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cabotwife · 3 months

Note

Hi!!! I missed your writing, I’m so glad you’re back 🖤 can I request Johanna x fem!reader where reader helps Johanna dye her bangs because omg I love her hair so fucking much

Like Blood

Johanna Mason x Fem!Reader

warnings: mentions of blood/killing, not proofread

word count: 1369

the room is silent, with a sense of understanding filling the walls.

“you could try a different color, y’know,” you say, breaking the silence as you glance up at the brunette from your seat on the floor.

you’re mixing together a batch of bleach while she’s seated on the toilet, watching you like a hawk.

Johanna simply shakes her head, “i like red. it’s-”

“like blood, i know i know.” you cut her off, chuckling as you finish putting the developer into your concoction.

the other girl goes silent again, taking to just observing you.

you grin up at her when you finish mixing the bleach, “all done, you ready, Jo?”

Johanna nods, shuffling on the toilet lid as she watches you stand up. the brunette is twisting and pulling at her fingers while you position yourself.

you straddle Johanna’s lap, seating yourself there. “hold.” you hum, lifting her arm up to hold the bowl of bleach for you. the taller girl does as you say without thought.

she’s silent as you slowly layer the bleach onto her bangs, “you should wash your hair more often, it’s greasy.” you say nonchalantly,

Johanna huffs and rolls her eyes, causing you to squint your eyes at her. you grip her cheeks and she makes eye contact with you. “i’m serious, Jo, when you get back i’ma make sure you wash your hair every other day.” you mutter, letting go of her face to continue bleaching her strands of hair.

Johanna’s eyes are soft as she watches you, but your eyes never leave her hair. you make sure not to look at her, you know what this could turn into.

silence fills the room again, the only sound is the squishing noise of the brush dipping into the bowl of bleach.

“you’re going to come back, i know you are.” you mumble, setting the brush in the bowl and the bowl on the sink. you look down into Johanna’s eyes, who’s never left yours. the rubber gloves are peeled off of your hands and tossed into the trash can next to the toilet.

you falter for a second before reaching forwards to cup the brunette’s cheeks. “we have so much to do, Johanna. our entire lives ahead of us.” you say softly, brushing your thumb over her cheekbone softly. “you’ll come back to me, because i know you want to, and the Johanna i know always finds a way to get what she wants.” a small smile forms on your lips as you finish your sentence.

the other girl chuckles, “i know i’ll come back, just.. i don’t wanna leave in the first place.” she mumbles, her soft eyes bore into you. “i thought that when i won my games they’d leave me alone-”

“they said they would.” you mutter, cutting her off.

Johanna hums before continuing, “he’s proving that i’m never out of his grasp.” she whispers.

your eyebrows furrow, “he? Snow?”

Johanna nods.

you shake your head, “you’re not his pawn, Johanna, you’re just doing what you have to do to survive.” you say gently.

“he wants the district 12 rebels dead. that’s why he’s doing this.” she mumbles, her eyes leaving yours to look down at her chipped nail polish. “he’s using us to do his dirty work.”

you frown, looking down at her nails with her. “you’re no killer, Jo.”

that makes her laugh, she looks up at you through her greasy, bleached bangs, “then what am i? i killed to be here, with you. and now i’m going to have to do it again because god knows i wouldn’t leave you here alone.”

you stay quiet, your eyes meeting her brown ones once more.

“time to rinse.” you mumble, getting off of her lap and walking over to the metal bathtub. you turn the tap. “come on,” you motion her over as you put on a new pair of rubber gloves.

Johanna is silent as she walks over. she sits on the floor, letting you tip her head back.

your hands are gentle as you rinse the bleach from her now discolored bangs. “there we go..” you hum, grabbing a towel.

you pull Johanna’s head up, rubbing the towel over her hair to dry it. when you're finished drying the brunette’s hair you set the towel over the side of the tub. “now we wait for it to dry so we can add the red, okay?”

the taller girl nods, “okay,” she replies.

you’re silent once more as you take care of the trash from the bleach.

“i don’t like it when you’re quiet.” Johanna says, looking up at you from her position on the floor. her eyebrows are furrowed and her fingers are twisting and pulling at each other.

you sigh, glancing down at her, “i don’t know what to say anymore.”

“you don’t have to talk about what’s happening, i just..” she mumbles, her eyes quickly averting themselves from you and back down to her hands. “i like hearing your voice.”

you stand there for a moment, quiet, as you stare down at her.

this isn’t the Johanna you knew, this Johanna is soft, fragile, afraid. but what is she afraid of? you know she’s not afraid of the games, she knows she can and will dominate them.

“okay.” you whisper, sitting next to her on the floor, your side pressed to hers. “what do you want to talk about then?”

maybe she’s afraid of being used by Snow to get the rebels under control. but she wouldn’t be acting like this if that was the case.

“tell me what we’re gonna do when i win these games,” the brunette responds, moving her hand to rest on your thigh as she looks over to you.

that’s when it hit, you know what she’s afraid of.

your eyes soften as you look back at her, “well, we could get a cat..”

Johanna scoffs immediately, “we are not getting a cat.”

you pout your lip at her, “a puppy then?”

the taller girl rolls her eyes, a small grin on her lips, “we could get a dog.”

Johanna Mason is afraid of losing you.

—

it takes a little while for Johanna’s hair to dry, but the two of you don’t really mind. the time was filled with chatter and light banter.

so you find yourself in the same position as before, the taller girl sitting on the toilet and you seated in her lap.

the both of you are smiling as you apply the red hair dye to Johanna’s bangs. “i love your hair,” you say absentmindedly.

“i thought my hair was greasy and gross?” the brunette chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

you roll your eyes, “doesn’t mean i can’t love it.” you huff.

red beads of dye roll down the girl’s forehead as she looks up at you.

your eyes meet as you finish with the last strand of bleached hair.

your heart rate quickens slightly, as a soft breath escapes your slightly parted lips. you find yourself slowly leaning down, your eyes half-closed in anticipation. as you make your descent towards the brunette, you can practically feel the electricity in the air.

Johanna’s eyes never leave yours as she leans forward.

when your lips finally meet hers, it's as if a burst of energy passes between you.

without breaking the kiss, your hands reach forward, fingers splayed as you gently cup her cheeks. the soft skin beneath your fingertips serves to ground you in the moment. as the kiss deepens, the passion between you both palpable as you lose yourselves in the kiss.

when the two of you pull away you’re both breathing heavily.

you smile gently down at her, “i’m going to be right here, waiting for you.” you whisper, leaning down to peck her lips again before pulling away.

“you’re gonna win those games ‘n come back here to me,” you hum, “and we’re gonna get a cat-”

“we are-” Johanna cuts you off, squinting her eyes at you.

you push your hand over her mouth, “-we’re gonna get a cat, and a dog.” you huff.

the brunette rolls her eyes, pushing your hand away from her face, “maybe.”

you smile, “i’ll take it.”

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #the hunger games #catching fire #finnick odair #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen #finnick odair x reader #peeta mellark x reader #katniss everdeen x reader #josh hutcherson

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kazoosandfannypacks · 4 months

Text

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

also on ao3!

This is (Kinda) The Way

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm a Mandalorian," Sabine said.

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

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

Ezra told himself not to replicate that mistake again.

🧡•💜•🧡

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

"Sure," Hera said.

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

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

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

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

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

Ezra nodded. That kind of made sense.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

"And?" Sabine asked.

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

"Why?"

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

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

"I'm serious," Ezra said.

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

"Look alive, Jedi!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you have in mind?"

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

Ezra smiled. She'd already taken the bait.

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

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

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

"Go grab my spraycans."

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for sharing it with me."

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Ezra said, "well, I'm not."

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

"Need a hand?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What happened, anyways?" she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I gotta go," Sabine said.

"Sabine...."

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

"I don't know how to ask you out!"

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Absolutely."

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

"Absolutely," Ezra said.

"How about a holofilm at seven tomorrow night?"

"Eat dinner separately first?" Ezra asked.

"Sounds like a date."

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How's that?" Ezra asked.

Sabine huddled a little bit closer to him.

"Perfect," she said.

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

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

"Yeah?"

She stopped in her tracks, and he did too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This still doesn't change anything."

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

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

"Same time next week?" Sabine asked.

"It's a date," Ezra said.

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

"Me too," Sabine whispered.

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

"Is this real beskar?" Ezra asked.

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

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

"Thank you," Ezra said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🧡•💜•🧡

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

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

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

"Managed what?" Sabine asked.

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

Apparently only one word in that sentence mattered to Sabine.

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

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

"How do you figure that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And do you mean that?"

"Every time."

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

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

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

"But do you mean that?"

"With all my heart."

Sabine took a deep breath.

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

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

"Yeah," Sabine said.

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

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

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

💜•🧡•💜

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

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

💜•🧡•💜

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

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

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

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

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

💜•🧡•💜

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zero06iranosaurusrex · 1 year

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me n my 4 am brain,drawin a hc that always been inside ma mind abt what happened if bugs use another type of different gloves from he usually used (beside the bikers one actually)

yeah the last one was bandage actually,but still count as simmiliar with gloves since..it covers his handpalms(?)

#bugs bunny #rkgk #headcanon #what if #he using different gloves #rebel without a glove #the looney tunes show #my artwork

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hitchell-mope · 1 year

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Is he playing Alice Cooper?

#the looney tunes show #rebel without a glove #bugs bunny

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ahsoka-its-all-of-us · 1 year

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On another Rebels rewatch and gods alive Through Imperial Eyes is gripping my heart ;-;

Kallus waking up from an alarm outside. How often do you think that happens? Had the poor man just fallen asleep only to be brutally shaken out of it again?

Also the way he opens his eyes and immediately gets up and checks the situation. Some people are useless in the morning; Alexsandr Kallus is not one of them.

The fact that he’s wearing his full uniform including the gloves (and has his hair perfectly styled) indicates that either he’s so overworked that he just fell asleep like that, or he legit doesn’t own any sleeping clothes and sleeps in uniform so he’s always at the ready in case the Empire needs him. Both options fucking break my heart damn ;-;

His reaction to Ezra calling him “Imperial scum”. The slight flinch. Is he actually hurt by that? Is it because he still views himself as such?

Lyste has been stationed on Lothal for years. Surely he would know what its biggest rebel threats look like? Is the man incompetent or just really bad at recognising faces?

Kallus’s complete astonishment at the idea of Ezra getting captured to warn him, and him not even considering the possibility of Ezra coming to get him out omggg ;-; The Empire clearly doesn’t care about him, so naturally he assumes the Rebellion doesn’t either fuck 😭

Ezra claims not to trust Kallus, but immediately upon being alone together he turns his back on him so Kallus can take off his bindings, before Kallus has shown any intention of doing so. Seems pretty trusting to me ngl

“I’ll be executed for treason!” and Kallus knew that from the moment he first became Fulcrum. He’s been shown to be cool in the face of danger, to be well aware of the risks of what he’s doing and doing it anyway. I think the reason he’s so pissed at Ezra seeking him out isn’t that he fears for his own safety; him keeping his cover is essential for his work as a rebel spy, and he doesn’t want that jeopardised.

“I could say the same to you.” That broke me. Because of his treason, Kallus has no one he can trust. No one. He may have switched sides, but that doesn’t mean the Rebellion trusts him. He’s well and truly alone, and he knows it.

Kanan and Rex being part of the rescue mission as well means that this is a serious operation. They want to extract Kallus, their former nemesis. The moment they realise his life’s in danger they all just jump into action. And fuck you just know Zeb is going insane that he can’t join them. He’s probably the one who talked them into the mission in the first place.

Fuck Kallus is tall 😳

Kallus’s reaction to Yularen 🥹 Little boy just wanting to be acknowledged by what was probably the closest thing he had to a father figure in the Academy, that’s both adorable and sad ;-;

They actually wanna bring Kallus back to Atollon. That shows that, whatever Ezra says, they trust him. You don’t bring a high-ranked enemy officer to the heart of your operations unless you’re convinced he won’t betray you.

“We all make sacrifices.” He says it sarcastically to Ezra complaining about his uniform, but you can hear there’s a deeper level behind it. Kallus is sacrificing everything, his convictions, his position, likely his life, for the Rebellion. And he’s not expecting a thank you, he’s not complaining, so Ezra shouldn’t either.

Kallus reprograms Thrawn’s assassin droids on the fly. That’s fucking impressive damn 👀

Kallus’s conviction when he tells Ezra there’s been a change of plans tells me he never intended to leave with him in the first place. As soon as he’d gotten over the shock over having a rescue mission sent for him, he must have been figuring out this plan to frame Lyste so he could remain undetected, or something close to it.

Ezra is probably just worrying about what the hell he’s gonna tell Zeb when they return without Kallus.

The betrayal in Lyste’s eyes and words as he’s being dragged away and Kallus watching him ;-; Kallus knows he’s likely going to be executed, or at least imprisoned for as long as Thrawn doesn’t know who the real Fulcrum is. Because he knows Thrawn won’t buy it, not for long. You can see it in his eyes when he leaves Thrawn’s office.

Kallus’s reprogramming of Thrawn’s droids is so skilful that Thrawn does not believe it was possible without Ezra's Jedi powers. That’s how good the man is.

Yularen’s disbelief of Kallus’s treason is adorable ;-; He did feel like a bit of a papa to Kallus as well after all 🥺

Also I just wanna point out one parallel: this is the second time Kallus refuses to leave a life-threatening situation to go with the Ghost crew. But this time the rescue party came for him, and this time they show that he’s wanted ;-;

#jenny’s headcanons #Star Wars #ezra bridger #captain Rex #kanan jarrus #yogar lyste #mitth'raw'nuruodo #wullf yularen #garazeb orrelios #kalluzeb

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quarantineddreamer · 29 days

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Jyn Week Day 1: Home

I wasn't sure I was gonna post this, because it's really not my best work. But then again, with the way my brain has been lately not much is! And I wanted to participate and show our girl some love so. Fighting through the perfectionist in me and here's this little thing <3

Though the Rebels had breathed new life into the cave upon their arrival, the network of tight tunnels and sprawling caverns that made up Echo Base had a history that stretched back to a time long before the war. There were stars younger than the stone walls that surrounded them, buried beneath layers of ice so thick, it was unlikely the galaxy would ever uncover the secrets they contained.

It had not taken Jyn long to begin exploring the area, seeking hidden nooks and crannies to which she might escape. Within a week, she had formed a sprawling mental map, memorized the quickest routes to every exit, marked the nearest spaces to duck to when Draven was after her about her latest display of ‘irresponsible/reckless/unacceptable’ behavior–or, when she simply needed quiet. (Which seemed to happen more and more with each passing day spent trapped in this hellhole.)

Tonight, she was bundled in her warmest gear: every thermal layer she possessed, two sweaters, one parka, her hat and scarf, gloves, and four socks pulled one after the other till she could barely squeeze her feet into her boots, much less feel them.

Clumsiness was the price to pay when you wanted to be up and about at this hour on Hoth–that, or frostbite. It was why, for the most part, no one on Echo Base left their beds after sundown unless they absolutely had to. In temperatures this cold, you’d have to be out of your mind to willingly leave the relative comfort and warmth of your room without very good reason.

Apparently, Jyn was out of her mind, because she’d woken from a dream–the one where the fires of Scarif blinded her one minute, and she was trapped in the cold bunker all alone the next–and crawled out from beneath her blankets. She’d dressed in the dark, moving by instinct more than anything, her skin itching and heart racing as the walls seemed to press closer and closer. Before she’d fully realized what she was doing, she had found herself fumbling by the dim yellow cast of a lantern to a place well-beyond the boundaries of Echo Base.

It would have been all too easy to take a wrong turn–and subsequently freeze to death trying to find her way back–but her body had taken care of her when her mind could not. Before too long she had arrived at a vaguely familiar antechamber, small and circular, with smooth, curving walls.

As she sat and leaned her back into their hard surface, it felt as though she were being held in the palm of some ancient, mysterious being. She took in her surroundings like someone waking up from a dream. Why had her instincts guided her here?

Then she felt it: air, fresh air; the barest of hints of it brushing across the tip of her nose and suddenly it all made sense. She closed her eyes and drew it deep into her lungs–holding it for a moment with the gratitude of someone reuniting with a long lost friend–before releasing a slow, careful breath. It lingered in the air before her–the ghost of a scared and lonely girl—a swirling cloud of mist, glowing purple.

Heart in her throat, Jyn lifted her eyes, seeking the source of the strange light. High above her, the chamber’s ceiling of ice and rock gave way, revealing an incredible sweep of night sky, dancing with color. Wind whistled across the opening of the cave…waves whispered upon a black-sanded shore…

“What are they, Mama?”

Her mother’s amused hum tickled at her back. “The Force paints a path home for those that are lost, my love.”

Jyn squirmed beneath the blanket, trying to find her father’s face amidst the orange, flickering shadows of the bonfire. “What are they really, Papa?”

Mama’s head rested beneath his chin, his arms wrapped around them both, a shield from the wind. He gave her a smile; her favorite kind, the kind he gave her when he asked if she could keep a secret. “You don’t believe your mother?”

Jyn didn’t think her question had anything to do with belief, she simply wanted to know. Mama often told her stories about the Force; stories about love and anger, light and dark, and the threads that tied the world together–just like the ones her favorite blanket was made of. But Papa told her stories too; stories like what kind of soil made the plants on the farm grow, or why her skin turned red after too much time in the sun, or how to fix Stormy when his arm fell off. Mama’s stories were stories she saw and felt on the inside, while Papa’s were ones she held in her hands. But they were both a part of her, pieces she carried with her wherever she went.

She studied the sky again, following the splashes of purple and green and blue as they wove their way between clusters of stars. She wondered what it would feel like to stand on one of the rippling bands of light; tried to imagine stepping one foot after the other across the horizon as her mother had described. Maybe it would be warm, like sand in the sun, or maybe it would be more like waves lapping at her feet, cold and tingly.

“A scientist’s daughter through and through,” Mama laughed. “I recognize that look in her eyes…”

Jyn wasn’t sure what exactly she meant by that, but she tore her gaze away from the lights in the sky and turned towards her father instead, ready for his answer.

His skin shimmered green, then blue, and back again, the same colors as the ones that hung in the air above them. “The path your mother spoke of is made of particles, shed by our planet’s suns.”

Jyn frowned at this. “But it’s nighttime.”

“Just because we cannot see something, does not mean it is no longer there,” Papa explained, reaching over to tug the blanket back over her shoulders. “Tonight, the aurora reminds us that the suns have not left us, and they will rise again tomorrow.”

She twisted to face Mama again. “So the suns are the Force?”

“The Force is the suns,” her mother murmured reverently, “and the wind, and the waves, and the sand beneath you. It’s the salt on your tongue when you breathe in and…” she smiled as she poked Jyn’s nose with the tip of her finger, “that means it’s a part of you, and me, and your Papa too.”

Jyn settled into her parent’s arms again and shut her eyes, feeling for the Force her mother spoke of. She wasn’t sure what it was supposed to feel like.

But she thought there might be some truth to her parents’ words, because though she could not see them anymore, she could sense them there beside her. The comfort of her mother’s heartbeat under her ear, the warmth of her father’s breath as he bent to press a kiss to the top of her head.

And if she were to find herself lost and standing amidst the aurora, she felt certain this was where they would bring her.

The colors of the sky began to blur and run together. Jyn wiped roughly at her eyes, urging tears away before they could turn to frost upon her cheek. Hoth was more than a far cry from the beaches of Lah’mu, yet she felt closer to it now than she had in a long time.

“Beautiful,” a voice murmured, echoing quietly off the stone around her.

Jyn started, turning towards the rasp of footsteps. “Cassian…” Leave it to the spy to find her in the middle of a labyrinth in the dead of night.

“How long have you been standing there?” she asked warily, taking one last self-conscious swipe at her face with the sleeve of her coat.

“Not long,” he answered, lingering at the entrance to the cavern.

But long enough… Jyn figured. She heaved a short sigh and returned her gaze to the aurora, an ache in her chest. “There were lights like this on Lah’mu,” she murmured, an explanation of sorts–though Cassian had not asked for one.

He ducked past the icicle that hung in from the tunnel’s opening and silently came to sit beside her, his shoulder brushing against her own. Though it barely made a difference in a cold this numbing, Jyn found herself drawing comfort from the warmth of his body beside her.

“How’d you find this place?” he asked softly.

She glanced at him, but he was looking at the lights above, granting her a reprieve from the weight of his stare. “How’d you find me?” she countered.

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly, but his eyes were serious when they landed on her again. “I went to your room and you weren’t there. For a moment I thought…” he shook his head and took a sudden interest in his boots.

“You thought I’d left?”

“I didn’t know what to think. I checked the infirmary next.” There was an odd strain to his voice, something she couldn’t quite place. “No one had seen you there either, so I headed towards the perimeter,” a small smile crossed his lips, “I’ve noticed you wander to the edges of Base when you’re trying to avoid Draven.”

“Of course you did,” Jyn remarked. “Then what?”

“I followed the light…”

“And it led you here…” The memory of her mother’s story–still fresh in Jyn’s mind–began to mingle with words Cassian had once spoken to her. The kyber crystal she wore seemed suddenly heavier than it had a moment ago, a hand resting over her heart.

She thought of Bodhi, Chirrut, Baze, even K2. Of all the people who she had gotten to know because of the Rebellion. People who had her back. People who might not understand all of her, but who accepted her nonetheless.

“Hoth is the first time we’ve really slowed down since Scarif,” Cassian said, ignoring her sudden glance at the mention. “I know it can be hard to adjust to life in the Rebellion.”

A tentative smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah,” she replied, catching a ripple of light and shadow as it wandered across his face. “I've been feeling lost…but I think I’m beginning to find my way.”

#jynweek #jynappreciationsquad #rogue one fanfic #b writes #jyn erso #galen erso #lyra erso #cassian andor #(rc if you squint but you def dont have to whatsoever)#this is probably gonna get buried in boops and thats okay too <3

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bluebunnyears-08 · 1 year

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Why Nine is The Secondary Protagonist in Sonic Prime

I recently made an appreciation post about this edgy little fella, however, when I rewatch the show (yes I rewatch it several times daily, so what?) I feel the cogs in my brain turn and create several theories. Looking back at Nine, I realized he will be one of the BIG characters, not the big (relevant to the plot and development), but the BIG (really fucking important).

As in MIGHT BE THE DEUTERAGONIST type of BIG.

Sonic is the protagonist, as he usually is in his games, however, Nine is another huge character who is not only crucial to the plot but might also twist the plot as well.

A deuteragonist is an essential secondary character in a narrative, second only to the protagonist, and may act like a constant companion or someone who aids the protagonist. However, the deuteragonist can change from helping the protag to actively opposing them, depending on their own conflict or plot.

Nine already proves to be a huge character in Sonic Prime, however, in the first batch of episodes, Shadow does somewhat take up some of this role. However, he might change to become a tritagonist in future episodes. Someone who helps the protagonist, is the third most important character, and often the third member of the group.

So Nine might be the TRUE deuteragonist and I DO have a list of reasons why I think so.

So, with that said, let's begin.

1. He is already established to be an important character

From the first moment we meet him, we already know he's going to be a very important character in the plot. He fixes up Sonic's shoes and gloves figures out how to use a shard to open a portal, and is a very formidable ally. He is an important character to keep the plot going and to help explain the plot. However, it's not like those Sonic games, where he's just there to explain the plot. He HAS a character and personality, he's not just a cardboard cutout.

He HAS depth and complexity to him. Something I can appreciate considering the past media of any version of Tails the past years (not including Frontiers, that game was amazing). He's also obviously going to continue to be an important character in season two as well.

2. He's a very engaging character

Let's all admit it: Nine is the most interesting character in Sonic Prime. Not just because of his mindset of "get this however you can no matter what" and "do whatever it takes and needs to survive". Not just that but his snarky and cold personality combined with his nine-tailed badassery just makes him an engaging and enjoyable character.

The things he does can leave people scrambling for answers. Why exactly did he change his mind about helping the rebels? What is he planning? What is going on in that fluffy head of his?

So many questions that leave us waiting with anticipation for the next batch of episodes for answers.

3. People can relate to his trauma

Nine's backstory is what we expected, but that doesn't mean it holds back punches. Without Sonic to defend him from bullies, without Sonic to care for him and take him in, he learned to trust and look out only for himself. It's a sad backstory and it explains why he's so guarded and aloof all the time.

I've read posts that state they relate deeply to Nine and can immerse themselves in his character with empathy. I can confirm as being a victim of abuse. He's aggressive and snarky because he has walls, walls that he put up to never get hurt again. He doesn't try to justify himself in his backstory, stating he "wasn't minding his surroundings" instead of "I didn't know" or "it wasn't my fault" he shows signs of a sort of self-resentment. Again, I can relate SO MUCH to, thinking that I could've prevented it and holding myself responsible for not doing anything, that I could've stopped it from happening.

Those who suffer or have suffered can see themselves in Nine, and as a result, the sorrow we feel for him can hit harder if we know what it was like.

4. We don't know where his character is going to end up

Another bunch of posts I've seen about Nine is that we legitimately don't know where his character is going to end up. He's muddled deep in his mystery and inner turmoil that we can't see the deep end of what he's going to be. A hero? A villain? An Anti-hero?

Just what's going to happen to him?!

He has a plan but what is it?

5. He's the most controversial character

Nine's intentions and character have been put in many perspectives on what people think he's planning, what he's going to be, why he does certain things, whether he cares for Sonic or not, whether he trusts Sonic or not, and MORE.

He's been theorized and twisted into what people think about him and what he's going to do. In my opinion, if a character does this to a community, you KNOW you're doing something right. Controversial characters are very mysterious and morally ambiguous, you don't truly know why they do the things they do or what they plan, but you have your own ideas on what might happen and other people do too, despite them possibly being different from yours.

Controversy (WHEN NOT LEADING TO VIOLENCE AND DEATH THREATS) is very fun and interesting. Reading people's thoughts even if they differ from your own, with the possibility that they might change your own theories is a very enlightening and interesting thing!

6. He has a completely opposite goal to Sonic

It's very clear that Sonic and Nine have different goals that clash with each other. Sonic, being the all-loving hero he is, wants to return home and see his true friends again, not to mention help and protect the other shatter spaces. Nine on the other hand wants to make a new home, a world with just him and Sonic and nobody else, not caring for the other shatter spaces or anybody else.

Their goals clash with each other and can't be fulfilled at the same time. Nine's goal includes only him and Sonic and no one else. Sonic's goal includes others, not to mention these two are from two completely different universes.

It's clear these two, no matter how close they are, won't give up their goal for the other, so unless their willing to compromise, it might lead to something bigger.

7. His goal separates him from other variations of himself and others

While he is just another variation of one of the main characters, his goal of achieving something beyond his own universe along with keeping Sonic differentiated from the other main variations who want something within their own shatter space. Thorn wanted to keep the jungle from being destroyed, and Dread wanted the shard out of greed, the rebels want to put the council out of power and take back their land, the jungle variants wanted to eat and live among the jungle again, and the pirates are just typical pirates.

Unlike the others, whose goals can be achieved in their universes, Nine wants nothing to do with his own. Like Sonic, Nine's goal is related to the shatter space.

8. Nine truly has no one EXCEPT Sonic

Another thing to differentiate him from the other versions of himself and the main cast is how Nine has nothing to lose. Other versions of him have a group of the main cast, hell even Rusty Rose finds herself valued (not sentimentally but still) and useful to the council. Nine, however, has nobody until this bright blue hedgehog told him about a life he could've had, a life Sonic gave to his other self.

So it's no wonder he took the very person who can give him the same life to a new shatter space. He wants that desperately. It's no wonder he doesn't show an interest in getting Sonic home anymore, if he does that, the chance of having the life he always wanted, that hope, would be gone forever. I don't think Nine's going to let that happen easily.

9. Everyone roots for him and wants him to be happy

There are zero people that don't want him to achieve his goal of love and happiness. Not just for the fact that he's a version of a character we're already emotionally invested in, but also because Nine is his own person. He's still a person who was horribly abused to the point of being jaded and cold.

Seeing him smile or show comfort really melts my heart cause this kid deserves SO MUCH! I know you all agree. But it is depressing to remember that Sonic NEEDS to go back and restore his world, he'll have to leave Nine behind. I don't think they're going to go with Sonic taking Nine with him because of what might happen with the whole "they can't see each other" stuff.

And with how stubborn and desperate Nine is...

I'm curious about how they figure this out and resolve this.

10. He might affect the plot

A protagonist is not just the lead character who pushes the plot along, they also affect and can possibly change the plot as well. Sonic already kicked off the plot, it's possible for Nine to affect it in a BIG way. This can lead to a LOT of possibilities when you consider that. We KNOW he has a plan and it has something to do with the Chaos Council capturing him. This fact can lead to a LOT of interpretations.

Well, that was my list of how Nine might be the deuteragonist of Sonic Prime in the future. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a lovely day <3

#sonic prime #more sonic prime!#sonic prime spoilers #nine needs a hug #tails nine #miles nine prower #nine sonic prime #sonic prime nine #nine deserves to win #i love him so much #i need the second batch now #my little guy #baby boi #he has trauma #haha anyways #thank you for coming to my TED talk #sonic fandom #i want to hug him

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