  Catching his reflection in the durasteel mirror, he thought, yup, I’m a dumbass and then dripped his way back to his quarters, leaning inside to grab towels from the bin closest to the door.  Grogu was quietly snoring.  He also found a fresh set of thermals and padded back to the shower cubicle, kicking the wet clothing and armor out into the corridor before shutting himself inside again.   

Din roughly rubbed his hair with the towel, leaving it unruly and sticking up in all directions as he considered his face in the mirror.  He didn’t know handsome from a hole in the ground, and he had his father’s hooked nose and the lines between his brows, but his mother seemed to think his father handsome, so he guessed if he resembled his father that would be good enough.  His mother, of course, was beautiful, as dark as Marathel was fair, and his father was forever touching her cheek, holding her hand, rubbing her back.  Once he had woken up in the night, hearing his parents’ laughter in the kitchen, and he snuck out to see for himself, and peered through the cracked-open door.  His father was on his knees on the floor, and he was washing her feet.  Her feet always hurt, and she stood practically all day, and here was his father, gently soaping and massaging his wife’s sore feet as they laughed and talked about their day.  Young Din went back to bed, thinking that if you were willing to wash someone’s feet, it had to be love. 

Din smiled at the memory.  Feet, indeed.  He combed his hair, dressed in his fresh thermals, replaced his helmet, and hung up his wet flight suit to dry.  He set out his armor in the corridor so that he could clean and polish it after getting a couple hours’ sleep.  He checked on Grogu, grabbed a pair of Marathel’s socks, and went back into the cockpit for a long nap, thinking about Marathel’s feet, and wondering if she’d let him wash them for her.   

It was early evening on Nevarro when he landed on the edge of his covert.  Din had cleaned and polished his armor, even the damaged helmet, and had fully dressed himself in armor and weaponry, including the Darksaber, and hooking the marchwyl on his belt.  He hated the Darksaber, and the marchwyl even more than that, but he figured he could at least get rid of one of them on this trip … that is, if the Armorer would deign to see him, an apostate.   

Din stepped forward with Grogu on his arm.  The youngsters came running forward, happy to see their little green friend again. Din set Grogu on the sand, and he immediately ran off to join the others.  Some adults nodded at Din in greeting while others looked at him with a only a motionless gaze. Din stepped up to the opening into the catacombs and was met by the imposing figure of Paz Visla.  “Paz.” 

“Apostate.” 

So that’s how it’s going to be. “I wish to speak to Armorer.” 

“No.” 

“My helmet is badly damaged, and I bring bounties for the good of the covert.” 

“Have you bathed in the sacred waters of Mandalore?” 

Din bit his lip before he said something he regretted.  “I have not.” 

“Perhaps you should do that first,” sneered Paz. 

“I believe a compromised helmet would be a barrier to Din Djarin redeeming himself,” called the Armorer from deep inside the entrance tunnel.  “Show me your helmet, Din Djarin.” Din obediently turned to show the Armorer the deep divot.  “What caused this?” 

“This beskar hammer,” replied Din, turning back to face the Armorer, and removing the hammer from his belt.  “It is called the marchwyl.  I bring it, as well as a valuable bounty, from the planet Unmanarall.”  

“You have a habit of finding beskar weapons where there should be none.  I take it your helmet no longer has any capabilities?” 

“It does not.” 

“Well, then, follow close behind me. Let’s discuss this more.” Din, as always, resisted to urge to roll his eyes as he walked by Paz as they entered the catacombs.  “I thought you were on your way to Mandalore.” 

“I had this opportunity come up.  I couldn’t pass up what they offered.” 

“And what was that?” 

“Old Republic Ossum Aurodium coins.” 

“Who is this person who commands such an exorbitant price?” 

“A woman.”  Din did not want to expand on that at the moment.  He could just see the Armorer slowly look over her shoulder and then turn back. 

“I see.”  When they reached the forge, Din presented the beskar hammer to her.  “What did you call this again?” 

“The marchwyl.” 

“Where did you come by it?” 

“A planet called Unmanarall, out on the very far edge of the galaxy.” 

The Armorer wasn’t sure if she was bemused or annoyed by Din’s truncated answers, but she carried on her questions as she lit the forge.  “How did you come by it?” 

“The woman, she … she sacrificed herself for me to get the coins. Her kinswomen brought me the hammer.” 

“You carry much guilt about these women.” 

Din took a breath.  “I do.” 

The Armorer assessed the weapon in her hands.  “Whose blood is this?” she asked. 

Din knew that the Armorer knew the answer to her question but was forcing the answer from him.  Finally, he said, just loud enough to be heard over the forge, “Hers.” 

“Did she suffer?” 

“Yes.” 

“Was her suffering a dishonorable thing?” 

“Yes.”  He could not have been more emphatic. 

“Did you fight on her behalf?” 

Din swallowed twice before he was able to answer. “No.” 

The Armorer’s voice never changed its cadence, was not judgmental, as she asked, “Why not?” 

And Din felt his soul shrivel; how could he reveal this most childish of reasons for not protecting someone so vulnerable?  Yet he had to in order to remain on a path to absolution.  “She told me not to.” 

The Armorer gazed at him, silently, for an uncomfortably interminable time before she said, “Show me your helmet.”  Din turned.  He felt her hands examine the damaged area.  “And this hammer caused this much damage?” 

“Yes.” 

“You were injured?” 

“Yes.” 

She stood silently behind him for a while, and then turned to the forge.  “Go to the lower level and enter a meditation chamber.  Leave your helmet in the doorway and wait.  Think.” 

“You will use the marchwyl …?” 

“If what has caused damage becomes part of the repair, does it redeem itself?”  

Din couldn’t answer that.  “Grogu?” 

“With Paz’s family.”  Din nodded.  “This is the way.” 

“This is the way.”  Din turned and made his way down to a sub-level.  It was cool down there due to natural wind tunnels in the cave system.  He chose a dark doorway, entered, and removed his helmet, leaving it in the doorway as told.  The chamber was long and narrow, and there was no door.  Anyone who entered was in darkness, and no one went out into the lighted corridor without a helmet.  Din made his way to the far end, trailing his fingers along both walls, for the chamber was so narrow it was less wide than the span of his arms.  At the far end was a narrow cot, and no creature comforts.  Perfect for meditation without distraction. He sat down where the floor met the far wall and gazed towards the open doorway.  Someone came and took his helmet away, while Din thought about how he would now be carrying Marathel’s blood on his helmet for the rest of his life. 

Din had no knowledge of how long he sat in darkness.  He did have the opportunity to think about many things several times over.  Some of his answers depended on a certain woman. Some depended on the existence of the sacred waters of Mandalore.   He lifted his eyes when he heard echoing footsteps.  A silhouette placed a helmet in the open doorway.  Din waited until the footsteps were gone.  Coming forward, he saw the dark visor, in a field of gleaming beskar, look back at him.   He tried to consider the point of view of a frightened woman upon seeing this helmet for the first time.  Of having to interact with only this beskar face, a suit of armor, gloved hands, when she only knew men by the pain and degradation they caused her.  And then to have this blank face deny her and tell her that any affection he held for her was less than his devotion to his Creed — something she couldn’t possibly begin to understand — and then still demand her affection towards him. 

He placed the helmet on his head and turned it on with the controls on his vambrace.  All the screens flared to life, going through all the options and calibrating before returning to Din’s standard options.  He felt the back of the helmet, feeling only seamless metal, with no tactile evidence of a repair.  He stepped out of the cell and made his way back to the forge. 

“Is the helmet back to proper working condition?” the Armorer asked without turning from her forge. 

“Yes.  It is.” 

“Let us discuss the bounty you received for this woman.”  Din silently handed the Armorer the cloth bag, and she spread some of the coins out on the table.  “For what reason was the bounty placed?” 

“The woman was the … intended of one of the Elders of her people.  She had been living for some time without fulfilling that expectation.” 

“So, you completed this mission?” 

“Yes.” 

“So, the woman is with her intended.” 

Din shifted slightly. “No.” 

The Armorer looked up in surprise.  “No?” 

“She … she is on Tatooine, receiving medical care.” 

“So, you … completed the mission on one hand, and not on the other?” 

“She suffered …” 

“Does she have a name?” asked the Armorer, and Din could swear she stood three inches taller. 

“Her name is Marathel.”  The Armorer stood motionless, waiting for Din to continue.  “Marathel suffered greatly for me to collect those coins.  She condemned herself to death for my benefit, for the benefit of this covert.” Din took a breath.  “I failed to help her.  Ni cuy’ osi’yaim.  Ni cuy’ hut’uun.” 

The Armorer stood still, letting Din’s confession of his inaction and his cowardice hang in the sweltering air of the forge.  “Was Marathel deserving of this death?” 

“No one is deserving of what she endured.” 

“Marathel compelled you to not take up your weapons?” 

“She compelled me to remove my weapons altogether, and to be still.” Din dropped his head.  “Marathel was a victim of exceptional cruelty and nearly died due to my cowardice.” 

“And what is it you seek here?” 

“Absolution.  And the knowledge that Marathel did not suffer in vain.” 

The Armorer looked down at the coins, which reflected the fire’s glow.  “This bounty is not yours.  The covert will not accept it.” 

Din was struck silent for several seconds.  “What?” 

The Armorer put all the coins back in the bag and tied it shut.  “This bounty was not yours to receive.  It is stained with the blood and suffering of the innocent Marathel.  The bounty is hers.”  She placed the bag in front of Din.  “These must go to their rightful owner.  This is the way.” 

Din automatically began, “This is the …” He looked down at the bag.  “Then it was pointless after all.”  He looked back at the Armorer.  “How am I to tell her?  How can I look her in the eyes and tell her that her sacrifice meant nothing?  She will … this will destroy what is left of her!” 

The Armorer gazed coolly at Din.  “You have salvaged your honor by returning the stolen beskar to us.  To keep the coins would be dishonorable.  Go now, Apostate Din Djarin.  Find your path and follow it to find your absolution. This is the way.” 

For the first time since he entered this covert as a child, Din refused to respond to the call of his people.  He took the bag of coins, shoved it behind his cuirass, and left the forge without a word. 

The Armorer sat and considered what Din said of himself: Ni cuy’ osi’yaim — I am a despicable person.  Ni cuy’ hut’uun — I am a coward.  He was always his own worst detractor, she thought.  Every failure, every misstep, was taken so deeply into Din’s heart that he wore shame like he wore his cape.  If there is anyone who is deserving of She Cin Vhetin — a clean slate, a new beginning — it is Din Djarin. As she went back to her forge, the Armorer then considered this Marathel, an aruetii — an outsider, who was willing to lay down her life for a Mandalorian.  The Armorer, certain of her decision to not accept the bounty, wished her well. 

Din stalked out of the deep catacombs and into one of the larger common areas.  Scanning over the group, he did not see Grogu or Paz among them.  Din remembered where Paz quartered so he headed in that direction.  Before he knocked on the door, Din swore he heard laughter behind it.  Laughing?  Din knocked and the laughter ceased immediately.  After a moment, the door slid open, and the imposing figure of Paz filled it.  The two men looked at each other briefly before Paz stepped back to allow Din to enter.  Ragnar, Paz’s young son, was seated on a large cushion, and he was concentrating on throwing a sour berry in Grogu’s direction.  Ragnar tossed the berry high above Grogu’s head, but Grogu stopped the berry mid-air, allowing it to then drop directly into his open mouth.  Grogu grinned at Din with berry-stained teeth and mouth, juice drips down his shirt.  Din put his hands on his hips and sighed inwardly; now he had to potentially deal with the kid having a major case of the trots, depending on how many berries he’d eaten.  

“Your helmet is now repaired?” 

Din nodded. “Thank you for watching Grogu.”  Paz grunted, and Ragnar threw another berry.  “Ragnar has grown into a fine lad.” 

“Your green child is spoiled.” 

“He is good at bending people to his will.  Come, Grogu.”  Grogu hopped up and ran to Din’s feet.  Din lifted the boy and set him on his arm, wiping his mouth with the edge of his cape. 

Paz grunted again, then said in possibly the kindest tone Din had ever heard from the larger man, “I hope you are able to redeem yourself on Mandalore.  I hope the waters are still there.”  Din looked at Paz in surprise.  Paz reached out to his son.  “Come, Ragnar, it is time to sleep.” 

“Jate ca, Paz, gedet'ye,” said Din. 

“Naas wadaas.” 

Din left the catacombs, and returned to the ship, not because he didn’t have a place to sleep at the covert — he did; there was always room for another in the covert — but he thought it would be better in case Grogu did end up with the trots from eating all those berries … and unfortunately he was right.  He got to spend a good part of the night sitting on a crate, holding Grogu over the vac tube. Thanks, Paz.  Grogu had a stomach of beskar for spicy food and amphibians, but too much fresh fruit ran right through the kid with disastrous results.  Marathel would probably have a pithy Oldtalk phrase about this situation — like shit through a gochgoch or something equally as ridiculous — and make a mug of her stomach tea.  Din missed sitting on her steps, missed her mugs of tea.  He missed her. He had no idea how he was going to tell her that the covert wouldn’t accept the Aurodium … or if he should tell her. 

“You empty yet, kid?”  Grogu’s stomach grumbled in response.   “That sounds a lot like your hungry noise, but I’m not trusting your stomach while your back end is acting like that.”  Din heard a beep noise from the cockpit that sounded like an incoming message.  He grabbed the old towel at his feet and wrapped the naked boy’s bottom with it, hoping for a respite from the diarrhea.  It’s always something, thought Din.  He climbed up the ladder one-handed and punched the button for the message. 

BF: Marathel wants to know if Grogu is okay 

Din smiled, happy to know she was worried about them.  He tapped out a message. 

DD:  Grogu has an upset stomach  BF:  Marathel asked what happened to his stomach of beskar  DD: compromised by fruit  BF: Marathel wishes you the best of luck  

Din frowned, wondering why Boba was transcribing Marathel’s message instead of her doing it herself.  

DD:  Thank you Marathel 

There was a long pause, so long that Din believed that the conversation was over.  He took Grogu — now apparently over his Tatooine two-step — back down out of the cockpit to get him bathed.  Din had just distracted Grogu with a cracker so he could dress the boy when he heard the beep from the cockpit again.  He got Grogu settled back into his little hammock and whispered Mando’a into the boy’s ear.  After setting the lights on the lower level, Din climbed into the cockpit and checked the message. 

BF: The Modifier’s contact came through; treatment seems to be working 

Din took a breath.  She’ll live. 

Next Chapter ->

Translation for Din’s lullaby: 

Sleep, little one You are my sweetheart  I will watch over you  Until morning  Sleep, little one  You are my sweetheart  I will sing to you  Until morning  Sleep, little one  You are my sweetheart  I will protect you  Until morning 

Lullaby written by  @themischiefoftad on Tumblr 

  

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[fellthemarvelous]

Please try to remember the Death Watch are terrorists.

"We are the Death Watch. Our people were warriors. Strong. Feared! Now they're ruled by the New Mandalorians who think that being a pacifist is a good thing. They've given away our honor and tradition for peace. Duchess Satine and her corrupt leadership are crushing our souls, destroying our identity. That is our struggle." -Pre Vizsla

Maul met the Death Watch and their shared hatred for Obi-Wan and Satine is what destroyed Mandalore.

Read Pre Vizsla's speech here closely. Like so close.

Satine Kryze is not to blame for the destruction of Mandalore.

The Death Watch ARE EXTREMISTS!!!!

They used violence and death to take down an unarmed woman.

Satine Kryze did not cause Mandalore's downfall.

Maul and the Death Watch did, and they did so with cruelty because they made Obi-Wan watch helplessly as Maul murdered her.

She chose to LIVE IN PEACE because it is the right of people to live in peace. She didn't illegally obtain power. The other Houses entrusted her with Mandalore's safety.

It was the terrorist minority that had a problem with her. Satine refused to bow to terrorists.

Because war is not natural. War is not fun. War is pain and loss and a man-made creation of mass destruction.

Satine was so strong in her convictions that entire star systems made her the leader of their council of neutral systems because she was able to give her citizens the access to the peaceful life they deserved. She refused to let Mandalore's legacy become one remembered only for its bloodshed and violence. She knew she would probably end up being killed for her beliefs, but she stood up to every single person who told her that picking a side was the only way to peace when she and Mandalore were already living proof that it was possible to do that without Republic interference.

She died refusing to give in to all the men who tried to scare her into joining their side, and when she died on the blade of the darksaber after it fell into the hands of the angriest being in the galaxy, she still died with love and conviction in her heart. Her final words were not "avenge me". Her final words were "I've loved you always. I always will."

The other Mandalorians were right to trust her, not because she used fear and power to intimidate but rather love and compassion to give Mandalore the tools it needed to thrive.

I saw someone try to say that she didn't do pacifism correctly and I just...

She carried a deactivator, not a blaster. She defended herself even though she chose to carry a weapon only meant to neutralize. Her guards existed to neutralize threats. Not kill them.

What does it say about a person who thinks Satine deserved her fate because she refused to arm herself instead of looking at the person who murdered her? What does it say about yourself if you think a person deserves to die because they refused to arm themselves with a lethal weapon in the first place?

Excuse me???

Not to get political, but Death Watch and MAGA are basically the same. Spoiled brats who believed they should have inherited the throne based on blood rather than qualifications, and really mad to know they are in the minority of people who don't want peace.

A bunch of men repeatedly trying to kill the woman who has proven time and time again that hope is stronger than fear.

She proved that it's possible to live peacefully if people would learn to just stop fucking killing each other, and she is not wrong for choosing to give that small bit of comfort to the others who survived the Mandalorian civil war.

The people chose her because they trusted her to take care of them. And she did. For almost 20 years. She cared about what the people wanted and she chose to give them exactly that for as long as she could.

She didn't make them forget their history. She reminded them that they don't have to live the same way for the rest of their lives. It's okay to put down the weapons and it's okay to want peace. That's not a weakness at all. It takes strength maintain a light like that for as long as she did.

#satine kryze #clone wars #duchess satine #satine kryze defense #death watch mandalorians #you aren't stronger just because you have deadlier weapons #satine kryze proved that #hope is stronger than fear #love is stronger than hate #like wtf is up with hating characters who represent ideals we should be striving for anyway #she knew it wouldn't last forever but it didn't deter her or the new mandalorians from living that way as long as they could

[brightstarbutalsoidot]

of liars, sinners, love, and the day after tomorrow

What Aqua Hoshino used to know of love can be found in long strands of violet hair and eyes that hold the universe itself. An unfalteringly bubbly voice, a smile to charm the heavens, and a hug that told Aqua more than words just to what extent Ai Hoshino’s capacity to love could reach. Whenever she looked at him and his sister, she looked as if they were brought from paradise itself, and whenever she spoke to them, her words popped with fond softness and parental pride, and Aqua thought to himself that Ai Hoshino was an angel called from above to grace this world with her laughter and her smile and her songs and her love and her lies. Ai Hoshino, above all else, was a liar. She lied to her fans, she lied to her fellow idols, she lied to her company, and even to herself. Ai Hoshino did love. Ai loved so much, was loved so much, and that was not a lie. For all Ai says about lies being her way of expressing love, her love was completely devoid of it. True warmth, like gentle hands caressing your cheek, like a wry smile or a look of pure bliss directed at you, Ai Hoshino loved her children more than the world loved Ai of B-Komachi. 

 Aqua Hoshino has not known love since lifeless eyes that used to outshine even the galaxy itself stared unblinkingly at him. Tears flowed down his cheeks, or maybe it was her blood ( there was so much blood, so so so much, Ai, please please don’t go please ). It didn’t matter. Ai Hoshino died holding onto what she loved, free from the burden of her lies, free from the burden of this godforsaken industry, and her lies became her truth. Ai Hoshino loved her children, and that definitely was not a lie. 

 What Aqua Hoshino knows of love now is found in scarlet hair, scarlet eyes, and a smooth, melodic voice that did not hesitate to singlehandedly shove Aqua out of his walls, effortlessly tearing them down with an ease that terrified him. There’s something in the way that Kana Arima stares at him so sincerely and so warmly at times that shakes him. He doesn’t deserve it. Why? He doesn’t deserve love, not when so much hate pools in his gut and thrives in his veins, not when friends are just assets and connections, not when everything and everyone would all be just means to his end, someone like him shouldn’t be loved. This Aqua Hoshino who is so strong, who is so reliable, who is so helpful, who is so sincerely loved by Kana Arima, Aqua wished to meet him one day, because that person could never be him. 

 The Hoshino family is cursed to lie for love, and Aqua has never resented that fact before. Why start now? Lies are all he is, layer upon layer upon layer of unlovable and miserable hatred piled on top of each other like an amalgamation of sin and filth, yes, this is who Aqua Hoshino is. A liar who only knows how to act, how to manipulate, and nothing else. For all good that his knowledge as a doctor did for him, for it didn’t matter in the times he needed it most. Even if he was 4, even if his hands were pudgy and tiny and could barely grasp his mother’s hand, even if he had none of his equipment, there should have been something, anything he could have done for Ai.

 What Aqua Hoshino knows of love now is found in azure strands of hair and eyes that pierce through him again and again, eyes that stare at him with complete faith and devotion that he does not deserve but will use anyway. Aqua didn’t mean to care for Akane Kurokawa, but the queen on his chessboard is not someone he will ever force to suffer for his sake. He’s caused enough pain in both lifetimes, as a doctor who couldn’t be there for his patient, and as a son who couldn’t save his mother, he’s done enough. Better for her to be discarded than die, he tells himself, better for her to be out of my life than be someone I attend another funeral for, he tells himself. Akane Kurokawa is a sinner, and for the sake of Aqua Hoshino, she will have gladly bloodied her hands if it meant his freedom from the chains of his vengeance. The lie becomes the truth, if told often enough, if told well enough. Akane was Aqua’s first girlfriend, and maybe in a better world, a kinder time, Aqua would hold her hand and introduce her with a smile to Ai, and tell his mother that “This one, this is who I have fallen for,” but that is a lie. Aqua Hoshino does not love, not anymore, but he can’t find it in himself to stop caring. Their relationship is strange. Lovers but not quite, partners who don’t trust the other, sinners cut from the same cloth who would burn the heavens all the way to the earth if it would protect the other. Maybe that was love, even twisted and skewed and wrong and sinful, maybe Akane Kurokawa and Aqua Hoshino had love, and for a time, maybe it hadn’t been a lie.

 What Aqua Hoshino knows of love is lies. Beautiful lies, expressive lies, secretive lies, sinful lies, protective lies, truthful lies. Aqua Hoshino is a liar, clear as day, and he lies to his idol, he lies to his girlfriend, he lied to his mother, and he lies to his sister. Ruby Hoshino grew up in a world without Ai for over a decade, with only the warmth of Miyako-san and the cold love that Aqua showed her, a love written in a tapestry of lies too entangled to unravel with a single conversation. Even if he would never know, Aqua loved her then as Gorou Amamiya and Sarina Tendoji, albeit wasn’t in the way she wanted, and Aqua loves her now as his sister, as Aqua Hoshino and Ruby Hoshino, the Twin Stars of Japan. 

 Aqua Hoshino is a liar, and Ruby Hoshino is the only one who truly gives him what he deserves. He can’t help but love his sister for that even more. She hates him, truly and utterly despises him for what he’s done, for what he’s told and for what their lives have become, for disgracing Ai and for telling the world what should have stayed locked in a box and buried next to the coffin of their mother. Good, Hate me, despise me, for I am someone not worth loving. When all is said and done, Ruby will still hate him, and maybe that brings a pain that blooms in his chest that he can’t fully explain, a pain of needles stabbing at his throat and drying his voice, a pain borne from the thought that his sister of flesh and blood and someone who shared the burden of their mother’s legacy and the grief that came with it, being hated by someone like that hurt Aqua in ways he would never be comfortable with speaking or thinking of. Let Ruby hate him, let her spite him, let her gaze of happiness and warmth that now yielded a calculating gleam that Aqua saw in every mirror that taunted him pierce through him and rip this body to shreds. Ruby Hoshino utterly hates Aqua Hoshino for what he has done, and this definitely is not a lie.

 When all is said and done and Aqua is gone, he is at least glad that Ruby won’t mourn for his sake. She’s had enough grief for a lifetime. At least hated as he is, Aqua won’t make Ruby suffer even more when he’s finally gone for good. It’s better this way.

What Gorou Amamiya knew of love is in white, sterile rooms with bleak windows and a girl who would not live longer than twelve speaking to him of an idol group she loves so, so dearly, and it is a happy memory.

 If you tell a lie long enough, well enough, it will become the truth. Aqua Hoshino is someone not worth loving and Gorou Amamiya is someone not worth remembering, but maybe one day they both will. Maybe one day Aqua will go there and see flowers on his grave and know that someone loved him even then, that someone remembered who this man was, that someone  cared . Maybe one day Aqua will look beside himself and see himself surrounded with people he loves and people who love him as he is, and maybe he will smile. Maybe one day, the lies will finally become the truth.

 That day is not today, neither will it be tomorrow, but maybe, just maybe, it would be the day after that. As tomorrow bleeds into yesterday, maybe then will Aqua Hoshino finally, truly love again, free of the lies that glimmer like stars and unburdened by the weight of the heavens. That day may not be today, but it will arrive all the same.

#Oshi no ko #Gorou Amamiya #Aqua Hoshino #Kana Arima #Hoshino Ruby #Ai Hoshino #Akane Kurokawa #character introspection #a lil bit of #character study #this series has me on a chokehold #bittersweet #drabble

[sol-consort]

As much as you love the fact that humans are a sociable and communal species, I'm sure you're going to love the Angara.

Their society is based on the expression of emotions, being open and governed by well-being, not only physical and social but also psychological.

They have huge families where they are not even related by blood. And when a new couple forms, they literally merge the families' surnames.

You're absolutely right on the money! The more I'm learning about angara the more I'm falling in love with them.

The fact they wear their hearts on their sleves but are never naive. The fact they are so emotional intelligence and consider it the norm to voice their feelings out loud even if it causes disagreements because it let's people work through it.

Humanity is a constant masquerade, all the invisible tests and social cues. The angara literally defy a lot of the things we have stubbornly latched on into because of our fears.

We play hard to get, we lie about our feelings, we isolate and ghost people rather than face then head on. We downplay how much we love someone, we rarely hand out compliments.

We consider the first person who says "I love you" in a relationship to be the losing one. Love is war in humans. A constant test and guesswork.

So for the angara to come and simply...speak everything out loud? Without fear of embarrassment or rejection? It will intimidate so many humans.

The way Jaal complimented Peebee so openly and Cora tried to make him embarrassed about it but his only reaction was to compliment her too and she fell silent. We have to be constantly under 13 layers of irony to function, otherwise we die from embarrassment and shame.

Fuck when Jaal talked about having many mothers, I melted in my chair. Not only are they so beautiful looking with skin that reminds of galaxy and stars as their white markings, but they are so filled with love for each other.

Because at the end of the day, love is why any of us even bothers living. Be it love for one's children, or love for your passion work. Even love for another or simple love like videogames or dogs.

If love didn't exist, life wouldn't be worth living. We want to live and not just survive, we fall in love with the universe, art, concepts, and people constantly.

But none of us speaks it. And none of the speices in mass effect are bold enough to confess it. The closest ones were the humans with their enthusiasm and clear burning passion but even then, we let out actions speak our love rather than our words.

So, for the angara to come and achieve everything we've written millions of psychology guides for just naturally? The fact there was a couple clearly hugging each other and confessing their love inside the military resistance base so openly and their commander never barked at them to let go or stop? It's truly the alienating experience.

I envy them man. They have the social structures that humanity wished it had, constantly dreamed about but could never commit to. Because of our pride, our ego and fears.

I like to think the reason Ryder agrees to help the angara so much, not just to earn their trust but because humans see the angara and immediately have this urge to protect them.

They're so beautiful inside and out, so filled with love and acceptance for one another. So interested in their own community and safety. Fuck, the fact they need the sun to thrive is so poetic, they're like this beautiful garden of roses amidst such harsh environments. Of course, humans are gonna build a greenhouse to keep them alive during the winter. Are you kidding?

humans are such simps for these things.

Also, it is funny how the Angara and Protheons are on extreme opposite poles of one another.

#☆Angara #☆Jaal

[euphoriacafe]

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[tatzelwyrm]

The ending genuinely surprised me.

I had several theories throughout the game as to where the story was going with Tanalorr.

1) Nobody goes to Tanalorr (because the final compass is destroyed, or the compass or the arrays malfunction after not being used in such a long time or because the Abyss has changed in 200 years, or because Cal simply decides it’s not worth the bloodshed). Tanalorr remains an unreachable, quasi-mythical place and becomes a representation of the characters’ hopes and dreams that they give up on and eventually replace with a smaller goal (say, keeping the outpost safe and thriving).

2) The crew does go to Tanalorr, but it’s disappointing. Either because in the 200 years since Dagen went there it turned into a wasteland, or it has since been settled by hostile forces (Nihil remnants?) or because the Empire follows them there immediately. The crew returns to the galaxy they know and, again, pick a smaller goal (say, keeping the outpost safe and thriving).

3) The crew does go to Tanalorr and it’s exactly what they wanted, a lush world full of life, a beautiful, peaceful place for everyone who survived to live happily ever after, free of the Empire.

Never, ever would I have guessed they would go with #3! I mean, Tanalorr can still turn out to be ultimately disappointing in a sequel, but it’s a win for the crew and a happy ending for now (as happy as any ending can be with Cere and Eno Cordova gone and Kata having had to go through that).

It was hard for me to believe that the game would actually give Cal what he wanted, when it seemed to me that every NPC in the outpost was giving Cal the same advice: “get out while you can”, “be happy with what you have”, “don’t set your hopes too high”. At the point that I was really picking up on this, Skoova got to the part in his fish story in which he returned home from pursuing a whale (!) only to find his home destroyed in his absence, which only seemed to confirm my assumption that Tanalorr was, metaphorically speaking, going to end up being a White Whale.

At that point I was expecting to hear “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Rolling Stones to play over the credits.

"Get out while you still can” is one of the major themes of the game. This is the underlying goal of finding Tanalorr. Fighting the Empire was destroying Cal. For pretty much the entirety of the game, Cal is not well. He is angry, vengeful even, and so sad. He gets kicked, shot, stabbed. He has panic attacks. His friends die. He needs a break.

And then a map shows up that supposedly leads to a place only ever spoken of in myth, hidden in a deadly nebula that cannot be reached without an item of which only one remains?

I immediately understood Cal’s excitement for Tanalorr, but I was sure I was going to see him get his heart broken yet again, because Tanalorr simply sounded too good to be true.

But no. Just for once, the hero gets not only what he wants (mythical fix-it-all paradise planet), but also exactly what he needs (a break!).

It turns out, the things Cal needed to let go of are the Order and his pain (easier said than done when the game keeps throwing ever new kinds of pain at him). His hopes and dreams are fine. He gets to keep them.

And isn’t that the best ending one could wish for?

#jedi survivor #jedi survivor spoilers #tanalorr #the quest for tanalorr