#i miss dark!sabine

[illuminatedquill]

two arms surrounding you in a cold embrace

*Artwork done by Luneat, aka MoonFishGhost

Reference under the cut

[piosplayhouse]

Why does star stable keep trying to make me fight her I'm not arguing with a muscular woman like whatever you say mommy

[bored-student123]

OF COURSE it's Linda and Fripp who encountered Sabine during their Darkonium mission

[obiwanwhat]

So I firmly believe that everything Anakin did and said wasn't about him and what he needed to say, it was about what Ahsoka needed to hear and see.

There is so much to unpack within EVERYTHING of that episode but here's my attempt at trying to deconstruct the latter half of the Anakin & Ahsoka scenes:

"Ahsoka, within you will be everything I am"

For 15 years, Ahsoka thought that Anakin had died a Jedi. From the time she was 17 to the time she was 32 - it was a belief she held for her entire adult life! Her training as a Jedi was foundational to who she was (even if she wasn't a Jedi), and being trained by Anakin was the core of her Jedi training. For over a decade, she looked at that inheritance with nothing but pride over who had trained her and where she'd come from. And then she finds out what Anakin became. Obviously it's devastating to see someone who you consider family in the state, and to have them try to kill you! But the thing I'd never considered was how much it would make Ahsoka doubt herself. If Anakin trained Ahsoka - and you can bet she's now going over every memory of Anakin she ever has searching for double meanings, searching for signs of what he would become - what does that make her? What does that say about her training, and about all the lessons that shaped her?

"But my part of that legacy is one of death and war"

On top of that...Ahsoka has been a soldier and then a spy since she was fourteen. She was a literal child soldier! She was trained in nothing but killing and war, and then later had to train herself in killing and spying. Without a war to fight, who is she? Now that peace has (apparently) returned to the galaxy with the end of the Empire, what place does she have? What purpose does she serve? What knowledge of use does she have to pass onto Sabine?

"But you're more than that, because I'm more than that"

This isn't Anakin trying to defend himself, he's pointing out that to Ahsoka he means more than the death he caused, both as Jedi soldier and as Darth Vader. When he trained her, he didn't just teach her how to kill - he taught her how to respect and care about the men under her command, he taught her how to be brave in the face of insurmountable odds, he taught her how to be kind to the innocent. Clone Wars Anakin was just as much a Jedi as he was a solider, and so both trainings are what were passed down to Ahsoka. And his becoming Vader doesn't undo any of that. I don't think Ahsoka had ever figured out how to feel about Anakin's legacy, because how can she respect the man who became a genocidal monster? How can she respect and love and honor the man who tried to kill her? She should - well, not hate him, a Jedi (or even a not-Jedi) doesn't hate - but she should disavow him. But she can't, because he's still the man who stood up for her when the Jedi Council turned their backs on her, who drilled her in the lightsaber techniques that saved her life on Mandalore, who saved her life too many times to count and was her family. And she doesn't know how to reconcile those feelings with what Anakin became, and therefore she doesn't know how to reconcile the parts of herself that come from being trained by Anakin.

"You are more, Anakin. But more powerful and dangerous than anyone realized"

She's sidestepping the point by falling back on her default defense: Anakin fell to the Dark Side, and therefore everything that came out of his teachings - including her - is tainted. She still can't admit to herself that there was more to Anakin than his fall, and that all those parts of Anakin still mean something to her.

"Is that was this is about?" / "If I am everything you are-" / "then you've learned nothing"

She's still missing the point Anakin's trying to show her - that she carries his trainings and influence within her, but she is not Anakin. She is not tainted by Anakin's fall, and her fate will not be the same as his, because she's her own person who makes her own choices, and the good in Anakin's teachings - the good in her that came from them - doesn't just go away because Anakin fell. She's still so scared of Anakin's darkness - and what it says about her own inner darkness - that she can't see her own light.

"Back to the beginning. I gave you a choice - live, or die?"

For the last 10 or so years (however long since she returned from Malchor), Ahsoka's been in a holding pattern. All she knows is war, and she doesn't know what there is to life outside of fighting to live another day. She's terrified of who she is and of facing the ghost of Vader over her past. She's not living anymore, she's just surviving, moving from day to day. Anakin's telling her that's not enough anymore. Not being able to face her past and embrace her training literally killed her - Baylan was able to unbalance her enough to defeat her in a fight by stoking her inner discord. If she wants to return, she has to want to live, really live - she needs to find her direction in life beyond being a solider, and to do that she has to embrace her full legacy and training. If she can't do that, then she'll stay dead, stuck in the world between worlds.

"No-" / "Incorrect" / "You lack conviction" / "Time to die"

She still doesn't know how to see past Vader, so Anakin give her the opportunity to work through it in a way she can understand - by literally fighting her figurative demon.

"I choose to live"

By fighting Vader, by having the chance to kill him and embrace the Dark Side and realizing she didn't take it, realizing that she never even wanted to, Ahsoka finally realizes what Anakin's been trying to show her - she's not Vader, she never will be, because that's not who she is. Anakin's teachings are a part of her that she cannot escape, but there is more to Anakin's teachings than Vader, and there is more to her than what she has been taught. To find out what she is meant to be and move forward she must embrace where she came from. Only then can she return to the world of the living and move forward with her journey.

[gryficowa]

I wanted to paste the smiling cars that appeared in the background in the first (and a little bit in the second) season, but later seasons keep showing up (although I should point out that I'm looking for the first season, it's annoying)

Okay, I found one of those cars

I'll keep looking

Maybe not cars, but I remember people meming about it

Do you remember when people caught Marinette talking to Tikki and Tikki herself meowing?

I miss the first season, it had bad animation but jeez it was so meme

I don't want more powers and superheroes, I want the return of smiling cars

So I was going back to re-watch the scene where Alya breaks free from her akumatization in Gang of Secrets for my review and I'm sorry I was originally going to let this go but I can't.

Here's a screenshot of Marinette in Stormy Weather, the episode that is now officially labeled as "Episode 1"

She looks perfectly fine. Just as I remember. When it was starting out, Miraculous had some pretty decent animation for what it was.

Now look at her in this scene.

I knew that Miraculous' animation had been steadily declining throughout season 4 but wHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING

I'M CRYING WHY DOES SHE LOOK LIKE THAT

[antianakin]

My main problem with the idea of either non-Force sensitive people becoming Jedi or the whole "everyone is actually Force sensitive if you try hard enough" thing isn't that Force sensitivity is what makes the Jedi interesting, it's that this is what makes them JEDI.

There are TONS of characters in Star Wars who, if they were Force sensitive, would make excellent Jedi and I love quite a few of them. Just for a few quick examples off the top of my head: Bail and Breha Organa, Beru and Owen Lars, and Hera Syndulla (the Rebels version, not the Ahsoka show version). Sabine Wren, by the end of Rebels, would count on this list, as well (but not the Ahsoka show version). Jyn Erso and Bodhi Rook, especially by the end of Rogue One (Baze and Chirrut obviously would fit on this list, too, but they are already a part of their own religion that they might have chosen regardless of whether they were Force sensitive or not and I am choosing to respect that). Bix Calleen and Brasso from Andor. Greez from the Cal Kestis games maybe. And there's probably more that I am missing.

But the point I am making here is that none of these characters (bar Sabine in the Ahsoka show) are ever assumed to be Jedi. I don't think a SINGLE fan would ever try to argue with me that they ARE Jedi. And obviously it does not make any of them less interesting or enjoyable as characters to not be Jedi.

So if you're going to come at me with the accusation "How boring do you have to be to think the only reason the Jedi are interesting is because they're Force sensitive" then my rebuttal is this: Do you think all of the non-Jedi characters in Star Wars AREN'T interesting because they don't bear the title of Jedi? Does Sabine Wren suddenly become MORE interesting of a character when she's (theoretically) the exact same character, but now she gets to call herself a Jedi? Would Bodhi Rook or Brasso suddenly be more interesting characters if they called themselves Jedi but nothing else about them changed?

How boring do YOU have to be to think that the only interesting characters in Star Wars are those who call themselves Jedi? Personally, I really love that there are all of these characters out there with a bunch of different narrative paths open to them specifically because they AREN'T Jedi. Cassian Andor, Luthen Rael, Saw Gerrera, and Mon Mothma get to be REALLY intricate and morally ambiguous characters specifically because they are not Jedi at all. All the characters I listed above get to be these really lovely heroes for the little guy that showcase that you don't need to have cosmic powers and a laser sword and a fancy title to make a difference. There's a whole sort-of underlying side story within some of these stories about how the galaxy relied on the Jedi to solve all of their problems and how they're forced to step up and defend themselves for once after the Jedi are destroyed, leading to the introduction of all of these non-Force sensitive heroes, some more grey than others.

The Jedi are beacons of hope within the narrative, a model of selfless compassion to constantly strive towards. They are characters who consistently become their best selves through hard work and dedication. This is one of the MANY reasons I love them so much.

But I ALSO love that there are characters who AREN'T Jedi, characters who have no additional cosmic powers or knowledge, and have to figure out how to make the right choice instead of the easy choice ANYWAY, even when it's hard, even when it requires sacrifice. I love stories about the little people in the galaxy learning how to step up and emulate the Jedi when the Jedi are no longer there to be a bulwark between them and their own darkness. The beautiful tragedy of this entire side story lies in the galaxy learning the lessons the Jedi were trying so hard to teach them only after the Jedi themselves are gone due to the galaxy's selfishness. This is the bed the galaxy made for itself and now they have to lie in it. But they do! Eventually, person by person, they do.

And eventually, after many many years, just like their selfishness bore consequences, their selfless efforts also ultimately bring rewards in the form of the Jedi returning. And it's only once the Jedi and the people of the galaxy start fighting TOGETHER, the way they were always supposed to, that they're able to defeat the darkness. THAT'S the story. The Jedi and the people of the galaxy are in a symbiotic relationship with each other, a theme that doesn't work if you go for the concepts where everyone gets to be a Jedi. The Jedi are a specific group of people, they are the Force made manifest, they are beacons of hope, they are an ideal to work towards. This doesn't work with the "Jedi can also be people without Force sensitivity" or "everyone has Force sensitivity" concepts. It just doesn't.

So of course there are plenty of characters who aren't Force sensitive who follow Jedi philosophies or act in a way the Jedi would approve of. These people are the ones choosing to be in balance with the Jedi, which in turn is what brings balance to the entire galaxy.

If this interpretation of Star Wars and the Jedi comes off as boring to you, then, well, that sounds like a you problem and you're more than welcome to find a different corner of fandom to go spend time in and leave me to my corner.

[flightfoot]

any recs for fics with blood and/or violence?

Huh, yeah those aren't super common for Miraculous. I've still got some stuff for you though! As per usual, I'm sticking to completed stories.

---

Symbiotic Whiskers by B1ackout

Adrien Agreste aka Cat Noir was given the cat ring miraculous to help Ladybug in protecting Paris. But something had found him first, a silent companion that granted him strength and power he never knew existed. Bonded with a symbiote, Cat Noir faces Paris alongside Ladybug without even knowing that someone left a magical ring in his room. (Canon Divergence)

This is a phenomenal fic that deserves more attention. It's kind of funny how he just goes "hey I've got superpowers, she says that the thing we have that gives superpowers is called the Black Cat Miraculous and that the being that gives them is called a kwami, obviously that must be what I have!" though that gets stretched more and more as Adrien's experiences with the symbiote contradict what he's heard about how kwamis work, and Tikki gets increasingly worried about "Plagg's" weird behavior. It's a dark, somewhat brutal fic (people die permanently, and they're not always villains), and it's absolutely worth a read, this is an excellent crossover!

---

A Small but Stubborn Fire by @cardiac-agreste

What if you were the parent of a teenage superhero, but didn't know they were? All you know is the nightmares, the panic attacks, and the bruises. She's missing school, she's disappearing on you, and she's not telling you anything. So you assume the worst: Assault. Depression. A permanent rift in the family. And what do you do when you realize you weren't thinking dark enough? Because your fourteen-year old daughter is the hero who flirts with death on the nightly news. -- Come inside and read about one mother's struggles to raise her daughter in a dangerous world while avoiding the mistakes her own mother made with her.

This is a more serious take on the consequences of Hawk Moth's war on Paris, with actual bloody, painful deaths as a consequence of many akumas, and Parisians developing PTSD because of what they've gone through. Ladybug can fix all the physical scars, but not the mental ones, including her own.

I love the focus on Sabine here. She's not just presented as being a mom - though of course that IS an important role she has. But she's explored as a character in her own right, one with a lot of emotional baggage as a result of her abusive mother, and trying to not fall into her mistakes, but sometimes doing so anyway out of fear for Marinette's safety. She's a really fleshed out, humanly flawed character, sometimes admitting that she would do something selfish if it means protecting the people she cares most about, like her daughter, even if its at others expense. She grows and changes a lot throughout the course of the story, her perspective on many matters changing multiple times as a result of getting new information or seeing the consequences of her previous approaches, and adjusting as a result.

If you want a fic that more realistically explores the dark consequences of Miraculous's setting, that fleshes out Sabine, or just develops a character in a complex way, then I highly recommend you check "A Small but Stubborn Fire" out!

---

Made Miracles series by InkyIbis

A rewrite of Miraculous Ladybug (specifically with the miraculouses lore) with endgame Adrino! It mostly builds off the beginning canon and loosely off the later seasons with a lot more consequences than what the show has for when a magical terrorist shows up out of the blue. In that way, each book is considered like a season with the chapters being the episodes.

First fic in the series: Awaken

The previously white butterfly, now oozing black and purple as a conduit of the butterfly miraculous powers, flutters softly within the silvered-gloved hand. It sits there for a long time. "Go, my akuma," The soft sigh pushes the butterfly, the akuma, out towards the despair of a love not returned. The same ache within his chest. On a level so great that he's willing to sacrifice the city to mend it. It's okay if he's the villain for now. He'll force the miraculous of creation and destruction to be revealed, and once he gets his hands on them, none of this pain, none of his loss, will ever happen.

I put the first fic on my reclist for 2023, and now that the series is completed, I'm putting the whole thing on my reclist for 2024. If you want a rewrite of the series that gives Adrien top-billing, evens out Ladybug's and Chat Noir's power dynamic, is darker, and has Adrino as the main ship, then this series should be right up your alley.

---

the monster who loves you by @purplecatghostposts

Mum nods, clapping her hands together. “Your brother is finally feeling better and is coming home today! Isn’t that so exciting?” Félix pauses mid-bite, processing her words. Mum waits expectantly, as if expecting him to jump for joy, or his equivalent of it. But… Félix doesn’t have a brother. (Or Félix’s brother is a monster, but only in the most literal sense. Félix’s father is a monster despite being very, very human. He learns to navigate the world through these two truths.)

I loved how this story emphasized the differences between different kinds of monsters - the type who inhabit horror stories, who look terrifying, and the mundane, human sorts of monsters who are often the most dangerous. And how monsters can choose to act humanely, while humans can choose to act monstrously.

---

Finding A Way by @uptoolateart

Collège is nearly over! And what better way to celebrate than a class trip to Costa Rica? But with only a month left to tell Adrien she loves him, Marinette is feeling the pressure. Then – an accident at sea leaves them stranded together on a tropical island…alone. Or are they? Because those footprints in the sand don’t resemble any bird they’ve seen before. And what’s that roaring sound coming from the jungle? ‘Adrien…where ARE we??’ ***** A Jurassic Park / Camp Cretaceous AU that’s been kicking around in my head for over a year

I love the sense of danger permeating this fic, it really feels like Adrien and Marinette are stranded on Jurassic Park (well it's called something else in order to integrate it better into the ML universe, but it operates like Jurassic Park). They're making the best of it though, doing their best to survive - and along the way, getting closer together.

I like that it's not JUST them though, Gabriel and Nathalie find out where they ended up pretty early on and go to rescue them, with Alya and Nino stowing away. It was cool to see that side of things as well.

Oh yeah, this fic is rated M for violence and gore. It's because dinosaurs eat people alive and leave their body parts everywhere. If you can handle the Jurassic Park movie (or presumably the book the movie was based on, but I haven't read that), then you should be just fine.

---

one does not love breathing by @wackus-bonkus-maximus

All of Paris watched as Hawkmoth murdered Chat Noir, taking the Black Cat Miraculous for himself. Ladybug swears revenge, but her enemy—and every miraculous in his possession—disappear without a trace.

Six years later, a new team of villains launches an attack for the last remaining Miraculous: Volpina, armed with new powers; Queen Bee, with questionable loyalty; Argos, the new holder of the Peacock Miraculous; and Cat Walker, who Ladybug hates the most.

Takes place after S4 - Strike Back.

This is a simply phenomenal fic. You get to explore a lot of different perspectives, like Felix, Kagami, Marinette, and Adrien’s, just to name a few, and see their different thought processes and plans and priorities, and how it can cause their plans to collide with each other, even when they all ultimately are aiming for a good outcome for everyone. The characters are pretty complex and can mess up at times, even when they’re doing things (or not doing things, looking at you Luka) with the best of intentions. It was a joy to read and a real nail-biter the whole time, I actually wrote a fic for it halfway through just to resolve some of the tension for myself, One Does Not Love Shadows.

It also features the version of Luka I’ve connected best with to date, as he feels like Luka, but also is a lot more fleshed out, and can make some major errors while simply trying to avoid missteps. It’s helped me get a better handle on a character who I’ve generally had a lot of problems with really understanding.

It is an M-rated fic, though I think Wackus is being overly cautious on that front. There’s no sexual content and I wouldn’t put the violence or gore above a T-rating, so I wouldn’t let the rating scare you off.

---

Some Days by @merrygreenie

Some days are worse, and others are a little better, little by little and day by day. Marinette Dupain-Chen is learning how to live her new normal after living in confinement and being tortured by Hawkmoth. She is thankful to have her friends and family to support her. And a very special Chat who loves her very much. *This story contains scenes of violence and torture this is a whump fic*

---

A Major Test Of Strength by @nemaliwrites

There is only one thing in Paris hated as much as the akumas: Ladybug herself. In an effort to help the Savior of Paris, Adrien winds up on the wrong end of an akuma attack — only to find himself stuck reliving the same day. With enough time, anyone can be a hero, and as he continues dying over and over, he is forced to confront the idea that these loops may be just as much of a blessing as they are a curse.

This is loosely inspired by “All You Need Is Kill”, but no knowledge of that manga is needed to understand the story. There’s a bit of a mystery element going on as Adrien tries to figure out why he keeps dying even when he takes steps to prevent it, how he keeps coming back, and what the deal is with Ladybug, anyway.

---

The Most Dangerous Game by talik_sanis

Marinette never imagined that she would be in this position. It's not that all of her friends turned against her as Lila had assured her they would. Instead, she had turned against all of her so-called "friends." And now, she has to help Lila Rossi murder them.

The fact that I, of all people, would recommend a fic with a summary like this should tell you something... read to the end.

[never-ending-fanfic]

Hey

Remember this post?

Here's the promised inside of this "get well soon" card

🤎 Dark brown: "For Alex"

💜 Purple: "Can't wait for you to wake up. Miss having you around" with hearts and the Fulcrum symbol, signed by Sabine and Rex in navy 💙

💛 Yellow: "Kick that coma in the ass" with a heart, signed with a stamp of Chopper's wheel

💚 Green: "You're in all our thoughts and we all hope you come home soon" with flowers and hearts from Hera and Kanan

🧡 Orange: "I don't normally do that, but I'll take all your turns of washing dishes that you miss until you feel better. Please, wake up soon" signed by "Jabba" with sun, clouds, Loth-cat head, stars and the drawing of their ship, signed "Ghost" and added purple "No." from Sabine

❤️ Red: "Since you've been away, we've all realized how much you actually do around here. Please heal up quick!" with a sign from Cassian, with a heart and smiley face

💚 Dark green: "Please, just wake up" from Zeb with a heart

[illuminatedquill]

Short Story Summary: Hera Syndulla arrives at Sabine and Ezra's comm tower to drop off the first print editions of their personal trading cards.

*For @alphaofdarkness and @jedi-nurse who inspired this with their conversations on the Discord server. Hope you like it.

Lothal, Early Morning - Sabine and Ezra's Comm Tower

The characteristic soft chime that played whenever someone was waiting below in the comm tower's courtyard alerted Ezra to their guest's presence. Setting down the data-pad he had been browsing through for the Holo-Net's daily news, he stood and walked over to a nearby monitor at the security station that had been recently installed by Sabine as a precaution.

After all, the last time a guest had arrived she had ended up with a lightsaber stabbed through her abdomen. It was not an experience she wished to repeat again.

Shooing a curious Murley off the console, he pushed a button. The monitor's screen lit up, showing the crisp image of the tower's courtyard - and the familiar face of their guest.

Smiling, he spoke into the intercom. "Hello, Hera."

The green-skinned Twi'lek smiled back and waved at the camera. Seeing her face, practically the same since he had first seen it over a decade ago, always filled Ezra with a sense of warmth and comfort. Hera had been a steady friend, mentor, and surrogate mother to him during the hectic early days of the Rebellion. She was the eternal bedrock of the Spectres, the foundation from which all of them had built their new lives upon.

He noted the casual outfit she wore today: not her usual flight uniform, but a fashionable beige sport jacket, dark brown tunic, slim, high waisted pants, complete with comfortable walking boots. Grasped in her hands was a slim, non-descript wooden case.

"Retirement looks good on you, General," he remarked.

Hera snorted. "Semi-retirement. I was practically forced into it by Leia. She was very insistent."

"It's well-deserved," he replied. "And long overdue."

"And boring," she retorted. "I need structure, Ezra. A mission."

He laughed. "So, you're hiring yourself out as a delivery service now?"

She scowled at him. "Gotta do something. I'm still helping people, at least."

"And not getting shot at or participating in dog fights with pirates is presumably a benefit, as well," Ezra added.

"Eh," she said, waving a careless hand. "I kind of miss it, sometimes."

Hera peered up at the camera. "Are you going to let me up or we just going to chit-chat like this all day? I've got other places to be, you know."

Ezra grinned and let her in.

The slim wooden case lay open on the worktable, revealing the contents within. Ezra peered over it, taking in the sight of what Hera had brought.

She sipped at a caf, a special blend of Hera's favorite flavors. "Thanks for this," she said gratefully.

"Of course," Ezra responded. He picked up one of the items within the wooden case and observed it more closely: a trading card, thin and metallic. With a sense of bemusement, he inspected the image of himself on it, conforming to what he had perceived at the time of the photoshoot to be a "heroic" pose: his lightsaber activated and held in a basic guard position.

There was at least a dozen more of these contained within the wooden case.

"Where's Sabine?" Hera asked.

Ezra nodded towards the section of the comm tower's interior, where the master bedroom was located. "Sleeping in. She just returned from Mandalore late last night."

"Busy days for her, huh," Hera said.

Ezra shrugged, still eyeing the trading card in his hand. "Bo needs her to keep the clans in line."

He shook his head. "I can't believe these are actually real. A Jedi on a trading card."

"Hey, don't knock it," Hera said. "Skywalker's got a bunch, too."

Ezra's eyes widened. "Luke? How did the New Republic convince him to do this?"

"Same way we did with you. He had similar concerns: that Jedi shouldn't be involved in this sort of publicity, even with benevolent intentions," Hera explained. She paused to take a brief sip of her caf before continuing. "To counter this, the government pitched that it was for historical purposes. It was a good way to get the young ones across the galaxy up to date with knowledge of galactic affairs and the people who shaped them."

He blinked, remembering the exact same explanation being given to him. "It's a little scary that they found a way to trick Jedi into this."

Hera shrugged. "You're both history nerds. And there's no harm in giving the kids heroes to root for. I think you both appreciate that fact."

Ezra studied the cards some more, smiling a little. Living as an orphan on the streets of Imperial controlled Lothal, he would have given anything to have a fun side hobby like that.

"Leia, her husband Han, Skywalker, and Lando all have their own trading cards, too," Hera commented. She reached down and plucked a card from within the wooden case. "Everyone in the Ghost crew, also. Me, Zeb, Kanan - even Chopper."

Ezra snorted. He glanced over at the trading card Hera was holding, this one featuring Sabine. She was wearing one of her go-to civilian outfits, her head encased in a speeder-bike helmet. The characteristic Sabine Wren smirk was also in vivid display, along with one other feature that immediately caught his attention.

He frowned. "That can't be recent," he said. "When did she grow out her hair?"

Hera turned to him, surprised. "Right," she said. "You weren't here to see that."

She offered him the trading card. Ezra took it, gazing softly down at the image of his wife.

"She's beautiful," was all he could say. He had only ever seen Sabine with short hair, a necessity with her Mandalorian helmet. Even when she had come to rescue him on Peridea, Sabine had worn a short pixie-style cut. Ezra had assumed that had been her style the entire time he had been gone.

The deep purple he remembered from Peridea was present, but it blended beautifully with the longer locks of burning red. It reminded him of the gouts of flame bursting forth he had seen in paintings of dying stars; the effect of her dye colors presented the look of pure starfire flowing down her shoulders.

"Yeah, Sabine had these done a while ago," Hera confirmed.

"But they're just being released now?" Ezra asked. "Why?"

She sighed. "It took quite a bit of convincing for Sabine to acquiesce to this decision. You know how she is with public facing stuff like this."

Ezra winced, imagining the conversations between Sabine and the New Republic officials to be short and one-sided. Despite her brash exterior, he knew his wife to be an immensely private person, preferring to keep out of the public eye.

"I finally got her to agree, but Sabine would only do it on two conditions: first, that she would have a say in how the cards were designed. If her face was going to be on them, she wanted to ensure that the cards were artistically up to her standards."

Ezra smiled slightly. Sounds like her, he thought. Art was Sabine's first love, before she met him. She would want to make sure that the artwork showcased on the trading cards was befitting of the heroes they featured.

"What was the second condition?" he asked.

Hera cocked her head at him, her eyes suddenly wistful. "That her trading cards would only be sold as a set, not to be separated for any reason."

Ezra's brow furrowed. "She wanted her card to be permanently paired up with another?"

"Yes, Ezra," said Hera quietly. "Yours."

His eyes widened at the revelation.

"That's why hers are only being released now," continued Hera. "She was waiting for you."

Ezra was silent, looking over the cards: his and Sabine's, paired together.

Not to be separated for any reason.

He coughed, trying to clear the sudden lump in his throat. Hera clapped him on the shoulder.

"I think they look better together," she observed wryly. "Don't you?"

Ezra smiled; his eyes were moist with emotion. "Yeah," he agreed. "They do."

Sabine wandered out of the bedroom a little after mid-day. Her hair was sticking up on one end; eyes still bleary from the long sleep, she shuffled over to the couch and sat down next to Ezra.

"Had a good sleep?" he asked her.

She laid her head onto his shoulder. "Mmmmm. First soft bed in weeks. Heavenly isn't strong enough to describe it."

He kissed her head softly. "Is Mandalore still doing alright? No one's gunning for another civil war? "

"Yeah, clan meeting went nice and smoothly," she replied drowsily. "Boring."

Ezra chuckled, strongly reminded of Hera's same response earlier this morning.

"Sounds like progress," he mused.

She shifted her head on his shoulder, moving into a more comfortable position. "Heard you talking with someone. Was it Hera?"

He nodded. Sabine grimaced. "You should have woken me up, goober."

"You were tired. Hera didn't mind. Said she'll call later, to catch up with you."

Sabine didn't argue back, which was an indication of just how exhausted she still was. "What did she want?"

Ezra produced from his pocket the trading cards. "She was dropping these off."

His wife sneaked a glance at them and let out a surprised breath. "Karabast," she muttered. "I forgot these were a thing."

"Freshly minted, first edition," he bragged. "Super rare and valuable, I'm told."

She snorted. "Whatever. We should sell them and buy tickets to a star cruise."

Setting the cards down on the worktable, Ezra grinned and hugged his wife close. "I'm also told," he said gently, "that ours are not to be sold separately."

Sabine went quiet.

He reached over and laced his hand in hers. "It's very thoughtful of you," he whispered. "Thank you."

She squeezed his hand back. "We're a package deal, Ezra. I don't want anyone separating us ever again. Even in something as silly as trading cards."

[gffa]

Hi Lumi. This year I’ve watched The Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian, Book of Boba Fett, and Tales of the Jedi and I’m watching Ahsoka as episodes are released. But I feel like I’m missing some context as to why people are wary of Filoni. What things should I know so I’m caught up, so to speak, in the fandom discussions?

Hi! That's a lot of Star Wars to watch in a year, I hope you're having fun with it all! And I will gently remind everyone that Filoni is not the be-all-end-all of Star Wars creators--Henry Gilroy was there for TCW and Rebels, too. George Lucas was holding writers' meetings years after the show started (at least into 2010!). The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett are far more Jon Favreau's shows. The Bad Batch is Brad Rau and Jennifer Corbett. Resistance was developed by him, but was run by other producers. It's just that Filoni tends to get the most camera time and has become the face of Star Wars creators. That said, the issue with Filoni is kind of two-pronged, though, they overlap. 1. He's done a lot of interviews where he's said a lot of anti-Jedi things that have drifted from reasonable critiques in the beginning to eventually "Qui-Gon Jinn was the only true Jedi. [blatantly wrong citations]" This has put a lot of people off him as a creator, because we love the Jedi Order that Lucas talks about and established, which Filoni has actively contradicted over the years, despite being promoted as someone who follows Lucas' themes. And it's hard not to be aware of his interviews when watching his shows and it's hard to enjoy shows that do your faves dirty, you know? 2. His writing has become weaker over the years for a lot of us--Rebels is a show most of us love and found to be incredible. Many of us really love The Clone Wars, which he was heavily involved in/was probably the central voice after Lucas started phasing out. But his biggest story told over the course of those series--basically, the story of Mandalore's history and fall to the Empire--has been extremely thin for a lot of us. And a lot of us get frustrated at his inability to be objective when it comes to Ahsoka's character, that we love her as a character very much, but it hasn't felt like Filoni really knows what to do with her character arc and yet almost everything he writes is centered around her. His final season of The Clone Wars? Gave her the walkabout arc and the Siege of Mandalore arc, both of which often did not hold up well under scrutiny. His episode of The Book of Boba Fett? I actually really loved it, but it absolutely just stopped the pacing of that show to focus a lot on her. More on Luke, but he couldn't resist putting her in there, either. Tales of the Jedi was half devoted to Ahsoka and so much of it wasn't even about her time as a Jedi! We're frustrated because he doesn't set things up well anymore--Morgan Elsbeth is a Nightsister?? Why wasn't that established in The Mandalorian instead of pulling out randomly in Ahsoka? Why does Sabine Wren suddenly so badly want Jedi training, when they barely even had a conversation in Rebels?? There's a lot of good that Filoni has given to Star Wars, I think he genuinely cares about the Force and what it means--he's very consistent on how it's not easy and how it takes discipline and control, that he has been consistent on how anger and fear are paths to the dark side, even his episode of TBOBF had Ahsoka saying, yeah, attachment is a path to the dark side, because the Jedi mean "attachment" in a more Buddhist-aligned way. A lot of his writing for the character of Ahsoka is actually pretty good, like I've been enjoying her being a prickly, traumatized hot mess in the show! It's just that I kind of hate all the interviews he gives and I think he's a lot less objective than a lot of fans and media coverage that would hold him up as a perfect writer/interviewee about all things Star Wars, and it all comes together to make him kind of a hot-button topic.

So, a lot of people LOVE Filoni's work, a lot of people are frustrated by it, a lot of people are casually fine about it, a lot of people HATE Filoni's work and it can be a fun mix of any of the above or even other issues that come up. (And that's all fine! I have my views on Filoni's work, but it's fine if others hate it more than I do or love it more than I do, there's room for us all, all of it is valid.)

But I think if you want to understand some of the roots of this corner of fandom's frustration, two (admittedly long as heck) homework assignment reads would be:

- My own rebuttal to Dave's behind the scenes Mandalorian Gallery talk (this is jokingly referred to as "Davegate" because I refused to take it too seriously) - @david-talks-sw's collection of comparisons between Lucas' commentary on the Jedi and Filoni's commentary on the Jedi

This response itself is more focused on laying out the problems a lot of people have with Filoni's writing, but also honestly I still have my giant collection of Jedi source material citations that quotes his commentary, I still bring up Filoni's quotes in current meta a lot, I still talk positively about the things I enjoy from his shows, so overall there's equal amounts of both praise and criticism here. So, as short as I can make it (which isn't very, shut up, I know! XD), that's basically what people mean when they say they're wary of Filoni.

[bikananjarrus]

a couple notes:

this is a list for jedi master-padawan duos; might do another poll later for sith/dark-side master-padawan duos. but for now, keeping it light side!

i picked major master-padawan duos, ones that are going to be most recognizable from the movies/tv shows/video games.

(so i didn't really include duos from the books, but please feel free to choose the other option and tell me about them!)

i also tried to pick the duos that i feel had more of a connection (or more content). for example: both obiwan and yoda taught luke, but luke's more significant master was yoda, which is why luke and obiwan is not an option. same with leia and rey. i felt that leia spent more time (albeit off-screen) teaching rey than luke did.

lastly: these are NOT meant to be ships!! please keep things platonic!!

have fun!! 💜

(p.s. i'm sure there will be questions about "what about ahsoka and sabine??" well. yes, i tried to pick "major" master-padawan duos, and technically they could be considered that. but this is still my poll and i don't like the sabine padawan storyline so i didn't include it lol. if you have been around my blog for a while this will not be a surprise)

[satinekryzeweek]

It's super exciting to see a character focus week that isn't ship centric or doesn't feel unwelcoming to smaller, usually queen ships, or alternative headcanons that don't fit Canon or main stream fanon.

(If you know you know)

Satine has grown on me entirely because of friends though I'm still learning all the related lore.

The Mandalorian women like Satine, Ursa, Bo, the Armorer and Sabine are some of favorite characters so I'd love to see more about her. (Are there any Satine or even Bo books? Comics? Anything?!)

I wish everyone luck and hope to see more Satine content in Jan!

Hi Revan,

We're happy to see Satine love growing!

The good and bad news regarding Satine Kryze: there isn't much canon content for her out there. It's sad because we would all love to know more about her character, but at the same time, minimal backstory means there is a lot of room for everyone to develop their own complex fanon lore.

To help everyone prepare for Satine Kryze Week, we've put together a collection of official Star Wars content and fan made resources that feature her! The list is quite long, so we've put it under the cut to spare everyone's dash.

OFFICAL PUBLICATIONS (CANON & LEGENDS)

1. The Comprehensive Guide to the Star Wars Galaxy (2024) Contains data entries for almost every character featured in Star Wars. This book will be released on November 19.

2. Star Wars: Timelines (2023) Briefly discusses the Mandalorian Civil Wars, the events of Master & Apprentice, and the Siege of Mandalore.

3. The Clone Wars: Character Encyclopedia (2021) Features multiple pages of Satine and Bo-Katan Kryze.

4. Star Wars: Battles that Changed the Galaxy (2021) Details multiple battles and wars involving the Mandalore system, including those that occurred during Satine's life.

5. The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark (2020) Two short stories briefly mention Satine Kryze. Dark Vengeance: The True Story of Darth Maul and His Revenge Against the Jedi Known as Obi-Wan Kenobi and Kenobi's Shadow.

6. Master & Apprentice (2019) A novel that covers Obi-Wan's time as a padawan under Qui-Gon Jinn, with mentions to their shared time on Mandalore with Satine.

7. Rise of the Separatists (2019) Era sourcebook for Fantasy Flight Games' Star Wars roleplaying game system, covering the first half of the Clone Wars.

8. Collapse of the Republic (2019) Era sourcebook for Fantasy Flight Games' Star Wars roleplaying game system, covering the second half of the Clone Wars.

9. Star Wars: Women of the Galaxy (2018) Art of Satine on her throne is included, and a new version comes out April 2025.

10. Star Wars Propaganda: A History of Persuasive Art in the Galaxy (2016) Includes art related to the Neutral Systems and Mandalore.

11. Star Wars: Galactic Atlas (2016) Multiple pages dedicated to Mandalore's history.

12. Darth Maul - Son of Dathomir 3 (2014) Comic that covers Maul's time on Mandalore, brief references to Satine.

13. The Bounty Hunter Code (2013) Contains the Death Watch Manifesto at the end, which includes Legends/Expanded Universe Mandalorian lore.

FAN MADE RESOURCES

1. @fox-trot They have done an incredible job archiving the best bits of published Mandalorian lore from across all SW media! We highly recommend her mandalorian tag.

2. @supertaliart They put together an amazing guide on Mandalorian language and culture! If you're a visual learner, it's perfect for you.

3. @ranahan This account has poured hours of love and time into compiling every piece of information they can on Mando'a. Check out their masterlist for a complete breakdown on the language.

Thank you for making it to the end of this list! It's far from complete or comprehensive, but we hope it helps. If anyone else has resources they'd like to share or books they would recommend, feel free to share in the comments below 💙

Can't wait for the event (January 27-31 2025) to celebrate Satine with all of you! For anyone who missed it, check out our Rules and About for more information too 🌸 We'll be sharing older fandom works featuring Satine leading up to to the week using #pre event showcase as well!

[caffeinatedmunchkin]

Hanging By A Thread

Rating: M Characters/Pairings: Astarion/Tav(Sabine)

Genre: Romance, Fluff Word Count: 9k Summary: Enjoying his new life as an accomplished, highly-sought after tailor, Astarion loses himself in his work as Liar's Night dawns, and with it, sees him his busiest yet. In effort to garner the forgiveness that she neither expects, nor demands, he presents Sabine with a gift - as well as the opportunity for proper closeness. The first they've had in well over a week. Post game.

Writing for post-game events before I've even started act 3 is really giving major; "she doesn't even go here." but here I am all the same! I've been seeing a lot of tailor!astarion art and man oh man did it inspire. As a woman who grew up with two other women, but whose father was the one who acted as household tailor, this side of Astarion is one I'm particularly endeared to. This was so inevitable. Pretty please channel some of that suspension of disbelief over the fact that, for the sake of this story, some of spawn Astarion's vampire side-effects have been inexplicably curved. The man deserves to see himself in a mirror alright he's pretty. What started as a pretty simple, cut and dry idea was very quick to grow very out of hand. I did my best to keep up! So without further ado, please enjoy!

There's also a little throw back in the beginning to my oneshot, very mild, blink and you'll miss it. Shameless plug here.

Posted to both FF & AO3

Tagged: @chaoticbardlady99 as per request!

~

Caught in a pocket of dewy, early morning light, his fair skin seemed to glow with shimmering translucence at the suns behest. A celebration of his ethereality. The cerise of his eyes glinted in kind beneath the rays, endless as they were intent.

They fixed to her with sanguine scintillation that communicated just how great his anticipation. A stark contrast to the assured brows that hooded them, and the confident set to his lax jaw.

Astarion kept his gaze on Sabine steady, while hers was occupied by the long, flat box he had just presented to her. Splayed in her lap, the lid was held in place by a fine lace bow.

Her suspicion piqued, it was now aimed at the gift, as opposed to the gifter, who openly delighted in the girlish furrow of her brow, and how her dainty fingers unraveled the ribbon with the utmost care.

Taking the time to discard the length of it in a neat pile beside her hip, it was almost comical how large in comparison the package was to her petite stature. One side propped against her crossed leg, while the far end had nowhere else to rest, but in the vacant space of the Méridienne chaise beside where she nestled.

The half-elf had been summoned to the study early that morning, which had been a cause for confusion in it's own right.

His study, that had been outfitted as a work-space. And one that had already been booked solid straight through until early evening.

That detail alone clued her into the nature of the gift, having called her in and sat her down in the very chaise that usually saw his patrons. An ornate piece of plush velvet, cream upholstery, and polished mahogany stained so dark it presented black in the absence of light. A crane was carved out along the backing, it's slender neck stretched backward, and a single of its wings unfurled to full span.

Astarion was quick to amass a steady, loyal clientele of the affluent and respectable, of which regularly filed in and out of the very room she now joined him in. Most were the young sons and daughters, or nieces and nephews of aristocrats that kept him busy with a never-ending parade of gowns and suits alike. Scheduling their fittings for the next even quicker than the last, not a second thought nor semblance of hesitancy towards monopolizing his time and attention.

Young and pretty things that Sabine did her level best not to fall jealous of. His glib drawing their squeaks of laughter, flitting and muffled through the shut door. The cloying aroma of their perfume suffocating the presence of his own, as it clung to his body with a possessive claim of which they had no right to stake.

A festering negligence, as their needs kept him preoccupied from her own.

Measured with more patience even still, she pried the edges of the lid up, only to halt with a startled gasp as she finally laid eyes on what awaited her inside. All previous intrusions of the brazenly flirtatious youth, and unjustified jealousy scattered like roaches exposed to sudden, brilliant light.

"Astarion," she stole his name with a breath she didn't have - a breath he had succeeded in taking - and he chuckled in triumph. Her tone suggested an astonishment corroborated by her wide eyes, ripping them away with great effort to settle on his frame as it lounged in the doorway. His little half-elf wasn't often at a loss for words, and he preened at the achievement. "I don't... I don't know what to say."

Her humble beginnings and modest upbringing made her easy to spoil. An opportunity he indulged whenever it presented.

"A simple 'thank you' will do." Drawled with exaggerated femininity in effort to mimic her own, Sabine rolled her eyes in spite of the grin she failed to bite back.

"And a simple 'thank you' would be an immense disservice to the proper appreciation you're owed."

"Perhaps alone it might. Who's suggesting your gratitude's to end there?" The doorway continuing to prop him up, his smile widened as he watched her.

Careful fingers stroked the fabric, as if seeking to assure herself with the proof of physical contact. With an almost guilty curl of her lips, the deep ruby gown inlaid with coordinating crystal refused to surrender her attention.

She yielded to it, her murmur thoughtful while she continued to bask in it's material decadence. "Not you, of course."

Pushing off the beam that he shouldered, he joined her, situating himself on the sloped arm to peer from over the top of her head. Setting down the lid to her other side, both hands then ventured inside the box, though not without hesitation. Tracing along the pattern of flowered embellishment, she couldn't see the smug set to his jaw behind her, but it could be heard within his explanation.

"I understand that green is the color that best suits you, but when this caught my eye - well, I could hardly resist."

He watched her in the taut silence that followed, while his little half-elf handled it with obvious unease. As if unfit to be in the presence of such finery, let alone its possession.

Astarion reached forward to corral a loose, cinnamon curl behind her ear, and the contact seemed to snap her from the trance brought upon by the blood-red, beaded organza.

"It's... beautiful." She dared to whisper, bending forward to gently set the box down at her feet, she lifted the dress up to a fuller height for more thorough admiration.

A sheer, illusion bodice with a sweetheart neck, a veritable garden of floral appliqué blossomed against the mesh panels between the corset boning.

Coaxing her eye further down to follow it's sinuous trail, it spilled over the waist, curling midway down the full skirts in a few budding tendrils. All which were adorned with the same intricate bead work. "And to what do I attribute such thoughtfulness?"

He had been able to steal away between appointments the previous afternoon, though his free time had already been consigned to picking up a few bolts of satin he had on order.

The dress was on display in the window. He decided on its purchase before he so much as reached the door.

"Need there be a reason for a man to spoil his beloved?"

She ignored the garment in her hands long enough to toss her chin over her shoulder, batting the veil of curled lashes up at him in playful skepticism.

Sabine saw right through him with those mismatched eyes of hers. She often did.

They sifted through his very depths, and never flinched at what they saw.

A look that cast away his darkness and loathing. Leaving room for truth alone, in the presence of her light that refused to be shirked.

It was a look he had found himself on the receiving end of from their very beginning.

One he was so endeared to, he couldn't imagine now having to be without.

With a sigh of surrender he reached for her, capturing her chin in a pinch of his thumb, and curled index finger. "Surely you don't suspect all my gestures are plagued by ulterior motive." His head cocked in punctuation.

"Just the grand and the romantic." She melted in his hold, her gentle accusation teasing her lips apart in a flourishing simper that would put a freshly bloomed tulip to shame.

He bridged the gap to place a kiss to her hairline. With their closeness, he breathed her in deep, finding comfort in the reliability of her smell. A heady bouquet of jasmine, violet, lily that trailed through the halls, and stained their bed linens.

"Darling, you insult me." He was able to keep his rumbling croon even despite the constricting in his chest. "Though truth be told, I had thought it might serve you well tomorrow evening."

The evening in question none other than a lavish Liar's Night celebration, hosted by one of his associates.

Sabine had more or less decided on her attire for the occasion. He had already gifted her a lovely velvet gown, pigmented such a deep phthalo it almost shimmered midnight if the lighting was generous. Paired with a delicate mask for around her eyes, she assumed that adequate, if not wanting for creativity. Astarion, it seemed, had something more specific in mind.

With the dawning holiday, he had seen a larger influx of demand for his skill than he was accustomed. This took him away from his little sorceress. His afternoons and evenings blurred past distinction, one day bleeding into the next, once he had lost track.

Some nights he'd glimpse her just before she turned in. Sabine hated to disturb him more than he hated to be disturbed. Yet if the hour was late enough, and he wasn't in the company of a client, she'd slip into his study with hot tea, and a kiss goodnight. Like ships passing in the night, she was there and gone again. Having left behind only the tea, and a cloud of violet to know where she once had been.

He appreciated her attentiveness, but above all he longed for her companionship.

Companionship he craved more and more the longer he was made to go without. Her nearness. And for it to linger for longer than it took her to bring him the occasional treat.

He caught himself daydreaming often of nuzzling into her bosom, leeching her body-heat, and stilling himself to the mesmeric beat of her heart. To lean into the gentle scrap of her nails against his scalp like a hound shamelessly chasing the itch his owner scratched.

He was still only a man, after all.

He meant it when he confessed his hopes that she'd wear the gown to accompany him, hanging off his arm and adorned in his colors. But more than that, it was to be recompense for her neglect.

Neglect, to her credit, that she bore with patience, and grace.

The same could not be said for him. He missed her terribly.

The previous evening he wanted nothing more than to be able to slip into bed alongside her, pull her close, and indulge. A possibility that would have been feasible, had he been tangled with any other client than the one that concluded his night.

A young elven baron he had only serviced once before. An appointment, he perhaps, had been a little too accommodating during. If the haste of his repeat business and persistence was any indication. His flamboyant ingratiating rivaled only by his forwardness, he disregarded Astarion's every rebuff. Whittling his strained tact away with his diminished nerve.

After all but physically hoisting him up and tossing him out the door, he was at last free to retire. Retreating to their bedroom, however, had confirmed his fear that it had come too late. Sabine had long since been received by sleep, just as he had found her every night prior for that whole agonizing tenday.

But the look that lit up the whole of her face upon glimpsing his offering made his exhaustive agenda, and having to fend off pesky, entitled nobility, well worth it.

Her smile coy, she had drawn the gown in towards her chest, clutching it as if it were most precious. "What shall I be in this, then?"

"Oh, let me think," he waved his hand in a return to theatrics, "something like the ravishing consort of an enigmatic vampire lord?" His inflection then chest deep, he leaned back in, the tip of his nose not an inch from her own with a single, arrogant brow arched. "How does that grab you?"

A lazy, haughty grin teased her with a peek of fang. Quickening the flutter of her heart, her next breath shakier for it. Reeling from the picture he painted, and it's implication.

"Exactly as you hoped, I'm sure." She couldn't help but blush.

"Alterations will need to be made, of course, and my schedule is quite full." He sighed as he studied his nails. "But I believe I can squeeze you in."

"I'm honored to receive such preferential treatment from you." She continued to cradle the gown in her lap, mindful not to crease the tulle. "Mr. Ancunín."

The playful formality in which she addressed him, emulating the fawning aristos he had fitted in that very room, bubbled a rueful growl from the pit of his chest.

He was still acclimating to his reclaimed desire. The ache in his loins and the flare in his chest for the physicality of a lover that was entirely his own.

To touch, and to want to touch again. After all that time.

The sensation of honest, unmitigated, genuine yearning, returned to him like an old friend. A face remembered, but the haze of estrangement cast uncertainty over the reunion.

For having reintroduced him to just that alone, he owed her the moon.

Most times he could take her in his arms and conduct himself as a patient, meticulous lover. Experience at his disposal, rather than a byproduct to be loathed. Other times, he was as jittery and needy as a hormonal adolescent, and laying with her felt like it was the first time for him all over again.

His body roiled in agreement of the latter. If he reached for her again, it would only end one way.

Drawing his ankle to rest atop his knee, he opted instead to clasp his hands in his lap with much restraint. Slipping into the old, familiar territory of playing the sardonic, as opposed to reducing her to naked flesh and obscene moans of his name. The memories of which tormenting him with increasing cruelty.

"A treat to be certain, and one I mind you not to presume. My services are in high demand, as I'm sure you're aware." Head tilted in arrogance, he cast a glance down the bridge of his nose at her, as wicked with mischief as his smile. "So do be gracious, and try it on for me?"

He watched as she rose to her feet, the gown cradled in her arms, finagling the length to keep it from hitting the floor.

"Don't forget your shoes." Almost patronizing, he was then all business. "Whichever pair you intend to wear, that will ultimately determine the length."

Before leaving him to change, she pushed up to her bare toes to capture his gaunt cheek in kiss. He could feel the curve of her lips as she smiled into his skin.

That small, sneaky intimacy made him snort; "schmooze." with a shake of his head. When she spun on her heel to retreat, he responded with a ludic clap of his hand to her bottom, grumbling an; "off with you now." and relished the squeak he earned.

His gaze remained fixed to her as she pranced out of his study before disappearing from sight, unable to wipe the fond smile from his mug the whole while. A willing captive to the same, self-indulgent notion she had teased out of him many times before.

If he had a working heart, every beat taken would surely belong to her.

His little half-elf didn't leave him waiting long.

Disrobing in record time, she reappeared in his studio a vision in red.

His back to her, a drawer at his desk distracted him from her return, affording her the chance to admire him from the doorway without interruption.

A white chalk pencil slotted behind his elongated ear, the sight of him so professional never failed to goad her heart to flutter like a hummingbird.

Charcoal slacks clung in accentuation of his lithe frame, his collared shirt tucked in at the waist, the buttons pulled free at his chest as per usual. Feet slipped into soft leather loafers, simplistic as they were expensive.

Always impeccable with his dress, the added details of his trade made him look all the more distinguished.

The skirts of the gown were quite long, too long for her short frame, forcing her to gather the excess into the crook of her arm as she entered to keep from tripping.

The bodice, only loosely tied at her back and not a single clasp hooked, hung limp and ill-fitting from her thin torso. Thick twin bands of matching, intricate detail looped around her biceps. Though they lacked structural practicality, they added to the gown's overall romantic appeal.

"I'm ready when you are." She announced, warring with a victorious grin of her own at his subtle double-take.

Regardless of the less than favorable way it draped her body, not yet tailored to accommodate her waifish size, Astarion halted. Pincushion in hand, the length of his measuring tape coiled around his forearm. Though the act of breathing was merely reflexive, he couldn't have even so much as mimicked it. The only hint of movement came from the sharp protrusion of his Adams apple, bobbing with a hard swallow.

The smile she angled up at him was sheepish, her chin dropping to shy away from the severity of his silent appraisal.

Two pairs of heels dangled from the ankle-straps from her other hand that she lifted up for him to see. One satin black, and the other a soft gold, her tone held a decided timid lilt.

"Which goes best, would you say?"

He smirked at how earnest she desired his input. "The black." The emphasis dripped from the tip of his tongue like liquid smoke. "As if there was any real question."

He beckoned her to join him at the chaise lounge, his smirk growing at the soft patter of her bare-feet crossing the hardwood, and the whisper of the organza shifting against the silk slip beneath.

Carefully perching on the edge of the cushion and arranging the skirts to lay modestly about her thighs, she regarded him through a half lidded gaze while he collected the preferred heels from her hold, and sank down to one knee before her.

With no more than an easy smile, and his palm outstretched for instruction, Sabine recognized his cues, and drew up one leg to slot her ankle against his waiting hand.

Astarion could feel himself swallowed by her honeyed gaze above him as he slide her foot inside the heel, her ankle pinched in his fingers like the stem of a rose. He made short work of the buckle around her ankle, the graze of his finger-tips deliciously cool and feather-light against her sun-kissed flesh. Then he was on to the other foot, leaving the first to buzz with the lingering of his phantom touches.

Though the contact to her warm flesh was incidental at best, she leaned into it all the same. Smooth, brisk, and ever attentive, each one dizzying with addiction.

Raising to his full height, he held out his hand to help her to her feet. Continuing to hold it, as he lead her the sort distance to a raised platform before an inordinately large mirror. Newly reunited and shamelessly besotted with his own reflection, that superfluity was for his benefit alone.

Guiding her up to the center, he closed in behind her, sweeping the length off her waves over her left shoulder and out of the way. She sucked in a breath as he gathered the silk laces at her back, his deft hand cinching it as tight to her body as he was able.

An additional layer of clasps remained to join the edges flush together, tucking the lacework to lay neatly underneath and out of sight. Working with just as much expert efficiency, his knuckles grazed along her erectors as he fastened the row of hook and eyes from bottom to top.

Sabine regarded her reflection in the mirror as he tied her up. Though she knew it wasn't the finished product, the cups gaped around her breasts, making her feel like a child playing dress up with an elder sisters gown.

Her chest was the antithesis of ample, and was one physical characteristic of many that caught her disapproval. She pressed it flat against herself in a more accurate representation of how the end result might look, forgetting to wipe away her frown as she did.

"There will be none of that." Having read her thoughts with the quirk of her lips, and downcast eyes, his admonishment was loving, however firm. "This neckline will flatter your bust. A compliment only made possible by an already favorable trait. And one that's proportionate to your physique, I might add."

"You're too kind." Pursing her lips against the clouding of doubt, the utterance was as soft as it was sincere.

"I'm not kind." His correction warning, the following elaboration was no less stern. "I expect you to trust my eye. I know how to dress you, my pet."

He left her to retrieve his pin cushion, before then returning to conduct his assessment of what begged his attention. Propping his elbow on the forearm he wrapped around his chest, Astarion pinched the cut of his chin. Brow furrowed in contemplation, his narrowed gaze raking over her.

His new profession was a seamless transition, one with which his acquired finesse allured her. In that moment, propped up on the dais in a pair of heels of his choosing, she felt like one of his clients. The ones she all too recently harbored ugly, infantile jealousy over.

It was her turn to embody that role, and the thrill of that proffered mystique was such she couldn't deny.

After a moment, he discarded the cushion to the ground by her feet, but not before plucking a handful of pins he stashed between his clenched teeth. Long and slender, the heads were bulbous so as to not get lost in the appliqué, and sculpted to resemble peacock feathers.

Unbuttoning his cuffs, he folded his sleeves twice to bare impressive forearms, before he set to work.

Bending at the waist, he manipulated the fabric around her body with a small scowl of focus that made her heart swell to see. A gentle pressure behind his trained hands, he was all sweeping palms and gliding finger tips. A flurry of teasing, professional touch.

Sabine couldn't help but react as his expert fingers danced across her middle, an area of her body that was riddled with sensitivity to his ministrations. If he enjoyed the way she quivered under his attention, he didn't let it show. Beholden to the duty of his work, a willing captive to concentration.

Astarion slid a cupped palm between her waist and the interior of her elbow, guiding it outward as gentle as his murmured instruction. "Hold it right here, for me. Just as you are."

He began to gather the loose mesh at her side. Palpating for her ribs before pinching off about two inches along the seam line, his other hand retrieved one of the pins from his mouth. Inserting the needle perpendicular to the fabric as he went along, and repeating the process all the way down to her waist.

Her right side completely pinned, and his mouth now vacant, he was standing back in front of her, cocking his head to the side as he surveyed his progress.

"The sides will need to be taken in a fair bit, though I expected as much." His hands snaked around her waist, finger-tips nearly joined together with her in the middle for emphasis. "Typically, the effort necessitated by the complexity of a corset is such that fashioning a new one altogether is the more practical course, but we are quite pressed for time." He then added, in afterthought. "And I do enjoy a challenge now and again."

She returned the smile weakly. "Being this small seems to be nothing but an inconvenience."

"Nonsense. I am the one who purchased this dress, after all. And I did so because I could think of none more befitting than you." Circling behind her, he gathered where the waistline was loose, and pinned it in place.

His chin fell to rest on her right shoulder. Finding her stare across from them through their mirrored image, his eye contact ruthless as he crooned to her reflection. "That aside, I like how small you are."

Her heart pounded against it's cage when he pulled away, and strode in a circle around her. Gathering her skirts as he did, he flicked his wrists in a practiced motion to fan it out to its full diameter. A salacious, full-length slit split the skirt on her right side, and allowed cool air to rush her bare legs with every whip.

Beginning behind her with a fresh set of pins fanned from his teeth, he lowered to his haunches before settling on the ground with a grunt. Astarion widened his thighs to stretch long, slender legs out to either side of her, caging her between his bent knees.

Tweaking at the skirt so that it's weight dropped to the ground, he first checked with the tips of his fingers for the points of contact where it fell level with the floor. Only then would he slot a pin in, before repeating the process all over again. Each new one approximately six inches apart from the last.

She watched first his reflection, as he gradually worked his way back in front of her, shifting his weight across the floor by his palms and heels. His regal profile angled towards the hem, his fingers darted between the top layer of tulle to ensure it was still even with the slip underneath.

On occasion, he'd un-spool the measuring tape from the crook of his elbow to reaffirm his measurements, keeping a mental tally of the spacing.

It surprised her how weak she was to the sight of him so mundane and domestic, and the tenderness rooted at the center of it all.

She hadn't realized her gaze had fallen to stare down at him crouched before her until the heady rumble of his tone sheared through their collective silence.

"First time, darling?" He teased, his eye fixed to the pin he was in the middle of inserting. A furious blush crept upwards from her neck.

She decided to play along, hushing, "What gave me away, Mr. Ancunín?"

"Your fidgeting." He tsked with impatience, despite a wry smirk. "And how you insist on looking down. I know I'm a sight to behold, but I'm going to need you to stand up straight, and keep your eyes forward."

Running out of pins from his mouth, he paused to inspect his work. Taking the hem into his hands, he chuckled to himself in observation of the sheer amount that was in need of shortening.

"My, you're a just a little slip of thing. You're like an honest doll." Unmistakable adoration lurked within his remark, despite how offhand his delivery, "though a doll would stay still while I pinned, I'm sure." He chided up at her as he gathered the next set of pins. "Shoulders back and head level, my dear, unless you want a crooked hem."

"I can't help it." She sighed. "I do enjoy you like this."

A side of you I'm rarely able to experience. Added in lamentation by the vestiges of her jealousy.

A wicked grin curled around the pins clenched between his teeth, his voice muffled. "On my knees?"

She slit her eyes at his reflection, a smirk threatening to surface. "I meant professional."

"Semantics, my darling girl." He tittered, waving the measuring tape with a flippant flick of his wrist. "This work often sees me on my knees."

"I'm sure I'll grow to regret inflating your ego further still, but I like your look of focus. It's handsome." She stared straight ahead as instructed, while he knelt before her once more to resume his work. "Dashing, even."

"Is that so?" He soaked up her flattery like a fresh spring to a man in a drought. Before shifting forward on his knees, he prompted, "well, go on."

"And I...," she stopped herself, suddenly flaring with a bashfulness neither were used to seeing on her. Attracting his curiosity.

Brow cocked in wait, he wore an all too serious look as he pressed her. "Yes?"

"I like you... touching me in this way. It's not meant to be seductive, or coy. Your contact is out of necessity to your craft, but that just seems to make it all the more..." She trailed off, struggling to articulate.

Though by the tortured look on his face, she surmised she didn't have to. He stalled in thought.

"I see..." Expelled from him in a breath so heavy it was as if he had been holding it, a knowing grin then worked his lips apart, bearing his fangs in full. "Well I assure you, it was not my intention to get you hot and bothered. Yet, I wonder..."

He kept his musings internal, as he pushed his hand through the slit in her skirt, and wrapped his hand around the back of her knee.

The initiation, while frank, was most welcome. The hitch of her breath was all the sound she could make, as his curled fingers stroked up the back her thigh, before coming down to cradle her joint once more. Lifting her leg for her, Astarion fished it out through the separation in the fabric, guiding it up to drape over his shoulder.

Without breaking eye contact, he pushed up the skirts with his opposite hand to bunch at the crook of her hip, and out of his way.

Immediately, he was confronted by the bare sight of her, pinched rosy and glistening. Smooth as silk and exposed to him from a fresh shave. A haggard groan escaped him.

"Ohh look at you." The observation wound tight in the seat of his chest, it huffed from him as if just those few words held too great a weight for his tongue to form. His furrowed brow connected with her naval, as he brought his head to rest against her abdomen. Feigning surprise, he sighed. "Is all of this for me?"

Her fingers found his soft curls to knot in, shyness overpowering her limited capability to answer. His breath misting against her most intimate, her ears then perked to his low, agonized mutter in a foreign tongue.

She tsked with frustration of her own.

"Elvish does sound so especially pretty on your tongue, but it makes for poor bedroom talk when you speak it to a lover that does not understand it."

The wily high-elf pressed a conciliatory kiss in turn to her mons, smiling into her firm flesh at the sound of her breathless sigh spilled out into the open.

"Sincerest apologies, my love," his coo was sickeningly sweet as he placed another kiss, this one lower than the last. "You make me forget myself. Would you like a translation?"

"If it's not too much trouble." The quaver of her tone only spread his pompous grin wider.

He abandoned her core to begin trailing open-mouthed kisses to the smattering of freckles on her inner thigh. The impatience of her whimper went straight to his stiffening groin in aggravation.

"It was something to the effect of how desperate I am to devour that pretty little cunt of yours, until I'm unable to rid the taste from my mouth." Spoken with the infuriating nonchalance of one remarking on the weather.

No matter how venomous or vulgar, the liquid velvet of his voice was able to gild all that he spoke, even his filth.

His sinful divulgence made her see starts, until the elegant bridge his nose pressed against her bud in a way that erupted her vision in white. Alabaster mane curling around her fingers like rings, she tugged, her knee buckling as he rumbled into her with approval.

Limber velvet flattened against her throbbing slit as he dragged his tongue up the length of it, and then again, starting back at the bottom and swiping up to the top.

His path slow and deliberate, he coaxed her honey to soak against his maw, ushering the excess down his throat with a desperately voracious hum that she felt as clearly as she heard. So was so wet, impossibly wet, and all for him. A distinct, mild headiness that swelled his cock and ego alike.

Teasing her entrance with the flick of his tip, it clenched in vain against her own hollowness as he continued to play with her. Lapping and huffing, peeling her slick petals apart with slithering tenderness.

His hand slipped up the underside of the the thigh hooked over his shoulder, kneading the quivering hamstrings with the heel of his palm as it swept upward to grab a handful of her rear. The swell of it settling in his hold nicely, Astarion groped with steady, massaging pressure.

Kitten-like whimpers and mewls tumbled listless from her pout, wrenched open by his ceaseless onslaught. Her fingers buried in his mane, she both pushed and pulled him; unable to handle his direct assault, while at the same time longing to have his tongue wriggle its way inside her molten core.

Astarion discovered very early on in their trysts, much to his bemusement, how quick she was to writhe in over-stimulation from even the barest contact of his tongue to her womanhood. A weakness he was always relieved to discover persisted, even after all their time together.

Unburdened by the pressures of romance and consideration, he locked her against his mouth with greed, messy and crass. He swirled his tongue around her swollen nub before latching his lips around to suckle at it. Hard.

A shrill cry ripped from her throat as she thrashed in his hold. His lips and chin slippery with her arousal, her petite frame jerked and stuttered like a woman possessed. Though he was on his knees before her, he still overwhelmed her, gravity coming to his aid as she lacked the footing to ease away from him. Having no where to escape, she twisted and arched, and only ground herself down further against his mouth for her efforts.

His claws tightened their hold on the flesh of her ass, and yanked at her dress, expressing through action what his tongue was too preoccupied to speak. He wouldn't soon let her go.

Satisfied with her distraction, he took advantage to plunge the muscle as far inside her weeping channel as he could manage. Be it by fang or finger, the sensation of her spasming around his intrusion never failed to send his eyes rolling back into his skull. He almost forgot how tight she was. Her throbbing heat that drooled all over itself by but a few well-placed caresses, even just in passing. His fingers twitched against her toned, supple flesh. He would have loved nothing more than to hilt two digits to the knuckle inside of her, but he was all that was keeping her upright, and he knew that she would sooner crumble to the devastation of his tongue.

Drilling within her plush walls, he withdrew with a languid moan at how her cream coated his tongue, and smeared his cheeks, his eyes falling shut in a moment to ground himself. When he fed from his little half-elf, getting messy with her was a horrid habit, he'd have to concede. It was all too easy to get lost in her. An at times forgone conclusion, that damned his genteel manner, and decorum. This was no different. Be it her blood or her honey, the difference now seemed inconsequential.

He was feeding from her. Dropped to his knees before her, with his ravenous appetite turned on her slick, fluttering cunt instead of her pulse. Astarion fed from her like he had been starved until that moment. Nuzzling his face into the mess he made of them both.

With the taste of her at the back of his throat, and her melodic cries invading the air, he didn't think he could get any harder than he was that very moment. A realization as painful as it was startling, the itch at his groin refused to be ignored. In their absence from one another, he was quick to dismiss his own neglect, an oversight his body was quicker to confront him with.

It wasn't enough to keep him away from her for long. Her pitch spiked with a gasp that shattered him from the suffocating haze of untended lust, as he reattached himself to her clit. Swollen and sore by his doing, her little pearl twitched against his laving muscle as he sought to soothe it.

"There you are, that's my girl." His encouragement strangled in his growls. "Don't you dare hold back from me, not now. Not after how long I've waited for this"

Had he a free hand, it would have been kneading his bulge already in firm, downward strokes with the heel of his palm. He was afforded no additional selfishness. Her tremors strengthened, as did the tell-tale twice of her thigh slung over his shoulder.

Even as her climax began to tear through her from the inside, her manicured finger-tips managed to find the pointed, blushed tip of his left ear. Gathering the tine between the pads of her thumb and forefinger, she began to rub him with purposeful pressure.

He gasped into her folds, his hips bucking forward into empty space of their own accord.

"You little she-devil," drenched in affectionate pride, he groaned through lips he curled against hers. "You fight dirty."

Astarion doubled down his efforts. Sealing his lips over her bud, her worked the tip of his tongue in quick, tight flicks in a back and forth motion. Easing up only a little, just enough, knowing the barely-there, teasing licks would unravel her more powerfully than brute force ever could.

Mercifully, more so for him if he had to venture, she ceased her torment as her pleasure overtook her in a searing jolt of white lightning. A current that funneled through her being as she twisted in his iron grip, it burned from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head. A blistering filament that strung itself through her little body like a marionette string, manipulating her through her submission. Tossing her head back. Forcing her pelvis to tilt, and held it in place until the muscles numbed.

The piercing of his gaze was dulled by glassiness, and heavy-lids. He stared up at her in awe, as her soul sank back down to her body, still shivering above him. Once stable enough on her own foot, he untangled his fist from the crinkled tulle to wipe his mouth.

"My poor darling, I have neglected you something awful, haven't I?" He gathered the mess of her heat from around the corners of his mouth before sucking it clean from his fingers.

Dropping that hand to splay against the floor behind him, he turned his head into the heat of her blushed thigh. Pecking at her freckled skin gingerly, the hand that had been holding her up by her bottom slid to hook under her knee. He lifted it up to place an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of the joint.

"You have." She agreed, drawing back unsteadily on one leg as she raised the other away from his mouth. Pressing her toe against his shoulder, she nudged at him to recline backward.

The motion had his bleary eyes molten in the early morning haze that poured in from the windows. Astarion allowed his little sorceress to push him to his back, catching himself on his elbows with the spike of her heel dug into his chest. She nodded as she spoke, in agreement with her own instruction. "And you are far from done with me."

He nodded right along with her, swathes of his once kempt coif hanging limp against his damp forehead.

Dropping to her knees above his waist, she scrambled to push the dress out of her way, while he wasted not a moment more in popping the buttons of his trousers.

Hissing to his own fingers grazing the engorged flesh of his shaft, he grabbed ahold with a rough grasp and pulled himself free. The two were erratic in trying to align themselves, his bruised head to the heat of her sex, by touch alone. Their view obstructed from the many layers of silk and gauze neither cared to take the time to push away.

Once her found her, he was greeted by a lewd amount of slick drizzling from her kiss swollen lips. A delicious tension having wound itself in the pit of his groin, the moment her wet folds slid across his cockhead had it spread throughout the entirety of his lower half. A rippling scorch as contagious as wild fire.

A smart remark lodged in his throat at the ready, Sabine stole it from him as she sank down the length of his shaft in one fluid, impatient motion.

His head dropped back with a thud. The sound drowned out completely by the fierce, guttural howl that erupted from him at sheathing inside her to the hilt.

She was in no way immune to the brunt of him, to the pinching stretch of her walls as they rushed to accommodate his every rigid inch. Fluttering pulses yanked him in deeper, his girth still stinging despite her generous lubrication. Her walls tender and aching, the sensation of being deliciously too-full of him coaxed a small cry to break from her tongue against his ear. As restless and visceral as cold waves to the shoreline before a storm.

"All is forgiven." Her announcement was rooted so deeply in abandon he couldn't help but laugh, as wheezing and strangled as it was.

Time was of the essence. Wasting not a second more to indulge in how lovely the sensation of their joining, she began to bounce on top of him. The first few, somehow, had taken him by surprise. As if he too was squandering a moment neither of them could afford, just to bask in how she struggled to fit him. A few grunts slipped through his lips, rubbed raw and smeared with traces of her. The same genuine, monotonous grunts he uttered as he maneuvered along the ground while he hemmed her dress.

The parallel saw her core squeeze him hard and fast, catching him up to speed.

"Really? Just like that?" He croaked through a lopsided grin, brows furrowing as he gathered her about the waist to aid her stilted, hurried gyrations. His voice continued to crack with his speech, as rushed as the climax they both raced towards with baffling inelegance. "You're quite easy to please, my dear."

She whined as he bottomed out again and again, one strike more driving and furious then the next. The resounding snap of wet flesh meeting hard knotted her stomach, and pulled it inward. "That's not a complaint, I trust."

"Darling, when have you ever known me to complain?" He gasped as if for breath, the pressure coiling low in his pelvis, threatening to spend him if they continued at their pace. If she continued with those breathy, drawn out squeaks that made him want to sink his teeth into her neck. Not to feed, but to bite. Unable to get enough of her, even now. Even as he buried himself inside of her. "But to think of all the trouble I went through to get this dress - it cost a small fortune, I'll have you know."

"Of that I've no doubt, you never settle for anything less than the very finest-!" A shrill yelp cleaved her statement in two, as he bucked up into her with desperation. "I-I've never known you to let an opportunity to boast your immaculate taste pass you by-!"

Sabine was echoed by his cackling before she even finished getting the words out, broken and panting. She clung to him for dear life against his uneven rutting.

"I'll not let it be said I don't measure up to my reputation." His banter equaled hers with how disjointed. He anchored himself by the bruising hold he kept around her waist, using that leverage to pump into, while simultaneously forcing her down around his spearing.

It caused her body to seize around his cock with a strength that proved to her; when it came to Astarion, her body was more his than her own.

"Astarion!"

His name sounded hymnal on her strangled breath. The single, vague plea would have brought him to his knees, had he not already been on his back.

Pitching forward and catching herself by sinking her claws into his exposed chest, she tilted her pelvis to chase the friction of her bud caught against him. The new position offered him more depth to exploit, as well access to the tender patch inside her that had her vice-grip tightening with every nudge of his tip.

She was close again. He knew by the way she went rigid on top of him, her joints locking as moisture welled within her squinted eyes. Her fingers trembled with weak spasms against his pectorals, the opaline flesh streaked with angry red from her nails.

"Let go," he urged with a frantic gasp. Not asking, not demanding. But begging. "Let go."

All of his charm, needless and shallow, failed him. She stripped him of his suaveness and provocation, and the front of his dominance without mercy. He yelped the last of his restraint away as she ground down on him with particular fervor.

His heavy length throbbed with insistence that matched the dilation of his pupils. So overtaken by beady black, the once shimmering Cabernet was blotted out, as if by spilled ink. Snorts and growls snagged through his twisted lips. That low, dull pressure pulled taut behind the root of his cock.

"S-sabine, love - darling-," he pleaded with the frenetic urgency of one whose lifeline was slipping through their very fingers. "I'm-,"

His use of her name was as dire as the situation felt. She recognized it's significance. Referring to her in such a deliberate way, as if calling on a Goddess for deliverance.

His little half-elf was first to come apart, and she did so all for him. Clenching tight around him, as if in ownership. She moaned and mumbled unintelligibly, her blushed body shuddering in all the extravagant, bejeweled layers of silk and tulle. Her shoulders bowed to drop her head forward as she slumped on top of him, her tousled waves a curtain that hid her tear-stained face.

Astarion didn't stop. He couldn't stop. He rode her through her glorious unraveling, thrusting into her without prowess or rhythm. Driven purely by base instinct, and their mutual desperation for their awaited reunion to be consummated.

A sound tickled the shell of his ear. Innocuous, and far from their debauched clatter. It couldn't have come from them.

He didn't have the time, nor energy to spare for discernment. Just as the blinding of her climax began to recede, he tumbled headlong into the throes of his own.

Astarion came with a shout. His tendency to slip into a mangled litany of Elvish and English stalled, his tongue offered instead something that not even her unacquainted ear would struggle to decipher.

"Fuck-!"

He emptied himself inside her, warm and thick and so much. Too much. Crammed up against her battered womb, and painting it white. Giving her more than even he thought he had to give, as he felt the excess begin to leak back out against where they meshed, trickling down over the twitching stitch of his scrotum. Sweat beaded along his hairline and dripped down his temple. The creases that webbed from the corner of his eyes deepened, as he squeezed them shut against the intensity of relief.

His feral expletive was echoed by that soft, familiar sound in the distance again. One her fritzed mind was unable to spare attention to, as the sensation of liquid heat spurting into her instigative depths preoccupied the lion share of it.

For a long while, the only sound between them were their exchange of gasping breaths. The ferocity suggesting they had just ran for their lives. Not even the aftermath of a battle had rung them out as they were after that union.

Unsurprising, Sabine was the first to break the silence. Pushing the veil of mussed hair out of her foggy eyes with hands that still trembled.

"Oh my." Her whisper hoarse, her hot flesh stained as deep a crimson as her gown. A gown that, miraculously, stood the test of their sloppy fervor, and held to his pinning. "Do you treat all of your clients with such attentiveness?"

"No." His breathing ragged, a laugh rippled through him regardless, deep and hearty. She could feel it's vibration where they were still joined. "That, my love, was more of that preferential treatment I just got through warning you not to expect."

She beamed down at him with a heaving chest, as she fought to calm her breaths. "I'll not strike that against your professionalism, then."

He reached up to slip a palm around her flushed cheek. He looked lazy and contented beneath her, and it was only in the presence of relief did she then realize how high-strung he had been. Heavy, spent throbs of his softened cock still pulsed within her in absolute bliss.

"Good thing, too." He rasped. "It would be a pity to lose your patronage."

A sated smile spreading her lips, she leaned in slowly, hoping for the deep kiss she had been robbed of. "You'd like to see me again, would you?"

Lowering to place her chest flush with his own, she slunk further up his body to yet capture his lips.

"Oh yes. As your luck would have it, I've quite the fondness for you mutts, one I can't seem to find it within myself to resist." The way he rolled the phrase around the tip of his tongue, his favor for the taste plain, had her tighten around him.

A quick burst of exultant laughter erupted from him at the feeling, huffed against her expectant pout. As if her cheeks could turn rosier.

"I'm very happy to hea-"

"Ehem - !"

Their heads snapped in unison to the source of throat clearing, coming from a yet unidentified third party.

Third, and fourth party, to Sabine's mortification.

Two young elven women. Eleven sisters, judging by their uncanny resemblance. Tall as they were slender, the one in front, who demanded their presence be acknowledged, looked more than a little discomposed. Olive skin tinged roseate at her high cheeks.

The woman behind her had a blush to match, yet was unsuccessful in hiding the scandalous grin behind her fingers.

It took a moment for him to register who they were, and why they were huddled in his doorway, through his long overdue post-coitus haze. He wasn't left to grapple with his stubborn memory for long. Where disorientation ebbed, the shadow of clarity was sure to lurk; and it swept in to sober him.

They were the daughters of the very associate who requested his presence the following evening.

A pair of mermaid gowns commissioned for a pair of sisters. Minuscule, pearlescent beads were to be sewn on to the flared hems in the pattern of siren scales. A painstaking endeavor, as the amount of that hand-stitched ornamentation doubled.

Suitable costumes, as in his recall of their previous fittings, they very much resembled a sirens squawking with their fits of laughter. One sister only feeding the others.

Their names still eluded him, not that it mattered much. Pet names made for exceptional placeholders.

"Good morning, girls! I must beg your pardon, and a moment more of your time." Drawled with chipper insouciance, donning the mask of sycophant once more. As if their much revered, and highly coveted tailor wasn't sprawled out on the floor, straddled by a tiny half-elf who very much looked like she had just been railed within an inch of her life. The reek of sex unmistakable.

His audacity didn't stop there. He winked at them, the nimble fingers of his free hand absently twisting the tulle with a lazy pace. "If you'll be so kind as to wait for me in the foyer? My hands are full with a demanding client just now."

They scurried away from the lurid scene. The flushed little half-elf in red swatting at his chest, her roar of astounded fury was only amplified by his perverse, silvery cackle.

[dragonrebelrose]

"Why do you want Ezra and Sabine to be romantically involved?"

Because I want one, just ONE Star Wars romance to NOT end in tragedy.

Anakin and Padme: Padme dies, Anakin turns to the Dark Side

Obi-Wan and Satine: Satine dies, Obi-Wan gets depressed

Ahsoka and Lux: Lux loses interest and moves on to a different girl

Lux and Steela: Steela dies, Lux gets depressed

Ventress and Quinlan Vos: Ventress dies saving Vos, Vos gets depressed

Kanan and Hera: Kanan dies saving Hera, Hera gets depressed

Han and Leia: They break up, Han dies, Leia dies

Ben and Rey: Rey dies, Ben sacrifices himself to bring her back, Ben dies

And probably many more I'm missing, but these are the biggest ones.

Sure, there are SOME romances that end with both being alive and happy (Iden Versio and Del Meeko, Cal Kestis and Merrin) but the vast, vast, VAST majority are tragic, and I'm sick of it. And yes, some little happiness may have come out of a few of these romances, at the very end (Anakin being redeemed, Hera gives birth to Jacen, Ben is redeemed), but that's not what I'm looking for. Ezra and Sabine have the best chance at having a happy ending with neither dying and I'm going to die on that hill.

[jessicas-pi]

For the AU Ask Game

What about any members of the Ghost crew in a Jurassic Park situation?

this. uh. might not be what you had in mind? But it is situation straight out of Jurassic Park and it is the Ghost crew members and it's what I was inspired to do so I'm gonna say it kinda counts!

--

Hera had never regretted anything more than she regretted accepting this invitation.

She should have known better. She should never have agreed. But---but Sabine had been so happy.

Sabine hadn't been happy in a long time.

(It had seemed like she might be, when she'd had hope for finding Ezra, but... well. That hadn't gone very well. There had been an argument, and Sabine and Ezra hadn't talked in months.)

"There's this scientist," Sabine had said, when she was trying to convince her to go along with her. "He's been collecting bio-samples from parts of Mandalore since before the Empire glassed it. He's cloned animals and plants, and begun to repopulate one of Mandalore's moons with them. The whole thing is a park. There are species that were wiped out in wars almost a century ago. He's healing my home, Hera."

The problem was, cloning was not allowed by the New Republic, and they were trying to shut down the project. This scientist sought Sabine out, asking her to come see what was being done, hoping that having a war hero vouch for his project would help convince the New Republic to make an exception.

And Sabine had begged Hera to come along, too. The scientist had added that she could bring her son, that there was a petting zoo filled with cute little critters, that he would have a wonderful time.

At the time, Hera had thought it was perfect---they could bring Ezra, and Zeb, too, and Ahsoka, and it would be an opportunity to try and mend burned bridges and bring their family together again.

She was so, so wrong.

The animals---the big ones, the mean ones, the ones that the scientist hadn't mentioned---were loose. The fences were all down. The power was out. Zeb was stranded. Ahsoka was missing. And worst of all, her kids---Sabine, and Ezra, and her own precious little boy---were out there. In the dark. In a storm. Alone.

And Hera was stuck in this control building, with all the lights out, at the end of a long table, unable to do anything but eat half-melted ice cream and wish that they were all home.

(She would not be endorsing this park.)