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sirdindjarin · 1 year

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The Concession - Din Djarin x f!Reader

gif from @rebeljyn 's gifset here

Din Djarin falls in love. Whoops.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

AO3 Link

TAGS: S2 Din Djarin, "Who Did This to You?", P in V, Unprotected Sex w/o consequences because who likes those, m!Masturbation, Fluff, Pining, touch-starved!Din, helmet-less!Din, soft!Din, protective!Din, Grogu bein a sweet shit.

WARNINGS: Star Wars cursing/slang which I know annoys some people lmao, abusive shopkeepers.

A/N: "Shit" is Star Wars canon (thank you, Andor); Din is a groaner (Chapter 5 of TBOBF); & Din is a bit of a poet (thanks pledge to Bo-Katan in Chapter 23); I have cited my sources LOL.

"No," the Mandalorian snaps. "No droids."

A gloved hand flies to his holster and the rusty pit droids screech to a halt, beeping nervously.

Leaning against the frame of the Razor Crest, at the top of the boarding ramp, you roll your eyes at Din Djarin's back. His distaste for droids had been made clear to you the first time he'd stopped for parts.

Those droids had been considerably less polite about Din’s preference, and he had taken too much pleasure in enforcing it.

"Listen, buddy, they're my refueling dr-"

"Then I'll take my business elsewhere."

The attendant sighs loudly, glaring at the Mandalorian. The skinny, maroon male with a fin-shaped head rises from his chair behind his workshop desk. He walks toward a shaking pit droid and grabs the refueler.

"It'll cost you extra," the attendant's eye-stalks narrow at the bounty hunter.

Din comes to an agreement with the disgruntled worker, sullenly agreeing to a slightly higher rate.

As the Mandalorian keeps watch over his ship, your footsteps clang down the steep ramp, and you sidle up to him, saying, "We need some things. Ration packs are gone. And - don't tell him -" your voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, "But I think Grogu deserves a treat."

"He would agree with you.” Din’s elbow brushes your shoulder, and he realizes he’d leaned closer as you spoke.

You continue, “And you need something to relax.”

At that, Din’s helmet turns. “I do not.”

“You’re even more impatient than usual. You’re on an anti-droid campaign; the last time we stopped, you threatened to yank out one’s navigator circuits just for bumping your foot.” You look up at him, raising a teasing eyebrow.

The Mandalorian goes as still as one of those droids he had deactivated. His intimidating, T-shaped slit brands into your vision. Behind it, you know he’s boring holes into your face.

“Alright. Nothing for you, then.”

Your shoulders drop when you turn away from him, almost relieved to be out from underneath his piercing, hidden gaze.

The Mandalorian had paid you a few days before, and this was your first real opportunity to spend your own money. You can’t stop smiling, even as you place the kid in his white pod and stuff your pocket with your credits. Grogu is as excited as you are - giggling in his quiet way.

As you pass the statue of Din Djarin, he extends a closed fist. Obediently, you hold out your hand. The tan-hide fingers of his gloves open and credits fall, clinking. You look up questioningly at him.

“For the food. Your wages are not meant to be spent on communal necessities.”

Your lips curve into a lopsided, sweet smile that Din immediately commits to memory, and you nod.

Turning to Grogu, his fuzzy ears perked and eyes wide, you ask, “Ready, kid?”

***

The marketplace is huge. Stretching the length of the entire square, it’s busy for a planet this remote, but the size increases the options.

Grogu floats along beside you, and you keep one hand on the lip of the pod, just to be safe. The responsibility of the kid is the greatest charge you’ve ever been given, in more ways than one. Grogu often holds your hand or squeaks to get your attention to point at something glowing or stinky or flashing. His outright affection is a lamp to your lonely heart.

After visiting several vendors, you’ve resupplied what was necessary (with credits left over), and now you move on to something for Grogu. You’d be buying that with your own wages. Din could say whatever he liked, but what else do you have to spend your money on except the cute baby?

You walk past a booth advertising repair supplies, but when you realize it’s for clothing repair, something clicks in your brain. Grogu’s ears flop forward with your sudden stop. Your eyes run over the objects, and you select some, a smile splitting your face. You hope he will be pleased.

Several minutes later, Grogu makes a bah! sound, pointing at a live amphibian display. You’re pretty sure it’s a pet vendor, but the look on the kid’s face tells you he won’t take no for an answer. And maybe you should parent him - tell him no - but that’s Din’s job, not yours.

“Hi. How much for the frog eggs?” You politely ask the vendor, digging in your pocket for credits.

The bug-eyed lady tells you in a language you don’t speak, but she holds up three short tentacles on her hand. She pushes six eggs toward you, which you gratefully take and set in Grogu’s pod.

When you try to hand her the credits, she’s pushed out of the way by someone behind her. A man with a smushed nose yells in the same language the lady had spoken, and points away, clearly telling her to leave.

You watch warily, and once the woman has gone, the man turns to you.

“My apologies. The price is one credit per egg,” he simpers at you.

Disliking the hike in price, you move to return half of the eggs, but he protests, “Once the item has left my possession, they must be paid for.”

“But I can give them back to you,” you assert. “I’m not paying that much for frog eggs.”

His smushed nose twitches up like a feral Loth-wolf, “Yes, you are.”

"I'm not." You set three eggs back on the counter.

The man seizes your wrists, holding you in place. The crowded market is loud, but your indignant cry and the vendor's screamed accusation of theft cause several people to stop and watch.

You try to twist out of his hold, but his scaly skin tears at yours. The snarling vendor suddenly ceases making noise, and he releases your wrists to clutch at his throat. Shocked, your head snaps to the child.

Grogu has one little, three-fingered hand raised and curled.

“No!” You gasp, slamming the button on Grogu’s pod to close it. Far, far too many eyes watch.

The vendor, choking and sputtering, recovers quickly and lunges at you across the table. His hands grip your upper arms, but you wrench out of his hold. Hoping to draw all attention to yourself, you punch the vendor with all your might. The vendor stumbles.

“Never seen someone pretend to choke over three credits,” your lie is an incredibly lame one, but you hope it’s enough for passersby.

He clutches his jaw; his spat insult is garbled, and he begins to inch around the long table, trying to get a better shot at you.

You turn and walk away with as even a pace as you can manage. Running would make his accusation true. The crowd swallows the two of you up well, and you lengthen your stride.

But the vendor is regaining his volume. Nervously, you check over your shoulder. You jolt when Grogu’s pod bumps into your hip, then zooms away.

“No,” you yell again, grasping for the white vessel, but it comes to a hovering stop in front of a tall, silver man.

“Thank the Maker,” you sigh with relief. “We have to go.”

Din immediately notices the red ring of heat around your wrists and along your knuckles. He strides toward you. The closer he gets, the safer you feel - his protective aura slowly engulfing you.

Din grabs your forearm and examines your wrist. There’s a raw quality to your skin where the man’s abrasive hands had clamped down and twisted. After a moment, his face locks onto yours.

“Show me who did this."

Cold, calm, his words are a promise.

Confused by his reaction, and still so used to answering when asked a direct question, you wince over your shoulder. Din finally seems to hear the vendor shouting in the distance as he searches the crowd for a ‘thief’ and her ‘dangerous pet’. Din abruptly straightens and steps past you.

Running after him, you reach for his gloved hand, fingers sliding home. “Din, please; we need to go.”

The familiar contact makes him stop and turn to look at you. He says nothing, so you use the opportunity to explain.

“The ki- I made a scene, and it would be best if everyone forgot about it. A Mandalorian publicly roughing up the very same shopkeeper would give them more reason to gossip.”

Din Djarin frowns the longer you speak. He knows you’re right. The kid is far more important than his sudden anger. He nods curtly.

The man’s vicious insults about your likely occupation and parentage echo down the street and make Din’s lip curl. But for the sake of the child, he manages to turn back toward the Razor Crest. It’s only when he passes Grogu’s stationary pod that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, fingers loosely intertwined.

He gently flexes his hand, letting go.

____________________________________

As the Razor Crest speeds away from the planet, you smile. Vacuous and bone-chillingly cold, space is the worst. For most of your life, the inhospitable conditions had been worsened by your constant transport in the dark hold of some Creator-forsaken vessel.

But the cabin of the Mandalorian’s ship is warm and full of life, occupied by the kid's excited babbling and your semi-nervous laughter.

The kid waves his stubby arms in the Mandalorian’s lap as the Razor Crest dips and rises through a relatively calm asteroid field. Expertly maneuvering the expanse, Din Djarin has little motivation to do so except the smiles on his passengers’ faces. If you ask, he’ll tell you it’s a shortcut to the next system, which is only mostly untrue.

It’s been three months since Din collected the bounty on your former master. During that time, the Mandalorian had found one of the kid’s kind. A Jedi who could’ve taken Grogu, she declined the task. She told the bounty hunter of a place, a Seeing Stone, where Grogu could reach out for a Jedi master himself.

Though a week has passed since learning of the Stone, Din had yet to bring Grogu to it, instead taking a couple of jobs. The stoic Mandalorian won’t admit, especially to himself, that he’s reluctant to let the child go.

Reaching a lull in the slow-moving asteroids, Din draws the thruster back to stationary level, then looks down, his helmet nearly touching his breastplate, at the child still waving his short arms. Din turns his silver face to you questioningly.

Before he can speak, you joke, "I don’t want to learn to fly out here, if that's what you're about to ask.”

He shrugs with acceptance. Your eyebrows pinch in surprise, wondering if he’s playing along or serious.

“Okay, kid. We're done here,” he tenderly lifts Grogu and passes him to you.

Grogu makes a protesting sound and hides one of his hands inside his robe.

“Big, mean Mandalorian is no fun,” you mutter to the child teasingly. Grogu coos in agreement.

Din shakes his head and swivels back to the control panel, flipping switches and entering data. The kid catches your attention, triumphantly showcasing a small metal sphere from his robe. You press your lips together and wink, silently promising you won’t tell.

The Mandalorian’s gloved fingers run over his ship’s control panel like he’s conducting the Coruscant Orchestra, and then, suddenly, his right hand freezes in mid-air as he reaches for the thruster.

“Grogu,” Din growls, spinning in his chair.

You laugh openly, “He’s a toddler, Din. You can’t close your eyes for a second.”

The Mandalorian rises, his bulk taking up the entirety of the cabin. He gently wrestles the ball from Grogu's fingers.

Long, soft ears droop, and massive, black eyes turn glassy.

“Oh, look what you've done,” you croon, looking up at Din with an expression mirroring the kid’s.

Though he doesn't move, you can somehow see when Din’s annoyance is overruled by something stronger. Then the Mandalorian’s wide shoulders slowly rise and fall, a long-suffering sigh leaving his body.

“You are both menaces,” the Mandalorian accuses. He extends his hand, palm upward, “Grogu. Take it.”

You hold your breath, allowing the child to focus on using his power. Grogu closes his eyes. The metal ball wiggles in the concave of Din’s large palm, then zooms to Grogu’s tiny hand.

Din makes a fist in excitement, “Great job, kid.”

Beaming at the Mandalorian, even more enthralled with him than the magic child in your lap, you wish you could see his proud smile.

Noticing your expression, Din's chin swivels to the side, clearly questioning.

"Nothing. It's just that - it’s good to see you like this.” You shrug, trying to minimize your staring. “I know you’ve been stressed.”

The silent moment draws out as he assesses your observation. Still standing, the Mandalorian’s right hand hesitantly rises to whisper across the left side of your jaw. The gloved softness of his thumb caresses your cheekbone for an instant and a lifetime.

Din drops his hand like it weighs as much as a rancor. He turns around and sits back in his pilot's chair. Silver armor reflects the red and yellow lights around the cabin as he finishes his navigational procedures.

Cheeks aflame, you duck your face down into the kid.

___________________________________

“‘Occasional repairs,’’' you quote at the Mandalorian. “Every karking week there’s a new hole in this poor ship.”

On the other side of the wing, busy soldering panels together, the Mandalorian's head snaps up. Unmoving, his expressionless mask simply stares at you. You bite your lip to prevent a grin and continue replacing bolts.

The beskar helmet remains for a while longer, hiding Din’s thoughts. He imagines what you’d look like if he put you on your knees and made you pay for your jokes. If he wiped that pretty smirk off your face. He feels a stirring in his flight suit, so he wrenches his mind away.

The act the two of you committed in that field has not been repeated. His dedication to his helmet - to his creed - is paramount. And you tempt him too much.

For the second time in the past year, Din has accidentally grown attached to someone - first the kid and now you. But with you, it’s a danger of a different kind.

Din had hoped that he just needed to get it out of his system. Get you out of his system. He had won that mock fight in the field, but he had yielded to his desire for you.

Instead of feeling sated, Din feels hungrier as the days go by. Useless information, such as the number of sonic showers you've taken, clogs his mind. He would be ashamed of his counting, but he's too battle-weary to care. He does not count how many times he's taken advantage of the privacy of his bunk, remembering your eager face, your receptive body underneath him.

All that armor wasn't worth a damn thing.

It’s easier for you. As inexperienced as Din but with your self-esteem already in the sarlacc pit, it wasn’t a stretch to imagine he'd had his fill of you and… well, that was that. Though you dream of it nearly every night, waking up to the strange feeling of both gaining and losing something.

Of course, the Mandalorian still needed you to care for the kid or help him replace several wing panels when he inevitably damaged them, as you were currently doing.

At dusk, white trees sway behind you in the biting wind. This planet is rather cold, and Grogu, asleep inside the Razor Crest, doesn’t join you for the lovely, young Gornt dinner that Din had hunted. The two of you butcher it in silence and place it on the makeshift spit.

You then plop onto a log and snuggle down into your clothes, shivering. Though the items Din had given you months earlier are sturdy and warm, some of the chill of the night manages to seep through. You cross your arms, rubbing them.

Din vanishes from the other side of the fire - the smoky, dark air impenetrable. Squinting, you try to spot his reflective armor, but it works against you in this instance, easily blending him into the flickering, dim light.

A heavy material suddenly falls onto your shoulders, and you jump.

"Oh!"

The Mandalorian stands directly behind you, the thick cloak he was trying to give you still partially in his hand.

"I was focused on trying to see you through the smoke. I didn't think you'd be there." You clutch the brown garment tight around you and softly smile up at him, "Thank you."

Din nods, the clinking sound of metal audible as he returns to his log across the firelight. Your mouth gapes for a moment when you realize that the material around your shoulders is his torn cape.

"Do you not get cold?"

"I do."

"Why not wear one yourself then?" You lift part of the cloak in indication.

"Mandalorians are taught to withstand uncomfortable circumstances. As a foundling, I frequently exercised in far less temperate weather."

"A foundling?" You query, your eyebrow raising.

The Mandalorian leans back and shifts his legs apart to better distribute his weight.

"My youth was upended by war. When my village was destroyed, I was found by a Mandalorian."

"The name is quite literal, then?"

"My people are quite literal," Din crosses his arms and his commanding presence is distracting.

He looks so big sitting on the log, his legs open, back straight, and arms folded.

"We have similar beginnings," you swallow, trying to ignore the burning inside that has nothing to do with the fire.

"I was a little more fortunate in who found me," Din states. He leans forward to finally adjust the rod holding your dinner.

You lose your gaze in the flaming light, remembering.

“I still can��t believe how much things have changed,” you murmur.

Din Djarin can’t either. He has a life-altering decision to make, and a child to let go of, and both thoughts weigh on him like a karking Mudhorn. Din sighs internally at his unintended choice of simile.

Your eyes stray upward to the navy sky, breathing deeply. The frigid air burns your lungs, but you only draw more in, relishing your freedom to do so.

"You did not deserve that life," Din’s rough, mechanical voice answers over the sound of the crackling fire.

You frown, "No one does."

Running with the Mandalorian was a great way to stay ahead of the slavers. Paid employment, constant movement, and no one besides Din knowing your name - it was too good to be true.

Dropping your head from the sky, you level the Mandalorian with the most heartfelt gaze you can manage, "Thank you. I would've never had the courage to run without you."

Unable to see his reaction, you feel the distance most acutely. It isn't just flame and metal that divides you.

"I-" Din starts, but you cut him off.

"But mostly it's thanks to Grogu," you grin, trying to lighten the mood.

The helmet bobs as though he's amused, then Din sighs dramatically.

"I need to separate you two."

"I love him," you giggle, remembering a moment a few days earlier when he had picked up a very dignified, sentient species of frog and tried to eat it. "He is such an agent of chaos." You laugh into your cloak-covered hand.

Grateful that you can't see the fervent emotion glimmering in his brown eyes, Din studies you. Your fond smile is lit by the glowing fire and the cold winds blow redness into your cheeks and nose. You’re secure in his cloak, and it makes his chest ache.

"Shit," he breathes. The hiss through his modulator doesn't pick up the word well, to his relief.

It's not a surprise if you do truly love the kid. He is adorable and you've been with him every waking moment for three months, but the word you've just introduced is jarring to Din.

Talking about Grogu brings the dangers you all face to the forefront of your mind. Your smile falls.

"Will you continue to teach me to fight?" You don't immediately register the sudden rigidity of Din's posture, so you press on, "It’s upsetting to me that I'm better with a blaster than with the skills I was taught and trained in by my family."

The Mandalorian is relieved. You've given him an excuse to say no.

"I cannot teach you the methods of your people."

“That’s alright; anything would be appreciated.”

Din shifts his thigh on the log, agitated, and you struggle to fill the silence, “You don’t have to, of course.”

Then, as the silence lengthens, and you watch his helmet glint as he looks away, you realize what he must be so uncomfortable about.

“Oh. I am not asking we repeat that. I’m sorry,” you raise a hand to chest height as if you’re trying to physically defend yourself from the awkwardness. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know.”

“I- Din, really I only meant the…” you grimace and clamp your lips together, unable to bear the tension. Standing, you insist, “I swear to you, I never expected more.”

Forgetting to return his cape, you unconsciously hold it closer as you retreat into the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian does not watch you walk away. His conflicted eyes remain trained on the crackling fire. Sparring with you brings every heart tug, every little attraction he has to you to the surface, and that's too frustrating to manage while IMPs track him and he deals with letting go of Grogu.

But Din knows he really should continue to teach you. It’s in your best interest, as well as Grogu’s. His hangup is entirely selfish, and Din is not a selfish man.

***

Hours later, when the sun has started to rise once more on this short-cycle planet, the Mandalorian finds his brown cape hung on the door to the refresher. He jerks it off its resting place, and goes to tuck it back around himself, when he notices that something is wrong.

Frozen, the Mandalorian stares at the brown, rough material in his hand. There are no holes in it anymore, only stitches.

_________________________________________

Combined with the sound of intentionally-loud footsteps, Din places Grogu - who had jumped between the two of you all night - on the edge of your cot, allowing the child to wake you up. Din strides to his weapons cache.

You yawn, then snicker at Grogu’s delighted face as he babbles what must be his version of Good Morning.

“Morning, kid.” You pet his ear and he begins to purr.

“You should stop babying him,” the Mandalorian doesn’t look at you as he searches among the weapons.

“Why? He’s a baby.”

Din shuts the doors to his stash. “He is fifty years old."

“He's what?”

Din shrugs and inclines his head in humor. You stare incredulously at the middle-aged child who rotates his little head between you and his father.

“His species is unknown, but they age differently than we do.”

“Uh, yeah. Fifty?”

Din’s modulator makes a rasping sound. It could’ve been a small laugh, but you’re not sure.

“Is fifty so terrible?”

Something in Din’s voice makes you look up at him. He casually leans against the hull.

Unsure if you should have the gumption to even ask, you stutter, “A-are you also fifty?”

The beskar mask does not move as the man behind it debates his reply. He decides on honesty.

“No,” Din states. He clasps one hand over the other in front of him, adding, “But I will reach that number in less than a decade.”

You make a small, accepting gesture as you had subconsciously placed him around his early forties anyway. In any case, it doesn’t matter to you. He is the Mandalorian who (somewhat inadvertently at first, you’ll admit) saved you. Even without that gratitude, you would feel an attraction to him. He was strong and kind and protective. Ruthless, sure, but only when necessary.

Din pushes off the wall, “You didn’t ask why I woke you.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t occurred to you, so used to being woken up - far more rudely or violently - each morning for the prior two decades. “Alright, why did you wake me?”

He reaches behind his back, unhooking an item, and holds out the fighting stick he had used in that skirmish between the two of you.

“I will teach you what I can.”

***

Din Djarin is careful not to touch you, even through his gloves. He doesn’t trust himself anymore. Instead, he instructs you in tactics. After clocking your strategy in less than three moves, Din is worried about your future opponents doing the same.

“You dislike giving ground, but there will be times you’ll have to. It’s how you will outmaneuver them,” the Mandalorian stands, hands folded, his knee cocked, as he speaks.

“How do you know that?” You ask in response to his first statement.

Din clenches his jaw at the memory so very close to other memories, and answers you in a contained voice, “You were not subtle.”

You smile, abashed. “See, that is why I asked you. I’m far too inexperienced.”

Din closes his eyes in frustration.

You continue nervously, thinking about how hesitant he had been to agree to this, “My master took me to many fights, and you’re the best I’ve ever seen. I value your opinion.”

Din is used to compliments. Those whom he returned quarries to often praised him for his work. But your praise is one he actually wants, and something throbs in his chest. Then he grows irritated with his rampant, immature yearning for you.

Din speaks harshly, “This is for the protection of the child. You are his guardian when I am not nearby.”

Locked onto that T-shaped, black slit, your eyes flicker a little at his callous, impatient pronouncement, but you nod.

“Of course. For the kid.”

__________________________________

Unhappy to be removed from where he had curled up on his father’s pilot seat, Grogu had insisted upon sleeping in the cockpit with his little metal ball. You had assured the Mandalorian that you didn’t mind staying in the passenger chair for the night. The cushions were comfortable enough, and it made the child happy.

An hour after Grogu had begun purring in his sleep, you’re brought to consciousness by a deeper, labored sound. Bolting to your feet, worried about the Mandalorian below, you descend the ladder.

The door to the Mandalorian’s bunk had not fully closed, apparently jamming on some loose junk part that Grogu must’ve picked up. There is no light on in the enclosed space, so you cannot see him. But you can hear the way he mutters your name once, rough and agitated. You can hear the sound of material jerking and his rasping, vocoded grunts.

Your throat tightens and your breathing stops. Eyes wide, you slowly back up, terrified for him to find you in this way. A molten weight in your stomach wants you to push open the door and take care of him, but after the manner in which he spoke to you the entire afternoon, and the obvious way he tries to forget about that day in the field, you can’t. You can’t even fathom why he would be uttering your name. It’s too confusing.

Dazed, you return to the cockpit and try to block him out. Sleep does not come to save you for far too long, and when it does, it provides you no escape from the Mandalorian.

__________________________________

Din’s tortured use of your name had kept you awake far into the night. When you groggily open your eyes the next morning, you know you won’t be able to let this go. You must talk to him. Bravery is a muscle you’re trying to flex anyway, so you might as well try it on the scariest thing you can think of: an angry Din Djarin.

While Grogu plays with a ship part you pretend to have never seen, one Din had pried out of the receiving slot of his bunk door this morning, you and he traipse down the boarding ramp, intending to save the rest of the Gornt meat for traveling.

Absolutely guessing at how you’ll begin this conversation, you decide you’ll just hope for the best.

“I- I heard you last night.” It’s barely more than a whisper.

The Mandalorian stops dead in his tracks and you stumble, trying not to run into him. He turns on you, a solid wall of muscle and metal, but says nothing. You swallow and force what shred of courage you have to the front.

“I heard you say my name. You don’t have to do that alone. I can help you,” your final words are almost inaudible.

The Mandalorian provides food, shelter, and companionship. Ignorant to any kind of normal relationship, friendly or greater, you want to show your gratitude. And if that was how you could help him, all the better.

Your inner self, the one that’s been unthawing since the day your master was frozen in carbonite, wants Din in a far more genuine manner. You want him. His compassion and honor, his fatherly love for Grogu, his non-pitying care for you, and his primal confidence have you in danger of becoming a hopeless devotee.

“Help me,” he reiterates, his tone worryingly neutral.

“Passage for assistance,” you try to ease the tension slightly with another old quote of his. “I can still assist you. It’s repayment for your aid.”

Even as you say it, you feel the depth of the lie. You want Din for yourself.

He’s silent. At his side, the fingers on his right hand fidget. The broad bounty hunter leans over you. As he tilts his head, the cold sun glints off his armor.

Din’s voice is as sharp as his vibroblade but twice as lethal, “You are no longer a slave - do not make me say that again. This is not a business transaction.”

Not a business transaction? While technically a rejection, his clarification makes you dizzy. Your breath comes out shakily, fogging in the chill air.

“Okay. What if that’s not my real reason for asking?”

That does it. Stunned, the Mandalorian might as well be a statue made of beskar. Din had found it easy to believe you allowed him to touch you because you felt in his debt, and he hated it. Made him feel as slimy as a Hutt.

“Tell me.”

Din watches your facial expressions run the gamut and he knows that whatever you’re about to say is the truth.

“I care about you.” Will you ever stop whispering? “For you, not just what you’ve done for me,” your second greatest act of bravery this morning is touching his cold chestplate. You swallow as you look up into that blank face.

Din doesn't move. Doesn't think he can move, but then his body responds before his mind does. Soft leather brushes your cheekbones as he takes your face in his large hands. He tilts his cold helmet to your forehead, and you instinctively close your eyes, sighing in relief. This was not what you were expecting when you followed him out here.

You can't hear the first thing he says, but it sounds like dank farrik. You laugh quietly in his hands.

"You are a menace,” he mutters a little louder, the modulator somehow enhancing the timbre of his voice. “You and the kid.”

Grinning, you open your eyes as he lifts his helmet from your skin. “Don’t bring him into this,” you joke.

Din’s thumb ghosts across your lips and you shiver. The Mandalorian is calm. This is inevitable now. He need not fight himself any longer. He grasps your wrist and brings it upward. Gently guiding your fingers underneath the edge of his helmet, Din presses them to his lips.

Utterly shocked at this new gift, you gasp. A scratchy cloth wraps around the bottom of his chin, but above it, his soft, scruffy facial hair and plump lips make your skin tingle. Nerves jumble in your lower stomach. He presses another kiss before slowly lowering your hand.

You tell him disbelievingly, "I thought there was no way -”

“What you thought was wrong.”

Your heat signature rises at the sincerity in his voice. Din tilts his head, watching your reaction to him. He lets his covered fingers drift over your lips again, then he drags them down the column of your throat and past your exposed collarbone, enjoying your whimper. Your pupils are dilated.

“You want me now, don’t you?” He asks, his voice hoarse.

You nod, whispering past your suddenly dry mouth, “Yes.”

The Mandalorian crouches for a split second, hefting you into his arms with no effort. Your legs automatically wrap around his middle, arms around his neck. His hands clasp underneath your thighs as he strides up the loading ramp as though every second he delayed was one wasted.

Din lays you out on his bunk and hits the button for the door without looking at it. He does not turn on the light. In the tiny, black room, you can hear him divesting himself of his flight suit and armor. It makes your heart throw itself against your chest. You sit up and struggle out of your own clothes, wanting nothing between you and him.

“Will I ever get to kiss you?” You ask timidly.

Din answers you immediately. His rough palms bracket your face, then he reverently pushes his lips into yours. His facial hair brushes against your skin and you weakly moan into his mouth, parting your lips for more. The Mandalorian groans, as well, enraptured by this new sensation.

Din wraps a muscled arm around your waist, crushing you to him in the small space. His warm, broad chest forces yours to mold around him. Your hands gently drag along his torso, mapping him. He shudders underneath your fingers.

His lips break like waves around yours. You could be floating above the bed and it would feel no different. He kisses you like it’s what he needs to survive; his occasional noises of desperation stake your heart and dampen your thighs.

“Need to touch you everywhere,” Din’s real, untampered voice knots your stomach.

“You can do whatever you want,” you breathlessly repeat the unspoken affirmation you’d given him the first time.

He chuckles, and you shiver again, drunk with lust. Din lowers you back onto the hard bed, settling over you.

His hot mouth surprises the sensitive skin of your breast. Din moans, involuntarily you think, as he tastes you there, gently pulling and sucking. You jerk, pressing up into him with a cry. Who knew that could feel so good?

His big hands flow down your sides, pressing into you, exploring, and you get a burst of understanding. This man is starved.

Your hands comb into his hair, and while you wonder what its color is, you’re choked up to find that it’s soft and wavy. Din groans loudly when your fingers rub on his scalp. He seems invigorated by it as he growls and returns to your lips with a fever. His tongue demands you allow him inside, but there is no resistance on your end.

Suddenly, Din breaks the kiss with a wet pop of his lips. He vanishes from above you, but then two large hands slide up your thighs. He pushes them apart and your breath hitches.

“You trust me?” The Mandalorian knows the answer, he just wants to hear it.

Nodding dumbly in the dark, you realize he can’t see you and squeak, “Yes.”

He shifts down and presses a row of kisses up your inner thigh. His nose brushes your coarse hair, and your breathing breaks a second time.

Din flattens his tongue and licks the spot he already knows you like. You jolt and his arms wrest around your thighs, holding you in place for him. You whimper as he buries his face in your folds, shocking your system. Your hands return to his hair, and his chest swells as he quickly shoves you toward your end. His nose continually nudges your bundle of nerves and each time it feels like you’re hurtling through hyperspace.

Your back arches when he traps your clit between his lips, and he responds with another obscene noise. This time, the vibration of his deep voice rips your orgasm from your marrow. Crying out his name, you quake, chest heaving through the waves of euphoria.

Too overwhelmed by all his options, Din moves back to your mouth, breathing heavily himself, “Incredible.”

He licks into you again, his hand cradling your face to allow him deeper. Taking advantage of his position, you wrap your legs around his trim waist, pulling him down. His hips cant toward you, and you feel his length fall onto your abdomen. You hadn’t forgotten how big he was, but the heft of it makes your body tremble.

The Mandalorian could be a patient man, but this would never be one of those moments. Din fists himself, rubbing once along your soaked seam. He pushes forward, steadily feeding his cock into your tight, forgiving heat. Din grunts several times, overstimulated.

“You don’t know what you’ve done, mesh’la,” he gruffly murmurs, his naked voice still so shocking to hear.

You have no idea what he means, and you file it away for later study. Solely focused on how he feels halfway inside you, you clutch at the back of his thick thighs, encouraging him. But then he snaps his hips, driving himself to the hilt.

“Din, oh,” you sharply gasp.

He grinds his pubic bone into your mound, stimulating you; his chin tilts up, proud, when you shudder. The Mandalorian grabs one of your hands and brings it to where he’s joined with you.

“You feel that?” Din’s voice is weighty, meaningful.

“Mhm,” you sigh, your fingers leaving his hand to explore his dark curls. He’s right. The deviant way his thick member disappears inside you is intoxicating.

He languidly draws himself out, letting you experience every ridge and vein, pulsing with your filthy sounds. He re-enters you just as intentionally, and when he’s given you everything, he leans down and drags you into a kiss. A kiss that means something to him. His tongue surges through your mouth in a single stroke before his full lips pull on yours, one hand gripping the back of your neck.

He lets you go, trailing his mouth down your throat, obsessed with the taste and the feel of you on his skin.

Din returns to your lips, his forearms framing your head. His fingers twist in your hair, and he begins to pump faster. His length strokes along a spot that makes your eyes flutter in the pitch blackness. Your nails carefully rake at his toned back, drawing a strangled moan from him as he shoves himself inside again and again. Losing a measure of self-control, he thrusts hard, placing a palm on the back wall for stability.

Your hands finally, finally, reach up for his face, expecting at any moment that he’ll stop you. His lips are parted as he pants in exertion, his facial hair fluttering with his breath. Din’s cheekbones are round and high; his nose is angular and fitting.

“I knew you were handsome,” you praise, the words fluctuating in cadence with his pounding strokes. “Wouldn’t have mattered.”

He scoffs, barely conscious of what you’re saying. His forehead drops to yours again, and he can’t believe the life he’d known had unraveled so drastically. In under a year, Din had gained a child and this.

“Turn over,” he orders.

Of course, you obey without hesitation.

His calloused fingers slide around your hips, pulling them upward. With your chest still pressed into the bunk, you moan when he slowly re-inserts himself. He nearly chokes when your body draws him in; the angle and drenched grip of you makes him shake his head in disbelief.

“You okay?” He rumbles.

Your chin scrapes on the metal bed as you nod, “Please move.”

He clasps an arm around your middle, hunching forward. His scruff and lips tickle the top of your spine as he begins to rut into you. It’s already too much - Din grunting, his chest hair scratching your upper back, his muscled arms holding you in place as he fills you over and over. You begin to clench around him again, crying out harshly in a rush of pleasure. Your legs shake, giving out underneath you.

The Mandalorian’s large hand splays across your breast, and he pulls you backward onto your knees alone, welding you to his perspiring chest. As his length plunges up into you, his lips brush your ear. He’s whispering something, but you can't understand the words.

Then, Din exhales with a groan and rolls several long, pulsing strokes, burying his come as deep as he can with a final, gravel-filled grunt.

***

In the dark, there’s only the sound of two people fighting for breath. Din has leaned against the cool wall; he tugs you to him. You sit somewhat beside him, your legs tangled together. Your head rests on his heaving shoulder, and every now and then, you feel the press of his lips in your hair. He laughs once, quietly.

“What is it?”

“Your life is not the only one that has changed.”

Blinking rapidly, your heart glows with warmth. Yours had changed the most. This Mandalorian had come into your non-existence and given you everything. Courage, freedom, responsibility, love.

“I know you like to fight, but this is one I’ll win,” you laugh softly.

___________________________________

Tagging:

@morks-watermelon

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfic #pedro pascal #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #my writing #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #my fics #personal #grogu

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months

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more clone^2 thoughts

you know who i just remembered ALSO has long hair? Vlad. Vlad Masters. Danny's worst enemy and biggest pain in the ass ever since he sent those vulture ghosts after his fucking dAD. Danny having long hair would make Vlad so inSUFFERABLE. Like look!! Proof that you are much better off as MY son. We have matching hair lengths! Come be my son! I will make you a halfa like me and we will become powerful allies together!

Danny almost chops it off out of spite. He ends up not doing it because he likes his hair long, actually, very much so and he's not growing it out again just because you're crazy! He's attempted to take a pair of scissors to Vlad's hair though -- THAT was a fight that got ugly. Danny's go-to threat whenever he sees him after that is that he's going to chop off vlad's hair when he's not looking - just you watch, Masters. He'll do it. HE'LL DO IT.

And if Danny wasn't keeping it a tight secret, he'd turn around and taunt Vlad about being a) a clone and b) a clone of BRUCE WAYNE. he'd say stuff like:

"How's it feel knowing my parents cloned a man richer than you"

"you're just mad that bruce wayne is more my dad than you'll ever be!"

"it could've been you that my parents accidentally cloned instead of Wayne, but instead you fucked off for twenty years instead!"

but also its a constant question Danny asks himself how he and no one else ever figured it out sooner that he was a clone. He doesn't understand how Vlad of all people didn't realize it when he went to college with the man with his parents and was also stinking rich, before remembering that he doubts Vlad remembers anyone who wasn't his parents in college, and has been a rich, recluse loser this entire time.

its a good thing though, danny's pretty sure vlad would attempt a hit on the man if he found out out of pure jealousy and indignant rage. And then he'd get his ass beat by Batman and his army of children.

All in all, Dany is a pure menace towards Vlad whenever he gets the chance, as is normal, and then Vlad's suffering gets doubled after he makes Ellie - of which she is even worse than Danny because she's the halfa that Danny Is NOt and thus has the powers to break into his house easy peasy and wreck shit. She steals his obsidian black card and goes on a shopping spree. This is a regular occurrence.

(and for anyone who isn't aware - Ellie is the same age as Danny in clone^2 bc i thought it'd be fun)

And then it gets tripled once Damian joins the family and gets caught up to speed on all of Vlad's tomfoolery and whoops, Damian's got better stealth skills than Danny and looks like Ellie has a partner in crime whenever they need to sneak into vlad's house to cause him grief.

Vlad's walls are the first canvas for Damian to test out his new spray paints on once he gets them :)

next up

Wes weston! i love this guy, he's so funny and he definitely knows danny is the Phantom in the clone^2 au. it's not as easy to figure out as it is in canon since its not just a simple colorswap, but perhaps he sees Danny taking off his mask after a daytime fight. and after that he becomes determined to reveal that quiet, strange fenton is the vigilante phantom.

he's putting some real,,, detectiveness? stalkerish? skills to use because catching photos of phantom is not as easy as it is if he were a halfa. He can't just snap a few dozen photos of fenton and phantom and then color compare the two of them either - Phantom wears a mask, and works primarily at night or in evenings, and typically avoids the living during the day. And he doesn't speak to the living either. Wes has to put in some extra work into his investigations and evidence.

He also makes the dumb mistake of cornering Danny in the bathroom one day early on and telling him he knows he's the Phantom -- now that Danny knows that Wes knows, he's going to be even more careful not to get caught. He puts in a little extra work in both Fenton and Phantom - another layer, perhaps a jacket, as Phantom, and baggier pants and boots he never wears as Fenton. His hood stays up in the daytime.

He was already putting in some extra effort to appear creepy and unsettling as Phantom - things like crouching low, tense movements, fluid movements. If he's perched on something he does a kinda-crawl like movement - think a mix between a bear and a gorilla crawl. It's weird, creepy. And he stares. Danny's mastered the art of not needing to blink for long periods of time, so if he sees you and sticks around he stares. It doesn't help that you can't see his eyes that well through his mask - its just two piercing green.

It helps endear him to ghosts and his enemies though - the annoying little human boy is engaging in ghost culture! That's eliciting some form of begrudging respect from his enemies.

And then compare that creepy, almost cryptid-like behavior to Fenton who, while considered a freak, really isn't anything more than just some dorky weirdo with occasional heart problems. He's kinda unsettling - he has those 'stares into soul' eyes - but its leveled by the fact that he's kinda just... dorky. It reads as normal, awkward kid behavior, and then gets disregarded completely as he gets older and it bleeds into 'very chill teenager'. Fenton being Phantom doesn't compute that much.

Paulina: you think Phantom is Fenton? Wes: I don't think, I know he is! I have proof-- Star: Just because they both have black hair doesn't mean they're the same, Wes. That's like saying Paulina and Manson are sisters because they also have black hair.

Wes's attempts to out him as Phantom means that Danny is a little more wary of him than he is in canon, since his vigilante identity isn't an entirely different ghost form its just him, so he has to be careful about where or when he takes off his mask in case Wes is around. Especially during daytime fights.

But other than that he has a lot of time messing with him. Wes is trying to convince his table group at lunch that Fenton = Phantom (again) and Danny just so happens to be within earshot of him and starts making fun of the idea.

"You think I'm Phantom?" and he's got the most disbelieving grin on his face that's only partially convincing. "That's totally bogus, man. The Phantom famously doesn't get along with my parents, why would I be a ghost hunter and not work with them?"

He has this most shit-eating, delighted look in his eyes that Wes knows is pure manic glee at being able to mess with him and get away with it. Wes is going to strangle him.

"Besides, dude, did you forget I have a heart condition? I can't be chasing around ghosts - my heart would give out from all that running and jumping."

Although Danny can get really serious at the flip of a coin if need be - especially with Wes when he gets too pushy about him being Phantom. A notable instance is when Wes cornered him in an empty bathroom to again talk about him being Phantom.

Except Danny, who had been working on a really difficult cold case about the death of a child, and hadn't gotten much sleep in the last 72 hours, plus a plethora of other stuff (like recently acquiring Damian, fighting ghosts, etc), wasn't in the mood to entertain him. It ended with Weston getting pinned to the wall and lowkey threatened by Danny. He apologizes for it afterwards but it's not forgotten.

Additional note: Wes Weston having a crush on Danny Fenton is a hilarious trope to me so Wes absolutely has a crush on Danny and the only one in denial about it is him. Everyone else - except Danny because he's more focused on the fact that Wes knows his identity, and has other things to worry about - knows about it, and everyone chalks up his obsession with Danny as being part of said crush.

Wes' friend: you know usually when you have a crush on someone you normally confess, maybe ask them out, pine from afar....

Wes: i dont--

Wes's friend: not accuse him of being the local ghost-fighting vigilante. Seriously, wes! His parents are ghost hunters!

Wes: i do not have a crush

Wes's friend: and ghosts aren't real! everyone knows that's a lie!

next up

Dan! Or Dante, but i'll call him Dan for the time being. Even if I dislike the name with a passion. Much like Wrath from my Childhood Friends au, Dan here is pretty different from his canon counterpart. Mostly because I wanted to experiment with Dan and different interpretations of him, and I thought; hey, where no better than an au where Danny has no powers?

so, dan? Dan is not a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost halves -- now, don't get me wrong, danny still ends up under vlad's custody care after the death of his family, but he just doesn't fuse with Vlad's ghost.

So, what happened? What happened is that Vlad convinces a grieving Danny that he should let him make him a halfa (despite the fact that he has no idea how) because the he could go find his family in the ghost zone. Danny is in no mental state for any kind of experiments, but his hope and want to see his family and friends again gets him to agree.

It backfires. Vlad doesn't make Danny a halfa, he just ends up killing him completely. Danny comes back instantly as a ghost however, and enraged over being lied to, betrayed, and murdered, ends up killing Vlad in furious cold blood. He doesn't fuse with his ghost half, there's no ghost half to fuse with.

So a grieving ghost, Danny flees into the ghost zone. And, in this iteration, doesn't end up destroying the world. So how does TUE end up happening? Well, ten years later - with Danny remaining a forever 14 year old ghost - Dan ends up finding out about time travel. He finds out a way to travel back into the past, and he does.

So he can take over his past self's life. Danny just thinks he's fighting a weird doppleganger ghost, but ends up getting overshadowed. It's like being in a weird limbo, and Danny's not really sure what's happening - but his friends figure something out. After all, its been ten years since dan saw his friends, something has to give.

And that episode happens. Danny ends up meeting clockworth, beats Dan. But, well, it's not really happily ever after - somewhat. Ehh.. sorta. Danny's been traumatized by Dan's overshadowing - making him realize that despite everything, there are things ghosts can do that danny simply cannot and he needs to prepare for it. Onset paranoia, anyone?

Dan tells them his whole tragic backstory - there's a chance for redemption here, for him. For forgiveness. Not immediately, not yet, but its there. And he doesn't want to go back to the future - he's alone there. He's tired of being alone.

But he ends up being convinced - he needs to learn to look forward, not cling back. He can build himself up again, find new family. He doesn't have to be alone. So Dan goes back to the future.

"But come tell me if Vlad's giving you trouble --" and he smiles something wicked, "I'd be happy to handle him again"

and finally

not so much as any concrete thoughts as it is just me being emotional over Danny and Damian's brotherhood in this au and also Danny's hands. Again.

lIKE.. I put it in the tags of my reblog of my "danny's scarred hands' ficlet but im putting it here and its just?? Danny grabbing the blade of Damian's sword. Him grabbing the sword multiple times despite the fact that he knows it will hurt, that he will hurt himself. That he will keep hurting himself until Damian himself stops.

its just like??? whats it mean to spill your own blood just so that this little boy you've just met won’t have to ever again. he doesn't know any english and he is hurting you and yet you take him home and get him new clothes. he runs away and you go looking for him, every single time. you teach yourself arabic first so that you can converse with him.

this boy is a clone and so are you. you're a clone of his father he's a clone of your son - by nature of your existence this is your child. except its not your child, you don't have one, its just a little boy who happens to share the same dna as you. and you take him home and he becomes your little brother.

what's it mean when its you whose been hurt rather than him? whats it mean when you’d hurt yourself again just so that he can start to heal, so that he knows that he’s worth it? you cut your hands on his blade, catch its swing, just so this boy can know, can learn, that there’s someone who will bleed for him. that there's someone who will scar their hands just to make sure that you wont scar yours.

you’re a bleeding heart and its spilling out onto your palms. you take bloody fingers and wrap it around your little brother’s and say "its okay. it’s okay. you’re safe. no one will hurt you here. i promise. i wont let them. no one will hurt you so long as i'm around."

"put the sword down. i can show you how. let me show you how."

and damian in this au just reminds me of the song "eight" by sleeping at last. like?? the lYRICS. he is sO "eight" coded

'show me how to lay my sword down for long enough to let you through.' 'here i am. pry me open. what do you want to know?' 'im just a kid who grew up scared enough to hold the door shut and bury my innocence' 'but here's a map. here's a shovel. here's my achilles' heel. im all in palms out. im at your mercy now and im ready to begin. i am strong enough to let you in.'

"by nature of our existence we are father and son, but by choice we are brothers. we are brothers we are brothers we are brothers. and i love you"

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #clone^2 #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp dc #dp dc crossover #dpxdc au #dpdc au #ITS JUST. THEM. IM SORRY BUT ITS THEM AND I LOVE THEM.#damian's guilt of hurting danny and the consistent conversations they have from that. danny always tells damian he forgives him.#'i hurt you' 'i know' 'im sorry' 'i know'#'one day i hope you forgive yourself just as much as i have forgiven you.' 'repeat after me: its not your fault'#'youre my brother and i hurt you and im sorry. i love you.'#i should get around to making a post about the batfam meeting them but i just!!! I love damian and danny i love their dynamic #and i know that i was the one who decided that its years before they meet the batfam after meeting each other but its still just a choice #that im stil so happy about because they become brothers! they meet the batfam and they're expecting baby damian to be like how damian was #when he arrived in the manor but he's not. he's not. he wears funny graphic tees and his older brother is bruce's clone and its so clear #that they love each other. bby dames steals his brother's flannels and gets chased around by him. and they roughhouse like brothers do #and his older brother is bruce's clone and he throws damian over his shoulders and calls him 'dames' and 'dami' and 'my boy' and its so #so obvious that this clone of bruce utterly adores damian.#and i had the idea before writing this that damian's first english word is 'star' and he turns to danny and calls him star when he wants #his attention for something. he points at him and says 'star' and he doesn't do that much anymore now that he knows english #but its one of the first signs of him trusting danny when he first arrived.

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ganondoodle · 1 year

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more thoughts

big part of why i loathe what totk did with its story and lore is that it tremendously hurts botw in retrospect

i said that before and mentioned all of these points before as well but i just have to mention it again; how totk did away with all the little mysteries in botw, like the ancient hero looking kinda strange leading to lots of interesting theories- WHOOP its a sonau mix guy revealed through a collectable and its straight up said by purah/impa that that is the ancient hero .. like it was an always known fact ......

the sonau ruins in botw of a long gone group of people that lived in the forest of phirone - WHOOP those are just monuments built by hylians in memory of the sonau and actually their real architecure isnt rare and few but everywhere en masse and doesnt resemble the ones from botw at all, aside from some vague dragon motive; theres more stuff of the oh so sadly gone and not at all mysterious anymore sonau left than there was of the ancient shiekah in botw (and now it doesnt exist at all anymore, who cares about them, how important they were, or this worlds history, especially zelda, she never cared about shiekah or history that wasnt about sonau :)))) )

one of the biggest crimes, to me, personally, is what totk did with the dragons not actively mind you, but still changed my view of them and i hate it; i always saw them as these ethereal otherwordly spirits older than time itself (i liked the idea of them being like a final evolution of the dragons from skyward sword, tho of course i dont need that to be canon lol) and then totk comes along and .. the newly revealed -always been there super cool- race of people from the sky is heavily based on their designs ... and they have armor sets imitating the dragons ... and have ... magical never heard of before stones that turn people into .... dragons .... i get how that can be an interesting thing for people to connect but for me personally ... its a mystery that REALLY shouldnt have been solved, at all, or even touched, the fact that you knew nothing about the dragons other than they are here was what made them feel so much more divine and awe inspiring (i know you could try to think of it being the other way around, the sonau worshipping the dragons so much they dedicated all of their cultur around them ((but then again were is that anywhere, if they worshipped them so much then they sure didnt matter in any of what we say of them in memories..)) ... but the sonau designs, the armor ... the stones ... its all such an obvious connection ...) and its really hard for me to ignore it, i actively have to work now to keep seeing the dragons as these untouchable ethereal spirits instead of some sonau guy eating a fucking stone

and yet again its like .. can you really blame me for feeling weird about the sonau/dislike them when ... theres nothing that WASNT touched by the sonau, they already had tech way above the level of the shiekah, they were in the sky, the surface AND the underground all along, theirs is the actually important influence on the history of the world, they have been in every place that was once important, hell they were in every place were a settlement of people is EVEN THE FEW YEARS OLD TABURASA (tarrey town), their buildings look like they were abandoned 10 years ago, all their shit is still working, they founded (this) hyrule, they are the royals, they are the gods, they are the dragons, the ancient hero was a sonau mix clad in waht totk made out to be their signature design elements-

we had recordings from that time (tapestry) and even PEOPLE (the monks) and yet the sonau were a total mystery? even though their culture was literally still there when the shiekah built their tech?

what gets me escpeially is how .. they didnt NEED to erase anything shiekah, they didnt need to act like they never existed, they didnt need to make the sonau be the coolest guys ever and were so desperate to get that into your thinking everyone in the game is obsessed with them and tells you why you should be obsessed too

like am i just insane or is it a rather .. obvious connection to make that the shiekah found the tech of the sonau and built theirs inspired by what they could find, it was so old at that point that its non functional or even recognizable in the present, but when the shiekah found it they could still research it; given how the shiekah built multiple shrines and puzzles to them WITHTIN ruins that, in botw, were sonau ruins, i thought that was the logical line to draw and a good way to connect them while still leaving the sonau to be a mysterious ... mystery (this is what im going for in my rewrite btw)

also another thought, if the ancient shiekah could see the future to a degree they built stuff to prepare the next hero for the next calamity that would happen in thousands of years .. how did they never find out about gan? i know they were more about the future than the past but like ... were they really so stupid to see that the calamity will come back just the same from the same place and NOT investigate?? ESPECIALLY considering that the weird half sonau ancient hero was literally THERE when they saw the furture and built all of that for it???? the sonau werent gone gone in any sense and you CANNOT tell me that the shiekah jsut ignored this weird half whatever looking guy outfitted in an aesthetic and culture that wasnt obviously present anymore and clearly connected to somethign else, with probably clear scars were whatever buildings were lifted into the skies- SOMEHOW- and monoments LITERALLY STILL READABLE IN THE PRESENT that tells you about all theshit that went down?? even if you hid them with some weird mechanisms, are you realyl not gonen investigate?? also why hide it anyway?? if its supposed to be a monument to the sonau why the fuck would you built stuff to HIDE the information from it?? gan cant reach it anyway bc hes KINDA STUCK you are telling me the group of people with a vision of the future and high tech stuff that are famously obsessed with the stars and sky didnt see any of the sonau shit floating around there?? ohoho but it was hidden by magic uwu WHY bc you wanted to wait thousands of years for the "right" link to come around?? so you let thousands of people suffer and die just bc you wanted a specific guy? why not the ancient hero instead?? and solve the problem right then and there?? or would that mess too much with the history all of the sudden, you didnt care about messing anythign else up before either

its all just so messy if you start to think even a little bit about whatever the fuck happened in totk and i ahte it, it solves stuff that didnt need solving, ignores or even erases stuff that didnt need erasing and was all ready to go and be more explored, its infuriating

(also additional thought about the previous rant where i mentioned how characters, esepcially zelda, regress HARD in chaarcter development) someone mentioend this about link and ... YEAH, in botw the main thing was the connection between link and zelda, how they didnt like each other at first and at the end were THE brotp; in totk, aside from zelda mentioning how strong link is, theres nothing, the link that was revealed in botw to only be so silent and expressionless (not fully but like supressing everythign rly) bc of the immense pressure that was put on him is now just the most importanest sword guy who didnt even shed a tear when you get the memories of zelda basically killing herself; or did he know she will just be returned to normal with no harm or memory done no problemo in the end?? i dont WANT link to talk mind you, i never want to hear him talk tbh, i like him being mostly silent aside from his grunts when he climbs a cliff or soothes a horse (i go non verbal in high stress situations too) but you could have shown him be affected by it at all, or idk DO ANYTHIGN WITH THEIR RELATIONSHIP they are best friends whod die for each other but that doesnt actually matter in anything bc he just do what sword man does-

#ganondoodles talks #zelda #totk #ganondoodles rants #it really is a replacement for botw isnt it #might as well not have happened

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nerd-cat-rambles · 3 months

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Danganronpa V3 Chapter 3 Notes: (Daily/Deadly Life)

I've decided to put all my chp.3 notes on one document to keep them together for you guys to easily find! Here it is!

OMGGG THE STUDENT COUNCIL IS SO CUTE! (DRV3) Tsumugi, Tenko, Himiko, Angie, KEEBO!!! My respect for keebo has gone up, he's such a cutie!!!

TSUMUGI IS SO CUTE IN THAT PIC AHH I LOVE HER SMSMSMSMSMSM!!!

It's so sweet that Himiko is actually getting up and helping out! And it's cool Angie is teaching everybody about Atua... even though it's kinda creepy and fishy, it's nice that they're willing to learn.

Uh... Kaito? What's wrong bb, why are you so oddly quiet.... why do you have your hand up to your mouth like that?!

Bro I spent my first FTE with angie and gave her the red beret which she said she loved, but no further interactions were unlocked, and I didn't gain any friendship fragments? Anyway I did a couple more and...

Rare-Pair unlocked ahh moment

Bro are you kidding me I just spent time with Tenko and gave her something she liked and didn't get a fragment :( it's okay, I have another chapter with Angie, Tenko, Tsumugi, Himiko and all the people I want to spend free time with! (I hope...)

Training Trio... duo? Kaito flaked out? Erm what.

"Overthinking things and worrying about what I "need" to do... when I'm with Kaito, I feel like... all of that stuff just fades away." <- Oh, Shuichi I know what you are...

Wait... Kiyotaka Ishimaru is a god???

Tsumugi: "I've been wondering... does Atua have red eyes and hair as black as night?" <- KIYOTAKA??? HUH? HUH?

Angie: "Atua has whatever features you desire." <- Tsumugi and Taka good friends, canon event??? Pre-despair canon no clickbait?!

Tsumugi: "A red-eyed, black haired god.. Ah, what a cool God I have watching me!" <- heh fruity god "When can I meet him!? I want to meet him as soon as possible!" <- Oh... Uh about that...

(After Angie breaks the flashback light):

Angie you're acting too much like a protagonist here... the last person who tried to maintain peace in a Killing Game was Byakuya in SDR2...

Okay but Angies plan for a sacrifice is actually good, if you get somebody like Ryoma who didn't want to live, killing them in the time limit would be easy. She should've kept her plan among the Student Council, though. Because, now everybody knows her plan.

NVM She's reviving Rat-Ho Amami

Rate-Ho getting development caught in 4K? Will he come back and now what his talent is? EXCITING OMGGG!

Wait if Tenko's Atua is handsome like she says, does that make Atua a guy? <- Who Tenko likes?! Augh Tenko pls don't die, it's double murder time I reckon'-

Worrying about the next Victim with Nerd-Cat!:

ERM KAITO WHY ARE YOU ACTING ALL SUS ON ME MAN? DON'T GO DYING PLEASE POOKIE I LOVE YOUUU

Despair Disease coming back? Kaito bb is this what it is? KAITO DON'T HOLD IT IN, YOU HAVE TO TELL ME DUDE, PLEASE?! YOU WEREN'T AT TRAINING BB, DON'T GO OFF KILLING PEOPLE, DON'T DIE YOU HEAR ME DUDE?!

Fte with Kaito and Tsumugi:

KAITO LET ME HANG OUT WITH KAITO GAME, DON'T DO AN ISHIMARU ON ME BITCH LET ME HANG OUT WITH MOMOTA BEFORE HE GETS HIS ASS WHOOPED LET ME HANG OUT WITH KAITO RESS=adspoujwes I WANT TO HANG OUT WITH KAITO MO-

smoogie >:3

Are you fucking kidding me... I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE STUDENT COUNCIL LET ME HANG OUT WITH TSUMUGI TENKO AND ANGIE AUGHHHHH WHO DO I HANG OUT WITH NOW?!

Plan B: (FTEs)

@sleepy-pile-of-ashe told me to hang out with Kokichi this one time, so I'll do that for them :3

(*pulls a hammock out of my ass*) Here Kokichi!

And then I spent time with Maki, because I don't love her, but I want to love her, yk?

She's pretty chill, I feel bad for her. It must be a hard upbringing, but she's alr. :) I like her now after her first FTE.

Afterwards: "O-oh... hey bro perfect timing." Oh. Oh no. MFs who say "bro" don't come back from the KG the same. Oh no Kaito.

Training with Maki:

TENKO BB OMG HIII! ILYSM TENKO UR NOT BRAINWASHED HIIII OMG QWIAUOSDFHFJ

Angie is such a cutie though omg <3

OH MY GOD SHE MADE WAX STATUES OF THE DEAD STUDENTS WHAT THE FUCK THAT SCARED ME SO BAD???

I don't like Himiko x Tenko tho, because Himiko doesn't CARE about Tenko?? Tenko x Angie solos.

"Get mad! Get upset! Yell at me! Just fight back already! Do something!" Oh Tenko... (ishimondo flashbacks* "You are wrong! You have to be wrong! Mondo would never hurt a fly, he'd never murder anyone!" "Bro... bro what's wrong...?")

After trying to get Angie to stop the Seance with Tenko and Maki:

MAKI ROLL?! OMG THATS SO CUTE AHEFWUYAFHBSJWDNKHUEFDB

Oh! Kaito's just scared! Okay we good. (There's an underlying problem here guys, this isn't good but I'll take his fear of ghost stories into accountability.)

"Fear... why am I nervous...?" <- Every danganronpa protagonist before finding a body.

PLEASE NOT ANGIE PLEASE NOT ANGIE PLEASE NOT ANGIE PLEASE BE SOMEBODY ELSE, ANYBODY ELSE, PLEASE NOT ANGIE PLEASE NOT ANGIE

...

Body discovery #1:

ANGIE NO

Investigating/Seance:

I kinda forgot to document the investigation, but the seance is happening.

"Keep your chin up and live life facing forward! Survive with me and everyone else" ... Oh dear. Tenko. Please don't.

"Alright, Himiko! I'll see you later!

Kokichi: "I-I know... it wouldn't be funny if a body discovery announement happened during this."

Tenko: "Please don't jinx us!"

---

Tenko: "Understood. I will not say a word until the seance is over!"

Tenko: "Okay, everyone! I'll see you guys after the seance!"

HELL NO SHE DID A RANDY!!! (Scream)

Tenko rn: :,)

(BTW I turned off the bgm for the caged child seance stuff because it'd be a better atmosphere overall.)

---

THAT'S CREEPY BRO WHAT THE HELL?!

WHAT WAS THE *THUNK!* NOISE?!?!?!?

Kiyo: "Is the caged child... Angie Yonaga?"

What's...going on...?

Himiko: "What's wrong, why won't Angie answer?"

---

There's blood under the cage... there's blood.... oh no... oh no. OH NO. TENKO?

---

KOKICHI WHAT THE FUCK YOU FUCKING SCARED ME HOWD YOU GET ALL TJAT BLOOD ON YOU LIL BRO WHAT

---

Okay this is getting long, I'll reblog with the trial notes while I'm doing it. It's gonna be quiet without Angie and tenko but we will live. I'll avenge them :3

#danganronpa #v3 #V3 #Angie yonaga #Tenko chabashira #Kokichi ouma #Oma #Kokichi oma #Kaito momota #Drv3 #Dr3 #tumblr #Erm what do I tag this

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intervalart · 5 months

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I absolutely love your art of Sundown, he’s one of my favorites (next to Akira) 🙂 honestly he’s hilarious in the Dominion of Hate, he’ll literally fight Akira for no reason, he’s got this “tired single dad handling 6 kids” energy to him, and he even like…scolds Oersted? It sounded like? (His voice actor, Reagan Murdock, played Aki Hayakawa in this anime called Chainsaw Man, so i guess he has experience with voicing a guy who needs to wrangle teenagers 😅) do you happen to have any hcs for him?

I'M SO SORRY IT'S TAKING ME SO LONG TO GET TO THESE ASKS, i'm packing to move, so that's taking up most of my time and energy ;;;v;;;

BUT THANK YOU SO MUCH WAAAAAAA, I'm glad you like how I draw the schüt man <333 (who has somehow accidentally become The Muse, whoops lol)

Sadly there are currently no in-game dialogues showing how he interacts with the other party members (party banter like octopath is a common DLC request), but Mad Dog has a line about Sundown "being bad with the little ones", which is either Mad Dog's interpretation based on what he wants to see, or Sundown's stoicism and bluntness really does tend intimidate the kids. (I don't watch CSM so I will take your work for it... But I'm sure Mr. Murdock does a great job! He has a great voice for it...)

But from what we do know for sure (from his recruitment quest and his dialogue to Sin when out of the party of the final 4) is he is very tired, and wants nothing to do with you.

tbh that's part of the reason I'm fascinated with him, is in a whole party full of spunky/quirky anime youngsters who have Psychic powers, martial arts, laser canons, ninja powers, etc. (the oldest being Masaru who's usually hc'd at 25 years old for the meme).... there's just. A guy. Maybe late 30s/early 40s. With a gun.

People joke about Masaru being the Straight Man (which is true to some extent), but I feel like he handles the weirdness a bit better than Sundown does, just on account of his adaptable nature. If Mad Dog's reaction to O. Dio's true form was any indication, supernatural stuff is... Not normal for their time period. So I think Sundown is much more the Straight Man in the DoH just cuz he stands out so much from everyone else. (not that he isn't silly in his own way... he's based on Clint Eastwood ffs lol)

...and I wrote all of this text without even getting to my headcanons, so if that isn't any a warning for how much I can ramble about him at length, then let this cut should tell you. (you asked, sorry not sorry lol)

So warning in advance, there's gonna be a teeny bit of overlap with Mad Dog hcs on some of these because of how much the two intertwine with each other. They kinda come as a package deal.

Some of my hcs you've probably seen in this comic. Most notably; not just the survivor's guilt, but also in the panic of the raid on the town and the flurry of using the Hurricane Shot, he's not entirely sure if he only shot the invading bandits. :( He worried he might have gotten some townsfolk in there too. (Mostly illustrated on pages 5-6 when all the figures kinda blend together)

At the time I made the comic I thought it was just a theory that he'd placed the bounty on himself, I somehow missed the fact that it was canon. But the fact that it is canon definitely drives home both the survivor's guilt, and him fearing death despite having a death wish. (There's much easier ways to off yourself homie, you don't gotta have a bizarre death ritual with randos obsessed with fame and glory... </3)

On the earlier topic, he might not so much be bad with kids, as he is... blunt. He doesn't sugar coat stuff, and he's probably very hands-off. If he really was the respected sheriff of [Unnamed Town], he probably had some experience with kids in the past, but I suspect between the trauma and some degree of wanting to keep everyone else safe, he's cold and aloof on purpose. He was probably more sociable before The Incident. (Much like a certain blond knight)

But he does work well with others in the DoH and is brief but polite to everyone, even the younger characters. (I cry every time he says "thanks" or "sorry" when another party member heals him... TT0TT)

All that aside, some of the more domestic hcs:

• I think Sunny is very skilled at sewing!! Living out in the wilds and not having access to new clothes very often/if at all means he had to get good at repairing his own clothes. And between sleeping out under the stars and the bullet holes, he has plenty of practice... (MD called him girly for it once, and with a completely straight face, Sunny said "Why do you think being self-sufficient is inherently feminine...?". MD never mentioned it again.)

• The trade-off however is that he's... Not an amazing cook. Everything is either eaten raw or roasted over a fire, and he doesn't have a ton of access to spices and herbs in the wilds... Very utilitarian in his cooking methods.

• That ties into the next point; the dude's got a cast iron stomach. If the guy can canonically down an infinite number of glasses of milk (LONG after most adults develop lactose intolerance), the guy can eat pretty much anything. Including whatever rattlesnakes (and cactus) he found to eat.

• Sunny is probably a very skilled dancer! If for no other reason other than dodging bullets for years lmao. MD catches a glimpse once. Sunny looks him dead in the eyes and says "No one will ever believe you."

• I've already discussed this, but Sunny probably used to be left-handed, and either due to societal necessity or an injury, he became ambidextrous!

• Now that I'm thinking about it actually, I drew Young Sundown in the comic with much less facial hair to just make him look younger... But it actually makes sense that between the depression (and possibly self loathing), he kinda uses the facial hair as like... A mask? Like, so he doesn't have to see himself in a way? (I might be reading too much into it, the OG art does show he shapes his scruff and it's not completely unkempt, so maybe it started as Depression Scruff, and he just shaves it as best he can with a knife lol)

• I used to hc that he didn't name his horse because he didn't want to get attached. (He just calls it Horse) But after talking to another Really Cool Wild West Artist in the JP fandom, it's not impossible that he could have had the same horse the entire time... So that's not a hill I need to die on lol.

• For obvious reasons, he's a hard guy to get to laugh. If he does, it's usually wry and understated. But on the rare occasion he does genuinely laugh, he's more inclined to stifle it at first, more out of habit than anything else. It takes a lot to get him rolling in the aisles.

...But that's getting into BBFF territory, which is a whole 'nuther post, and definitely not something I have rambled about at length and stored on a hidden discord server.

AND that's not talking about my Mad Dog hcs......

-gripping you anon- Do you see why I am in hell.

#live a live #anon ask #answers #not art #long post #the sundown kid

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flare-the-freak · 8 months

Text

Made a fix it JJK au bc sillies! So here's some random silly things :3

I post more goofy stuff on my friend's and I's JJK server! I'll drop the invite below ;)

The only reason this somehow happens is because Toji gets paid MORE by Gojo, so he gets a salary by Gojo and ends up more in an uncle position with Megumi and Tsumaki! More in depth is Gojo helps Toji get back on his feet, and actually chooses to yoink Megumi and Tsumaki so they doesn't get stuck with the Zen'in

Suguru DOESN'T defect, but still hates non sorcerers, and sometimes rants to Gojo about how he wishes he could just- implode them! Non-sorcerers tend to avoid Suguru since he sometimes talks about this in public

Curses are actually integrated into society! There's two "types" of curses that you can encounter. The Normal curses we know (Animalistic, runs on fear as fuel, extremely dangerous and tend to kill a ton of people) or "Humanoid" curses, IE Jogo, Hanami, Mahito, etc! Non-sorcerers can see both breeds, however usually only interact with Humanoids!

Yuji, Sukuna, Choso, and Kenjaku (in Ms. Itadori's (does she have a name?) body) all live together. Kenjaku never gets in possession of Geto's body (since he doesn't die) and Sukuna is an elder brother to Yuji, but younger to Choso. Same abilities but toned down

Sukuna is a third year at Jujutsu Tech

Choso is in college, studying the fine arts

Kenjaku is a single mom. She's not the greatest in this, but damn it he's trying! (and genderfluid)

Gojo and Geto teach at JJK tech. Gojo even got Toji a job there!

Rainbow comes back! No one realized curses can reform and keep it's memories, or it's just a special case..but she's back! She found Gojo once when he was on a mission, she very clearly wasn't tethered to Geto anymore, but still clung to Gojo like a giant cat. She shrank herself down to the size of a big dog and followed him home

Gojo and Geto now have Rainbow in their house, Megumi was so mad (Curses don't need to eat though, thankfully. She keeps shredding his bed with her nails though.)

Speaking of Megumi, him and Sukuna have known each other awhile, and Sukuna tries to wing man him AND Yuji (He hates watching them pathetically flirt. It makes him so mad)

Sukuna came home with face tattoos (inspired by a JJK art piece I saw will tag once I find!) after being dared by his friends to get them while drunk. Kenjaku grounded him for 3 months. Anytime someone asks, now Sukuna says it's part of his cursed technique.

oh whoops! dropped some ocs in there! shout out to @notagremlim

for their sona Grem who I've traumatized beyond repair using Toji! GREMJI BRAINROT TIME! <3

Grem and Toji were married, until Toji got involved with some dumb shit and divorced his husband as Toji didn't want them involved. Grem was...not happy when Toji came back. Refused to talk to him for like- 3 months. Toji was like a pathetic cat, and Gojo was not great advice considering bro was a teen dad and still traumatized from getting mauled!

Speaking of getting mauled, Itadori meets Megumi through Sukuna, who had to come pack for a trip and Megumi (against his will) is forced to come with! Gojo wanted Megumi to have experience on the battlefield against the "feral curses" (Geto isn't happy.) And Itadori...man bro is GONE. Even Kenjaku is raising a brow. Megumi summoned the divine dogs to take care of some curses terrorizing some little kids, and Yuji is like "Oh shit! He's handsome and is a dog person?" Sukuna decides to take Yuji with, who then figures out his cursed technique is....well throwing hands. Pretty much canon stuff there but without Sukuna's abilities and the fingers.

Curses are extremely abundant, with humanoid ones actually helping to exorcise the feral ones. Mahito is a bit of a menace though and Jogo and Hanami are just there to keep him in check

Gojo sometimes works overtime to make sure Geto has time off in case he noticed Geto spiraling

(Suguru has to bring this up when Gojo was gone for a week, came home, and immediately collapsed all six eyes out. And yes. He has a legit six eyes here, it's just he hides it with cursed energy! But when he's super excited about something or REALLY tired they pop out, or if he just- is relaxing at home.)

Server join below ;)

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hugmekenobi · 1 year

Text

S2: The Bad Batch (7)

Chapter Seven: Back to the Past

Gif by @jenstar1992-2

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Some time has passed since everything that happened at Kamino and you and the Batch are trying to figure out your place in the rapidly changing Imperial galaxy. And you're having to do all this whilst figuring out where your relationship with Hunter fits into it.

Chapter Summary: Going on a mission with Phee sees you travel back to a time you had been wanting to forget and of course, trouble manages to find you.

Masterlist for S1

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, swearing, my interpretation of how Nal Hutta is, brief moment of anxiety, reader having a dodgy past and being a bit shady/reckless (cause apparently I need to include flaws lol), beatings, injury descriptions (mentions of blood, stabbing, bruises, death), protective Hunter is a bit mean to Phee, hurt/comfort, fluff and feelings, light angst

Word Count: 7.3K

Author's notes: Tried to get the best of both worlds with the off show plot for this chapter so hope you enjoy! Excited to get to work on episode 8 now and thanks for all the support and patience!

“Hello, hello!”

You turned in the direction of the chipper voice and saw Phee waltz through the door.

“Phee!” Omega called out happily.

“Hey, kid!” She said with a wave before she made a beeline for you and Hunter. “How’s my favourite couple doing?”

“What do you want?” Hunter asked by way of answer.

“Straight to the point. That’s what I like about you, Bandana.” Phee charmed.

“What is it, Phee?” You asked again.

“I got word of a lead on-”

“Some sorta valuable, ancient artifact?” You and Hunter sussed.

Phee nodded. “I need some assistance following up. Was wondering if I could borrow you and Omega?”

“Yes!” Omega replied instantly but a sharp glance from Hunter told her she better hold off until she had official confirmation.

Your brow furrowed. “Why just us the two of us?”

“Typically, we do missions together.” Tech pointed out from the table you.

“Don’t worry, brown eyes. You’ll get your turn at some point.” She said.

Tech didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just focused his attention back to his datapad. He missed the smirks from his two brothers sitting across from him.

Phee now answered your question. “Figured it would be good for the kid to keep seeing new places and it’s a simple mission so little risk. And we made some progress back on Kaldar, let’s not lose that.” She left out that she wanted the time to also figure you and certain behaviours of yours out. There was something more to you that you that she needed to uncover.

“Okay.” You said hesitantly, still not fully satisfied with that answer but you sensed you weren’t going to get anything more.

Phee turned her attention back to the two of you. “What do ya say? I promise not to let either of your girls be hurt or led astray.” She told Hunter as a means to sweeten the deal.

Hunter focused his gaze on you. “If you want to go, you can go. I also have a feeling she won’t let you stay.”

Phee feigned a look of surprise.

You shrugged. “Gets me outta here for a little bit, I guess.”

“That’s the spirit.” Phee said with a roll of her eyes.

“And me? Please, Hunter?” Omega begged.

I’ll be an extra set of eyes, she’ll be alright.

Hunter sighed. He wasn’t thrilled by this by any means, but he had promised himself to give Phee a chance and you were going with them so that helped things a little. He nodded his permission.

Phee carefully observed you and Hunter. The two of you did it again. That secret, slightly above normal silent communication that seemed to go through you both with perfect understanding.

“Yes!” Omega whooped in victory before she gathered her stuff and darted towards the door.

“Where exactly are we going?” You queried.

“Nal Hutta.” Phee replied.

That made you pause but you covered it quickly. You heaved a sigh and pushed yourself up from your chair.

“Show some enthusiasm! This is going to be fun!” Phee said with a smile before she started to follow Omega out.

You made sure your armour and weapons were secure before you faced Hunter. You gave him a chaste kiss to the lips before his arms enveloped you in a hug.

“Be careful, yeah?” Hunter said as he released you.

“Hey, it’s me.” You said with an innocent grin.

“I know. That’s why I’m asking.” Hunter said, his tone light but the intent behind the words serious.

“I’ll be fine.” You said before you waved to the others and jogged to catch up with the other two.

“Nal Hutta, huh?” You repeated as you walked in the direction of her ship.

Phee cocked her head at you as she heard the slightly nervous way you spoke. “Yeah, not too rough for you, is it?”

You shot her a look. “No. There’s just… some people I’d rather not run into.”

“It’s a big place, the odds of that happening are low.”

“Tech gives much better estimations than you do.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure his sway on the more pessimistic side of things. That’s one thing you gotta learn about me, (Y/N), I like to look on the bright side.” She thumped your back. “Now, come on! We got a lead to hunt down.” She jogged to catch up with Omega.

You were yet to be convinced by that philosophy. But you��d allow her this opportunity. After all, it had been quite a few years since you’d been there. The odds had to be low… right?

Nal Hutta

“You know this place is not going to be glamorous.” You warned Omega as the ship touched down.

“How long did you live here for?” Omega asked. She’d seen the anxious look on your face the whole time the ship had been en-route and she knew that if she asked about it, you wouldn’t lie to her.

“A few months. It wasn’t my scene.” You replied briefly as you pushed up your hood and mask up as high as they could go just as the door opened.

It had not changed. The green and yellow tinge to the environment around you was just as off putting as it had been when you first smuggled yourself here.

It was hot.

It was humid.

You already felt a layer of filth settling on your exposed skin.

And the swamp rain had already started and the stench from said swamps made your nose wrinkle under your mask. You had forgotten how bad it was. You chuckled as you glanced down at Omega to see her hand over her nose. “Told ya. Just let it hit you for a few minutes and then it’ll be fine.”

Omega reluctantly lowered her hand.

“Where’s this lead, Phee?” You asked, adjusting your weapons.

“We won’t need those.” Phee said confidently. “My source is in the local watering hole.” She pointed over to the only bar in the area.

Of course, they are. You thought irritably to yourself. You almost wished your travels for this source would see you go into the swamplands because at least out there, the likelihood of running into someone who might recognise you would be minimal. Going to this bar significantly increased the risks for you.

“Did you come here?” Omega asked as the three of you headed towards the run-down bar.

You kept your sight low as the people you passed on the way over gave you all the once over. “Uh yeah, was a regular back in the day.”

“Really, here?” Phee said with surprise.

“It was a different time.” You said by way of justification.

“What brought you here in the first place?” Phee asked.

Omega glanced up at you, curious about the answer herself.

“Just had to get away.” You said airily.

“From what?” Phee pressed. “And what exactly did you do here anyway?”

The already thick air started to feel like it was settling in the back of your throat. You didn’t like that Phee kept pushing it. “It’s not really any of your business, okay?” You snapped.

Phee raised her hands and backed off. “Damn, okay. You can have your secrets.”

You took a breath. “I’m sorry I snapped. It’s just a period I don’t like to remember, that’s all.”

The rest of the walk was done in silence and when you came upon the rundown wooden door, you were filled with sudden flashbacks of meetings and drunken brawls you were set with the task of ending. You shook the memories away as you opened the door.

A low thrumming from a music box in the corner echoed over the voices and sounds of glasses clinking. You smiled fondly to yourself as Omega looked around in wonder and took in the various people and species that occupied the room. Bounty hunters, gangsters, people scraping by and more- Nal Hutta was the sorta place that attracted the people on the lower half of the scale.

Phee pointed to the bartender. “This shouldn’t take long. Take in the sights. I’ll be done soon.”

You nodded and led Omega over to one of the many dark corners of the cantina and kept a watchful eye over Phee as she talked to the bartender.

You were getting twitchy now. It looked like Phee was struggling with the bartender and each passing minute of their struggle was making your heartbeat that little bit faster.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?”

You brushed off the hand on your arm that was starting to face you. “Uh no. Sorry, you got the wrong person.” You grabbed Omega’s hand and started to move away but couldn’t stop him as he darted in front of you.

You stopped short and kept your eyes to the ground. “Sir, I’m just trying to get past.”

“Our friend is over there, and we need to join her.” Omega added, doing her best to help you.

The man swore your voice was familiar. He stooped and finally caught a glimpse of your eyes as you tried to avoid his. “It is you!”

“You have the wrong person.” You insisted before you started pushed past him.

“I don’t think so.” He acted quickly and went to pull your coverings down.

You shoved him away, but he managed to hook a finger in your mask, and it fell.

“Well, I’ll be damned, we thought you were all dead. I know someone will be pretty pleased to hear you’re not. She was really pissed off, you know.”

Fuck fuck fuck. You thought repeatedly. You ignored and shouldered past him. You were out of time; word would travel fast now.

Omega followed your hurried footsteps. “(Y/N), what’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later, Omega. We need to leave.” You replied hastily. There had been no point in pulling your mask back up, so Phee got a good look at the nervousness lingering behind your eyes as you approached her.

“Hey, you okay?” She asked.

“Do you have it?” You said instead. “We need to go. Now.”

“Well, we can’t yet. Someone is changing the terms of the deal.” Phee griped, crossing her arms in frustration.

“You want more money?” You guessed as you talked to the barkeeper.

He shrugged. “Information ain’t cheap.”

“The amount we agreed was-”

“Give her the data.” You interrupted Phee and kept your attention on him.

Phee and Omega observed you. Your manner had completely changed. You were distant and cold as you dealt with him.

The bartender guffawed and rested his arm on the bar counter. “Cute negotiation tactic but no. My price has gone up.”

You lazily rolled your eyes and within the blink of an eye, your vibroblade was pinning the lose fabric of his shirt to the wooden counter and you held his head on the counter, so he had little choice but to angle his eyes up at you.

A shocked Phee and Omega took half a step back.

“Here’s how this is going to go.” You whispered in his ear, your voice firm and intimidating. “You’re going to give her whatever it was you promised, for the original price, and you’ll get to keep your hand attached to your body. Okay?” You hoped the threat was enough, you weren’t wanting to descend back into the way you had acted here in previous times.

“No.” He grunted.

He was stubborn, you gave him that, so you tried another method. Riskier but was a way for everyone to leave unharmed. You channelled the Force and directed it towards his mind. “You will give her the information.”

“I will…” He trailed off and shook his head. “No. I won’t.”

You pushed harder and went again. “You will give her the information.”

“I will give…”

Omega deduced that his reaction was due to you using your Jedi abilities and she knew you wouldn’t be using them unless it was truly necessary, but she worried for you as she glanced at Phee. The woman was looking at you with a keen sense of interest.

You weren’t wanting to do this for a third time so you waited as you could sense his resistance was fading.

“I will give you the information.” He said finally, his voice hazy before he reached down and put the data card on the counter.

Phee picked it up and glanced between you and the barman. What the hell had she just watched?

“Pay him and let’s go.” You said emotionlessly as you sheathed your blade in your vambrace and turned to leave.

“You wanna tell me what that was?” Phee demanded as the three of you hustled out the cantina.

“What was what?” You deflected, avoiding her stare and nudging Omega in front of you.

“Nuh uh.” Phee grabbed the top of your arm. “You can’t just insist we leave, get the information from a man who was adamant about not revealing it, and then run out without saying how you did it and why we suddenly need to go.”

“Phee, you got the information you wanted. I don’t see what the big deal is. We need go.” You implored as you turned around to face her.

Any protest Phee was going to offer died on her lips as she caught sight of the crowd of people approaching.

“But we haven’t had the group reunion yet.” A sing song voice laced with venom called over to you.

You closed your eyes in despair and slowly turned on your heels to face the crew you had really wanted to avoid. The two Gamorreans were new but the two Trandoshans, three Twileks were from your time. Your eyes however focused in on the leader. She looked the same as she had when you’d left. Slim odds my ass. You thought to yourself. You stepped forward slightly, so Omega and Phee were more behind you.

“Hello, Vaya.” You said coolly.

“It’s been a long time, Two Knife.”

“I meant to come visit.” You lied, no warmth behind your words.

“Two Knife?” Omega repeated as she looked to you, but you didn’t turn to meet her eyes.

You cringed as you heard your old nickname leave the young girl’s mouth.

“For the two vibroblades she used when she was part of us. No blasters, only ever those knifes. I think she liked killing up close and personal.” Vaya taunted cruelly. “Though it looks like you traded one of them in. What happened? Grow a conscience in your time away?”

“Shut the fuck up.” You snarled.

Vaya sneered. “Oh, what’s the matter, (Y/N)? You didn’t tell your new…” She looked to your companions and gave a mocking laugh as she saw the child. “ ‘crew’ about your old friends?”

“Take it these were the people you were hoping to avoid?” Phee worked out as she saw the icy stares the two of you were giving each other.

“Friends is a generous term.” You said but you didn’t want her to keep talking. You didn’t want Omega knowing exactly what you had been a part of here. At least not from her. It had all been an act built from repressed anger, disappointment, and misery, but you were ashamed of what you’d become in your time here.

Vaya pretended to look wounded. “After all we achieved in this shithole. You want to forget it so eagerly? Then again, that would make sense. You stole from us and ran pretty quickly.”

“Yeah, well, finding out you were giving a cut of what we stole to the Separatists during the war wasn’t what I signed up for.”

“So, I take it you haven’t come to pay it back?” Vaya said with a glare.

You couldn’t help the laugh that left your mouth. “Nope. I am dead broke and, as hard as it might be for you to believe, I did not come here for you.”

Vaya’s lip curled into a nasty grin. “Then it’s just my lucky day.” With that, she clicked her fingers and her subordinates straightened up and cracked various bones in their body.

Omega, you, and Phee get back to the ship. I’ll meet you there.

“No, we’re not leaving you.” Omega hissed as she kept her bow activated.

Phee glanced down and the young girl and then to you. There it was again. That level of communication that was something more than just good team chemistry. She was sure you hadn’t spoken yet Omega seemed to know exactly what you had said. Plus, there was still that incident in the bar that she needed to follow up on. What were you?

You didn’t take your eyes of the group in front of you. Trust me. Please. “All this because of a little money I stole from you years ago? Can’t we just let bygones be bygones and no one gets hurt?” You reasoned with Vaya whilst Omega tugged on Phee’s arm and turned to go in the direction of the ship.

“You know our law here.” Was Vaya’s steely reply.

Yeah, you did, and it had been why you’d avoided this place like the plague after you’d left. Money was all anyone here cared about and they didn’t care who they hurt to get it. And… you’d been a key part in that for a while.

Phee hesitantly moved backwards. “(Y/N), you sure-”

“Get outta here.” You ordered firmly.

Phee didn’t like it, but you seemed determined and the last thing she wanted was Omega getting caught in any crossfire. She left you behind and ran back to the ship with Omega.

“After them.” Vaya signalled to the two Gamorreans.

Two quick stun shots from your blaster halted any movements from the two as they dropped to the ground. “You deal with me, or the next round leaves a more permanent outcome.” You said with a hard stare.

Vaya merely shrugged. “Fine by me. So long as the result is you dead in the ground.”

“Still got that lovely street demeanour.” You mumbled. “Same rules I take it?” You asked, already unholstering your blaster and tossing your vibroblade a safe distance away.

“It’s like you’ve never been away.” Vaya jeered before she took a step back and allowed her crew to advance towards you.

“Fucking hell.” You wheezed as you shoved the dead Trandoshan off your chest. His body flopped to the ground with his neck sticking out at an awkward angle. You didn’t want to kill him but when you found yourself on your back with his clawed hands squeezing your throat, you were left with little choice.

You hunched on all fours as you worked your way up to stand but you didn’t get very far. A hard kick was sent to your ribs, followed swiftly by one to your stomach. You rolled across the ground and retched before you were allowed to get to your feet. You swayed and pointlessly wiped away the blood running from your nose as you faced the two twileks and the lone trandoshan. One companion dead, the other unconscious on the ground.

As the two twileks stalked towards you, you called on the Force to give you that extra bit of strength you found yourself needing. “Four down, four to go.” You said to yourself before you raised your arms and let them come to you.

The two twilelks- one red skinned, one blue- started their attack first. They came at you from either side. You remembered these two and from what you recalled, they weren’t the brightest of the bunch and you only hoped that would remain true. As the red one made to strike you, but you ducked and instead his fist crunched into the nose of the second one who yelped in pain.

You kicked the red twilek in the groin which sent him crumbling to the ground and whipped round to face his friend. He was still nursing his hurt nose, so you easily dodged the aimless and distracted swing of his arm. One well-placed and strong hit of your elbow to his temple followed by a harsh punch to the underside of his jaw had him collapsing to the ground but it was after this you got yourself into a bit of trouble. You were sluggish and didn’t turn around quickly enough to stop the second twilek from grabbing the back of your neck.

The remaining red-skinned twilek hit the back of your knee and kept doing so when you didn’t immediately go down. Once you finally succumbed, he pinned your arms behind your back and the trandoshan got to work on punching your face.

It was a struggle to stay conscious as the assault continued and so you acted swiftly. When the next hit came, you tipped to the side and the punch wound up in the gut of your captor you let your hands go on instinct as he doubled over.

You forced yourself to stand up quickly and you faced your two foes once more. All of you were breathing heavily.

“Any chance you guys want to call it a day?” You tried, your jaw aching with the effort and the metallic taste of blood was filling your mouth and the back of your throat. You spat it out.

The answering growl and ‘fuck you’ gave you your answer.

“Alrighty then.” You sighed. Your best bet here was to use their weaknesses against them. Both were eager to be the one to deliver the final hit and that meant they were unfocused. You ducked, weaved, and parried their strikes for now. It was almost like you were dancing in a pattern to get them closer to each other whilst they were aiming for you.

One misplaced kick from the twilek combined with a perfectly timed dodge from you meant that the trandoshan got clipped in the thigh which caused his step to fumble as he got ready to set himself once more and that was your moment. You dashed round the back of the twilek and twisted his arm behind his back and used him as a shield when the trandoshan barley looked up and threw a powerful punch but rather than you sinking to the ground, it was his teammate.

You tutted and shook your head as you released the unconscious body. “Didn’t anybody teach you that you’re not supposed to punch out your own gang member?”

“I forgot how much shit came out of your mouth.” The trandoshan hissed.

You shrugged. “Keeps things entertaining.” With that you and the trandoshan went at it once more.

The two of you had been going at it for much longer that you would’ve liked.

You were able to punch his cheekbone but, at the same time, he sent a strong kick to the centre of your chest sent you sprawling on your back. You released a winded cough and as he stepped towards you, you swept your leg out and took his out from under him. He fell to the ground, and you took your chance. You groaned with the effort it took for you to climb across his chest, but you managed it. His fist skimmed across your jaw since you moved it away in the nick of time, so the resulting impact of the punch was lost. You lifted his head and smacked the back of it off the ground a few times before he too was left unconscious. You moved off him when you were sure he wasn’t going to come back around.

You were only allowed a moment of respite since you still had one more person to deal with. You braced a hand on your knee and heaved a few deep breaths. You spat some more blood out your mouth, stood and beckoned Vaya to come towards you.

Vaya snarled and ran at you, knife in hand.

You dodged the quick jabs of her knife, but you were sore and exhausted, your movements had grown slower. You didn’t quite manage to avoid the next swift, well-placed stab of her knife. It sliced through your side. You swallowed your shout of agony and stumbled backwards. You ignored the pain and sensation of warm blood dripping down your body. It would give Vaya too much power if she saw how badly she’d wounded you.

Vaya smirked. She hadn’t missed the way your face had contorted as she made contact with you. She studied her blade which was now dotted with your blood. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“You always were a cheat.” You said through laboured breaths.

“Give up now, and I promise I’ll make the rest of it quick.”

“Nah, this was all to give you a fair shot.” You taunted.

Vaya snarled and stalked towards you once more.

You studied her and when you saw the glance she sent towards your shoulder, and you grabbed her wrist and bent it back, so she was forced to drop the knife.

You caught the movement of her other fist that was aiming for your mouth. You blocked it and managed a punch of your own that met her cheekbone. You then landed a kick to her stomach which sent her reeling back.

She was pissed and, unlike you, had all her energy. You knew the longer this went on, the less likely it was that you would be the one walking away. You needed to get under her skin and make her lose focus, so you smirked as you saw the welt that was already swelling beneath her skin. “Knife strike followed by a punch to the mouth. It’s still the same but then again, you never were all that creative.”

Vaya cried out in frustration and charged towards you.

You knew what she was going to do. You let her tackle your waist and ignored the wave of agony it sent through your body as she repeatedly hit your open wound. You pushed the black spots encroaching on your vision away and kept your feet. You kneed her in the ribs which caused her to loosen her grip for a moment. You did it again and again until she let go and regrouped.

Vaya saw the weary and pained expression behind your eyes. Your heart wasn’t in this, and she could use that. She caught her breath back and ran at you again.

This time though, you couldn’t fight the pain it caused you and you weren’t able to stay standing. The two of you crashed to the ground. You felt her reaching out to the side and when you turned your head, you saw why- her knife was within her grasp. You made the rather unwise decision to headbutt her, an act that saw stars exploding behind your eyes due to the pain it caused your already injured face. It only dissuaded her for a second. You choked out a pained grunt as she placed her knee on your chest- limiting your movements- and managed to get her weapon back.

Vaya straddled your chest and brought the knife down towards you.

You blocked her descent with your forearm, but she continued to press down, and the sharp point of the knife was edging closer to your throat. You let the Force flow through you and found whatever reserves were left within you and pushed back- hard- and used your other hand to lift her elbow to the side. You could tell by the way the knife was moving away from you and the sheer frustration in her face that you were going to get out of this. You managed to get her half off you but the momentum you had caused meant you rolled too, and she kept it going.

The two of your struggled on the ground, the knife getting lost between you both and it was then you heard the sound of metal meeting flesh.

You weren’t sure how it happened, and you wished you had found a way to stop it.

You watched the fearful realisation in her eyes, and you glanced down. You pushed off her you and she fell to the side. You gingerly sat up and recoiled in horror as you saw her knife embedded in her own chest. “Vaya, I-”

“You always- always were the stronger one.” Vaya rasped.

You bowed your head. You didn’t want it to go like this. “I’m sorry.”

A pained laugh rattled from Vaya’s mouth. “You’ll- you’ll understand if I don’t feel like forgiving you right now.”

You released a low, sad laugh. “Can I help?”

“No, I’m-” Vaya coughed, and a trickle of blood left the corner of her mouth. “I’m done.”

You watched as the light left her eyes and her chest stopped moving. “I’m sorry.” You whispered sincerely before you gently lowered her eyelids. You had never wanted this.

You stood up and made to take a step but instantly felt your knees buckle as your beaten body finally let itself be feel all the aches and pains you were experiencing. You slouched to the ground. You finally pressed a hand into your side and hissed in discomfort. You lifted your shirt and examined the wound. It wasn’t as deep as you’d feared but it was no small cut either. You definitely needed medical attention. You released a shaky breath as you got to your feet. Your knee burned under your full weight so you had to accommodate your step accordingly as you weaved your way through the bodies, picked up your abandoned weapons and made your way back to the ship as quickly as your body would allow.

Phee and Omega took in your battered and bruised face as you limped towards them. You were clutching your side and there was a blood trail behind you.

“(Y/N)!” Omega cried anxiously as she and Phee ran towards you.

“I thought you had a handle on things?” Phee said as she reached for you.

You waved them both off and grimaced. “I did. Just-” You readjusted your stance and groaned in pain. “Just get- get back to Ord Mantell.” You kept one gloved hand on your side as you all boarded the ship.

You winced as you sat down and took the cloth from Omega and put it over your nose to stem the blood flow.

“Hunter is going to kill me.” Phee mumbled as she turned her worried gaze from you and got the ship in the air.

As Omega started to take off your armour and anxiously watched the way your eyes flickered, she wasn’t confident enough to tell her that he wouldn’t.

“AZ, we need you!” Omega shouted urgently as the three of you entered the parlour.

AZ dropped the tray of dirty glasses in his hand and whirred towards Cid’s room. “Bring her back here.”

The rest of the Batch jumped to their feet as they saw you slouched against Phee.

“What happened?!” Echo asked as he and his brothers hustled over to you.

Your only reply was a pained grunt.

“We ran into some lowlifes.” Phee explained for you as she strengthened her grip on you since she felt you lean into her more.

“Where’s Hunter?” Omega asked quickly.

“He’s out with Cid.” Tech replied, already halfway to the exit.

“Don’t-” You sucked air through your teeth in discomfort as Echo and Wrecker took over from Phee in supporting you. “Don’t bother him. Give me 20 minutes and I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.” Wrecker disagreed. “You know what he’d do to us if we didn’t tell him this?”

“I’ve been imagining a few scenarios.” Phee piped up.

“I’m going to be fine.” You protested through gritted teeth. You didn’t want to worry Hunter with something that in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t a big deal and would be sorted pretty quickly.

“I do not suggest we test the idea.” Tech advised before he slipped away as Echo and Wrecker began to lead you into the back room where AZ was setting up.

“What are you after, Goggles?” Cid asked roughly as she saw Tech sprint towards them.

Tech ignored her.

Hunter took in the look on his brother’s face and his muscles tensed. It was a rare sight to see Tech looking troubled. “What’s wrong, Tech?”

Tech caught his breath back. “It’s (Y/N), she’s hurt. She-”

Hunter didn’t wait to be told the rest. He just started running.

“Hunter, hold on. Don’t-”

The warning calls from all his brothers didn’t stop him. He made a beeline for Phee.

Phee saw both the fury and panic on Hunter’s face and that was a dangerous combination. She dashed around to the safety of the bar counter. “Hey hey hey. Let’s just talk.” She said but she couldn’t quite keep the fear at bay, so it came out her mouth very quickly.

Omega had paused for a moment to watch but she knew she’d be better off helping AZ treat you, so she left the main parlour.

Wrecker acted quickly and braced his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. He knew his brother wasn’t going to physically hurt Phee- it wasn’t his nature- but he couldn’t guarantee the words he would say would carry the same considerations.

“What. Happened. Out. There?” He spat angrily at her as he shoved Wrecker’s hand off him. He stopped his advance, however.

“Everything started off fine. We just-”

“Clearly it wasn’t. You told me they would be alright!” He couldn’t stop his voice from growing louder. He was too wound up and upset to think straight right now.

“We were. It was only at the end where-”

“I don’t care when it was! You said nothing was going to happen!”

“I-”

“I know you like to lie about your various adventures, but I didn’t think you would lie about ensuring the safety of my squad!”

“If you would just-”

“Guess you really are a pirate.”

“Look, I didn’t think anything would go wrong! I can’t control what she does! She has her own mind you know!”

That made Hunter pause. ��What are you talking about?” He took a deep breath and relaxed his stance a bit.

“Oh, you’re letting me get a word in now?” Phee retorted.

“Don’t.” Hunter warned. “Just tell me what you mean.”

Phee sighed. “Look, overall things were fine. It was just at the end. She got all jittery about needing to leave so we did but then we ran into some people that she insisted she deal with herself. I wanted to help but the kid was there, and (Y/N) told us to go. And technically, she did handle them. She got away, didn’t she? She’s right here. It’s not my fault she felt the need to take on a whole gang of people by herself.”

“You-”

“Hunter, instead of focusing your attention on Phee, why don’t you go check on (Y/N)?” Tech interjected.

Phee shot him a look of gratitude.

Hunter’s jaw clenched before he gave Phee one last glare and hustled through to the back room.

He practically crashed through the door when a big enough gap opened and you hastily covered the wound on your side that AZ was beginning to tend to. You started to sit up. “I told them not to bother you.”

“I am not yet finished with my examination.” AZ said, indicating that you should lie back down.

“What happened?” Hunter asked, his voice tight as he struggled to keep the distress at seeing your bruised face. Your lip had split and there was a cut along the bridge of your nose. Not to mention the purple and blue welts that were scattered across your face, particularly your cheek, eye, and jaw.

“You should see the other guys.” You joked before you winced as AZ started to work on your stab wound.

“Believe me, I wish I could.” Hunter said with protective rage.

“I’m okay, Hunter.” You comforted as you patted the side of the bed in invitation.

“Are you okay?” He asked to Omega first.

Omega nodded as she cleaned the spots of blood from your face and took off you gloves to clean the scratches on your knuckles before applied the bacta to the various bruises on your face. “Not even a scratch. It was an interesting mission until it went a bit wrong.”

Hunter hung his head in relief before he took your hand and came to sit by the bed. “How’s it going, AZ?”

“The bruises on her face and ribs will heal quickly. Her knee will take longer but the treatment is the same- some bacta and rest. This wound on her side, however, is more concerning.”

“AZ, I thought we said not to mention the injury there.” You grumbled.

“Yes, AZ, what’s concerning about the injury on her side?” Hunter said, shooting you a look.

“The knife wound isn’t deep, closing it up will be a simple process, but the blade that inflicted it was unclean and there is subsequent dirt from whatever happened after the original wound occurred. I am worried about infection.”

“See, a ‘simple process’.” You said with a small smile.

“The ‘worried about infection’ part just didn’t reach your ears?” Hunter chastised.

“I’m choosing to not think about it. And looking out for your health. You know, you should be avoiding unnecessary stress.” You said breezily.

“Forget about my non-existent blood pressure issue. You were stabbed!” Hunter said, hanging his head in utter exasperation.

“Lightly.” You corrected with a slight smile.

Hunter breathed deeply. He wasn’t prepared to be calm about this yet.

You felt the distress that rippled through him. “Hunter, I promise I’m feeling much better.” You brought his hand to your chest and let him feel your heartbeat. “See? I’m right here.”

Slowly but surely and with each strong beat of your heart, Hunter started to feel himself relax. “Do you have enough supplies to clean it, AZ?”

“I do. The process will just carry a degree of discomfort.”

“Feel free to squeeze.” Hunter said softly as he kissed the back of your hand as he held it.

You gave him a grateful smile before you signalled for AZ to start.

“I have finished my treatment.” AZ declared.

“Thank you.” You said as the droid left the room. You sat up. Your still body ached but you figured that would be the norm for the next few hours at least. You accepted Hunter’s help to stand and practically fell into his arms as he didn’t give you much time to get oriented before he wrapped them around you.

“You know the idea of letting me just walk in and find you like this with no warning was a sure way to put me through unnecessary stress?” Hunter murmured into the top of your head.

“I know.” You admitted. “At the time, I thought it was the better route to go down.”

A beat of silence passed before Hunter spoke again. “I need you to be more careful, okay? We can joke all we like but when Tech said you were hurt…”

You pulled your head back to look at him.

“I can’t lose you.” He murmured as he brushed the backs of his fingers tenderly across your bruised face.

“You won’t.” You reassured him, your voice gentle.

“I could have. On more than one occasion and it’s not something I ever find myself prepared for.”

“Hunter…”

“I know the risks of what we do. I account for everything, or at least I try to, but the one thing that I always struggle to plan for is losing anyone here, especially you. If I-” He stopped before he tried again. “If I lost you, I think a part of me would die with you.”

You cupped his face and looked deep into his brown eyes. “Good thing that’s not going to happen.”

He swallowed thickly. He knew you both knew there were no guarantees in this galaxy but hearing you say it helped, nonetheless.

“It won’t.” You affirmed again. You wouldn’t let it. He and this squad were a source of light for you in the ever-growing darkness of this galaxy and if you didn’t have that, you dreaded to even think about what you would do. “I’ll stop being reckless and you avoid heights.” You said with a smile.

Hunter laughed. “Sounds like a decent plan.” He hugged you again.

“How much did you lay into Phee?” You asked with a knowing smile as you adjusted your head to glance at him.

“I was probably a bit harsh.” Hunter admitted on reflection.

“She told you I told them I’d handle it, right? She was actually following an order.”

“Yes.” Hunter grunted in displeasure. “When you’re 100% I’m going to come back and lecture you about that.”

You snorted out a laugh. “Come on, Sergeant. We got some apologies to make.”

As you hobbled into the main parlour with Hunter providing a helping hand, Phee dashed to hide behind Wrecker.

“What did you do?” You admonished with a playful punch to his arm.

Hunter winced at Phee’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Phee.” He said genuinely.

Phee peeked out from behind Wrecker. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I was scared and I took it out on you when I shouldn’t have.”

Phee fully emerged. She could tell he meant what he was saying but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a bit of fun first. “So, you’re sorry you yelled?”

“Yes.” Hunter nodded.

“And you’re sorry for not letting me get a chance to explain first?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sorry you blamed me?”

“Yes.” He said again, not liking the direction Phee was taking this but he had it coming.

“And you’re sorry for implying that I would deliberately endanger your team?”

“Yes.” He squirmed.

“And you’re sorry for calling me a liar and a pirate?”

“Hunter.” You scolded.

“You were injured!” Hunter said awkwardly. He really had been an ass. “I didn’t know how badly; I just knew you were hurt and reacted with a bit more emotion that I should have. I’m sorry.” He said again.

Phee nodded appreciatively. “We’re cool, Bandana. You were worried for your girl, I get it. Just next time, take a moment before you jump down someone’s throat.”

Hunter dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“And Phee, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. I was careless and didn’t fully think about how a rather protective someone would react. I’m sorry for getting you into trouble.” You said earnestly.

“Don’t sweat it.” Phee said with a wave of her hand. “I just hope you left those other guys in a worst state cause you really don’t look too hot right now. Now, if you all would excuse me, I got some treasure to find.” She had decided to wait you out a bit longer, it wouldn’t be fair to try to figure out what your deal was with your current condition being what it was.

“Let us know what you find!” Omega called after her.

Phee grinned before she made her way out the parlour.

“Do the other guys look worse?” Wrecker asked.

“They will have to be in considerably worse shape if you look better.” Tech said simply, only realising how it sounded when all heads gave him the same pointed look.

You merely laughed. “Yes, Tech, they looked considerably worse. Some more than others.” You said to yourself quietly, regretfully.

“Alright!” Wrecker celebrated as he gave you a high five.

“Can you fill us in on what happened?” Echo asked.

“I did bring it on myself, it was from a time before I met you all. Believe or not, some secrets of my past before you all still remain. And this time, Omega isn’t going to reveal them.” You kidded as you all sat down, but you were nervous. You weren’t sure of the reaction you’d get. It was a dark, shameful part of your past where you’d just left the Order and had started doubting everything you’d thought you’d known and through that, you’d lost yourself for a while. “It was pretty soon after I left the Order…”

Next Chapter>

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tezzbot · 6 months

Note

congrats on finishing your essay! :))

Love your Sonic Underground au, btw! I need some lore drops on my boy, Manic, tho. It doesn't even have to be a long explanation. Something goofy like, how many times has he been arrested?

Also! Do the triplets eventually form a band? [side-eye]

Oh my goodness, hello!! I love your art so much it's all so cool!!!! Thank you lol!

Some stuff about Manic in the au lets see...

He was kidnapped as a baby after the triplets had been sent halfway across the continent for their own safety, whoops lol, he's quite charismatic, must always have been since he managed to endear himself to Ferral pretty much immediately lol, he grew up pretty much similarly to the canon of underground, getting by stealing where he has to bartering and stuff, he's part of his own found family within the city and they're all very close, a tight-knit little community of thiefs sfgdhj, though every so often one or two of them decide to spread out (though they stay in touch), which is actually the reason for Manic's being on the train alongside the others, he has family he misses! And he has some things to get to them! (little does he know he'll be meeting more family than he anticipated lol) Though he's never actually been out of the city he grew up in himself (despite what he may claim lol), uhh he is very technically minded he loves to tinker and making little thingamajigs and doohickeys that look like they wouldn't have any practical use but he usually finds a way lol, nothing, like, robotic like Tails does, he's more a manual guy fdsgfgdf, aaand just a random headcanon he's fairly dyslexic n has some trouble reading, he usually has someone help him. There's also gender happening to him :thumbsup:

As for how many times he's been arrested lol uhhhh I think that early on he was pulled up a few times, probably spent some time in juvie, but he hasn't actually been caught in quite a while, I don't imagine Manic gets caught all that often lol you know those videos of kids running from cops and the police just making absolute clowns of themselves trying to catch them? That's Manic JHGJFG

So wrt the band, I'm sort of playing around with ideas right now? The main idea that I'm running with is that, the medallions only react to them when the triplets are getting along, when there is harmony between them (eehh? geddit? lol) that's the only time that they are able to be activated. Which, given the rocky start that they all have with one another obviously takes time, with Sonic being reluctant to share pretty important info with them and generally keeping his distance from them, Sonia's frustration with him and her being Very mad at Manic for scamming her, not much harmony going on for a fair bit of the journey. Eventually the three of them do get along and discover the powers of the medallions and they do perform a few times throughout. Eventually Sonic does spill that they're family and after the reactions they come up with the idea to use their music to get their mothers attention, Sonic is hesitant etcetc. I DUNNO! I'm still futzing with it lol I'll decide on stuff eventually fdghfg

Oh and I do want Sonia and Manic to have their own powers like a lesser version of Sonic's speed but, again, still deciding LOL

Anyway! Sorry this got so long lol, I've thought a lot about this AU! Thank you for the qs!!

OH ALSO Manic uses "bro" and "brother" on Sonic just as a casual thing but the first few times Sonic is like .Does He Know... GJFHG OKAY I'M DONE

#sonic underground au #I love it when and artist I really like and respect very suddenly pops up in my notifs this is crazy<3 #thank you for taking an interest in my silly little au lol

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boygiwrites · 1 year

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Harley D. Dixon 2

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. Get ready for the first major change in the canon story-line hehe

Please enjoy reading! :)

"You want me to sing tonight, chicken?"

It's way past my bed-time. The sky looks like a giant film of blue cellophane above us, with millions of little white holes poked through. I pick out the shiniest one, 'cause that one's my Momma. Then I realise I gotta pick one out for Uncle Merle, now, too, so I pick the one right next to Momma's and wish him goodnight in my head.

After my Dad dragged all our stuff further into the woods, because we shouldn't sleep next to people we don't trust, we curled up in his camping chair and we haven't moved since. I'm wrapped up in a grubby gray blanket that I think used to be white, 'cause it's all we got, and I'm wearing two pairs of socks plus my Dad's jacket but it's still cold. I feel like a baby joey in a Momma kangaroo's pouch. Through the trees, I can see the main camp's fires all glittering like tiny orange fireflies and I can hear 'em all laughing. I think they're celebrating. Me and my Dad — We're mourning.

Tomorrow, they're heading back to the city to look for my Uncle Merle, even though we all know he's dead already. He's dead and he's gone and he ain't never coming back, so why does my Daddy wanna go get killed, too? Don't he know I need him?

"I don't wanna go to sleep."

"Well," He reminds me, "Sometimes it don't matter what little girls want. I'm sayin' it's time to sleep, so it's time to sleep."

If he wanted to talk about it, I'd tell him that I don't wanna go to sleep because it means that when I wake up, it'll be the day my Daddy either dies in the city or he doesn't, and then I'll be all alone forever. I don't wanna pick a star out for my Dad. But I don't tell him any of this.

"Now, you want me to sing, or not?" He asks me again.

"I said," And half-way through I'm huffing this out, I know I've made a mistake, but I keep goin', anyway, because at least if I make him super angry, he might wanna talk. Unlike Officer Rick, my Dad is easy to make angry. "I don't wanna go to sleep."

I feel his stomach fill with air underneath me. "Scuse me?"

I twist to face him. Half his face is glowing from the fire, and the other half is glowing just from how mad he is.

"I... don't... wanna," I spell it out real slow. That's what people do when someone's not listenin' properly. "Go... to... sleep."

I hear main camp laughing again. For just a second, I wish I was over there, instead.

I look my Dad in the eye. It's really hard.

"You lookin' for a spanking, Harley Dixon?"

"No," My voice wobbles.

"'Cause you keep back-chattin' me, that's where you're headed."

"But—"

"What I just say?"

I snap my mouth shut like a kettle lid. Does he even have the words in him? Do I gotta beat on his chest 'till they come flying out? Do I gotta kick and yell and scream 'till he can't hold 'em in anymore? What do I gotta do to make him talk? How am I meant to like it over here, in this lonely camp with no Momma and no Uncle and maybe after tomorrow, no Dad, neither?

"Quit that look, Harley Dixon. I'm warnin' you."

"No."

"You really gonna make me repeat myself?"

I snap.

"Maybe I'on care!" I shout. We're both shocked. Then, he's about to lay me over his knee and whoop me 'till I'm black and blue, but I don't stop for nothin'. "Maybe I'on give a crap! I said I don't wanna go to sleep, so why you makin' me? I don't wanna! Uncle Merle's dead! He's dead and you don't even care!"

"How can you say tha—"

"You don't care because you're goin' back to the city tomorrow and you're gonna die, and I'm gonna be alone again, and you don't even care! Uncle Merle is dead! Just like Momma, he's dead!"

"We don't know that, Harley."

"Yeah, we do! Rick killed 'im, and now he's dead."

"That ain't true. Harley, you listen—"

He grabs my arms, but I smack him away. He gets angrier.

He points a finger in my face. "Do not fuckin' hit me, girl."

"I'on care."

Now he really grabs me, and it's so tight I can't smack him at all, or wriggle, or even look away. I see two miniature versions of our campfire in his eyes, burning away. It's a familiar look. I start to cry. I wish I wasn't here. I wanna be in main camp, where they're laughing.

"You stop this bullshit right now, Harley." He says, low. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but if it don't stop right this second, you're gonna regret it. You understand? Don't you ever hit me again. I'm leavin' tomorrow, and that's final."

"But why?"

"'Cause I'm choosin' to believe in yer Uncle Merle. You heard what all them said. There's a chance he ain't dead, and that's a chance I'm gonna take, because I'm a Dixon. Dixons look out for each other." He gives me a little shake. "If it were either one of us in that city, he'd be raisin' Hell on his way there already. Now, I don't wanna hear another word outcher mouth 'bout this. No more tears, neither. Got it?"

It's still not good enough. I want more.

"You wouldn't go back for Momma." I mutter, before I even realise that's what I've chosen to say. Somehow, that's the worst thing I've told my Dad all night, and I didn't even need to shout it. We stare at each other for a bit. "You wouldn't go back for her. You killed her."

I promised I'd never bring it up again, but there it is. I said it.

I think I might throw up again.

Just like that, our argument is over. He doesn't say anything, and then I don't say anything, either, and the not-saying-anything keeps going until we're back to sitting against each other in silence. The moon is high in the trees, now. One by one, the orange blips in the distance die. The chatter gets quieter and quieter until it's gone, and then me and my Dad are truly alone. He holds me tight, but it doesn't feel nice like it did before. It just feels like we're back to square one, because we are, and everything is a little to the left. Like when you get a pebble in the corner of your shoe, and you gotta walk a little funny to pretend it's not there, but it is, and you can feel it, and you hate it.

"You want me to sing for you, chicken?"

This time, I just say yes.

I watch the cube van drive into the distance until it's a white speck.

Dale stands next to me, even after everyone else has shuffled back to camp. "You've probably heard this from ten other people by now," Dale says, holding onto the strap of his heavy sniper rifle, "But your Dad? Well, he's going to be just fine. Toughest man in camp, I'd say."

My Dad, he's tough as nails, and he could shoot a walnut off a fencepost from a mile away, but he's also just a man. He's just skin and bones and blood like everyone else, like me, like deer and squirrels, and a bite from a dead person will kill him just the same. I don't say this to Dale.

He doesn't seem to mind. "Do you remember your first day here?"

A strange thing to ask. 'Course I remember. "What about it?"

"Things were a little more desperate, back then. We'd just ran out of our last tin of beans. People were hungry. I remember your Dad spent the whole morning telling people to leave him alone, because everybody was just begging him to go hunting. I think I did, too." Dale laughs. "One by one, he shot them all down. We were all so sure we'd have to start rationing. Then, the next morning, I go to wash my face behind the RV, and what do I see? Your Dad, dinged up and covered in sweat, dragging this... just... huge, simply huge... deer, into camp. I was gobsmacked. I remember thinking, 'who on Earth could have possibly convinced this stubborn man to go hunting'? Then, later in the day, I see him handing you a bowl of fried deer meat, happy as a clam, and that's when I knew he did it all for you. Tooth and nail, he made sure you were fed. And that's how I know he's coming back."

I think about all the times my Dad's done somethin' like that for me, like with Ronnie, and I feel a little better. My Momma once said my Dad would crawl back out of Hell on hot coals for me, and that I should never forget that. I feel bad for forgetting.

"I didn't tell him I love him, before he left." I admit to Dale. "I was real mean to him last night. I wish I told him."

"That's okay," Dale bumps my shoulder, and when I look up, there's a smile in his white beard. He winks. "I think he knows. Dads always know."

Something about Dale's cheeky attitude makes me giggle. I think I believe him.

"Now, lucky for us, we're certainly not short on food around here anymore. So, how about we go get you some breakfast?"

The day goes by like it always does, 'cause it don't know any better.

I can see Amy and Andrea fishing from the bank of the lake. Their boat looks like a little grain of salt in the middle of a giant green coin.

I'm up to my knees in the water. I'm trying to catch frogs. I'm missing. Shane and Carl are here, too, because even though we ate a whole sleeve of cheese and onion crackers for breakfast, Officer Shane says frog legs are gonna be all the rave, soon, when the peaches and jerky run out. We told him that's super gross, but he just smacked his lips and told us to grab our hats. We gotta do things like this, now. Things like sharing one tube of toothpaste, and only using two squares of toilet paper when you gotta go, and the adults gotta try and make it sound fun.

I hear Carl somewhere down the rocks, going awww and man 'cause he keeps missing, too. All I know 'bout Carl is he can't spell 'adventure'.

"Hey, man, it happens. How you doin' over there, Harley?" Officer Shane asks me. "You managed to catch any of the little suckers yet?"

"No, not yet." I say. "But I can see 'em."

When we first got down here, Shane asked us kids to provide a little muscle for him. Shane's got plenty of muscle, already. He was just kiddin'. He does that a lot, and his laugh is real loud. He also gives high fives that knock you on your butt, and he's got a heavy walk and a dog tag. I think he must have taught little league, or somethin', before, 'cause he talks like a teacher. All fun and games, but also lots of rules. Like how if you say a bad word, he flicks you on the ear and tells you to mind your language.

I'm still not used to any of these people talking to me. I think they're just glad I ain't biting and hitting on them, anymore.

"How many's in there?" Shane wades over to me.

The only reason I trust Shane is because he's an adult, and adults can be trusted.

I count the frogs. "Um... Three."

"Three? Hm, talk about a gold mine, huh?" He laughs and, yep, it's real loud. "Let's see if I can't help you out here."

He sets our bucket down, which has two wet frogs slipping around inside it.

He rubs his hands together. "C'mon, girl. Let's catch us some frog legs."

He says they eat frog legs in France. I never knew that before today. French people are weirdos.

"You gotta get 'em quick, 'cause they're quicker." I warn Shane. It's something my Dad says 'bout squirrels and possums, so I say it now, too.

"Sure are." Shane agrees. "How 'bout I scare 'em out, and you try grabbin' one?"

"With my hands?"

"What? You plannin' on using your feet?" Shane grins, and he splashes me. I giggle. "C'mon. Get ready."

Officer Shane rolls up his blue sleeves. I take three long steps backward and squat a little, like I'm playin' basketball or somethin', and then Shane grabs the metal bucket and clangs it against the rocks, and all three of the fat froggies come bursting out into the water like wind-up toys. I almost panic — almost — but that's what idiots do, so I steel myself, which means I'm not an idiot. I lunge at the closest frog and wrap my hands around the green blob it makes under the ripples.

When I pull my hands out, I realise I've caught it. It's real wriggly and its skin is cold.

I jump a little, smiling wide. "Look, Shane! I got one!"

"Way to go, Harley!" Shane says, and if I pretend hard enough, it sounds like my Dad's accent praising me instead. "Look at you!"

I drop the frog in the bucket. I hear cheering, and when I look out, I see it's Amy and Andrea. They're clapping. I guess they were watching. Carl comes hopping over, too, and tells me I did a good job. I know he's a bastard cop, and I know his friend murdered my Uncle, but maybe Shane ain't so bad. He makes me miss my teachers. Maybe this group ain't so bad. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

We call it a day after that, and we squeeze out all the water in our clothes on the gravel shore.

"C'mon, y'all," Shane says, "Time to haul butt back to camp."

What he really means to say is ass.

The sky goes from blue to purple, and soon, it'll be black.

We're gonna have a feast tonight. A fish feast.

Dale, who's sitting up on the RV, because he's like a barnacle on a boat, reads us a poetry book while we scrape scales off of fish with plastic spoons. After the book runs out, we pop cassettes in the radio. It's nothin' like what my Dad listens to. It's too nice.

I try really hard not to think about my stomach. It hurts real bad, which is what happens when you're nervous. I realise, a little guiltily, that I almost haven't thought about my Daddy or my Uncle Merle all day, until just now. I say sorry to them in my head, because I didn't do it on purpose, I promise. I was just focused on other things, like doing dishes, and getting my hair brushed by Lori, and strippin' fish skin. It was easy, during the day. But it's gettin' late, now, and every minute that goes by, I'm closer to being the only kid in camp with nobody to tuck me into bed.

I'm standing on a crate, which means I'm almost as tall as all the ladies. Makes me feel a little better. All women remind me of my Momma.

Maybe if I ask, Lori can tuck me in tonight.

"Hey, Harley, you're doin' real good over there." Jacqui tells me. The sun's on her shoulder. "Doin' better than me, at least."

I mumble a thank you, because it's good manners. I done dressed plenty of fish before. It's easy. Like peelin' bananas.

"Our Dad used to take us girls fishing all the time." Andrea tells us. "Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, you name it. We were out on the water."

"Sounds fun," Lori says. "I always wanted to go fishing with Rick and Carl, but it never happened. We were indoor people."

Jacqui laughs. "Not anymore, you're not."

Lori makes a face. "You don't gotta tell me twice."

"What about you, Harley?" Asks Amy. "Your Dad ever take you fishing?"

There it is again; my stomach climbing up the back of my throat like a balloon. "Uh," I mumble. "Yeah. A lot."

Carol asks me, "You like it? Being on the water?"

"It's okay if you don't." Amy scrunches up her nose, smiling. "I was never that into it. Motion sickness 'n all."

I'm about to say no, I didn't like it, but something stops me. It's true, I never liked stabbing the alive worms on the hook, or gettin' sunscreen smeared all over my face, or carrying all them heavy buckets full of crayfish and bluegills back to the truck, but that doesn't matter. I was with my Dad. And I liked that. So, "I liked it," I say. "We went every weekend, in Dad's boat. It was sorta old, but he liked it a whole lot. He let me name it."

Lori smiles. Lori loves when people tell nice stories. "What'd you choose?"

"I named it after our old dog." I tell her. Hey, I'm smiling. "His name was Tank. So, Dad's boat was, 'The Tank'."

Lori pouts. She loves animals, too. "Aw. That's nice. We had a dog."

"What was his name?"

"Fido," She scoffs. "You can thank Carl for that one."

"I can't imagine Daryl lettin' anybody tell him what to do," Amy chuckles. "He's always so grouchy."

Dale must be eavesdropping, because he leans over his fold-out chair and calls down to us, "Now, now, remember that time with the deer?"

The story he told me this morning, to make me feel better.

All at once, the women start giggling together, and nodding, yes, they do remember that time with the deer. I catch it, like a stomach bug, and I start giggling, too, because I guess it is kinda funny. My Dad, with his squinty eyes and angry mouth and big, scarred fists, doin' whatever I tell him to. I never saw it like that, because it's always the other way 'round. For the first time today, I'm thinking of my Dad, and it doesn't hurt, not one bit.

"Like a gaggle of geese over there," Shane shakes his head from the fire. He's laughin', too. Bunch of eavesdroppers, these people. "Get back to work!"

"Yes, sir!" Andrea salutes, rolling her eyes.

We can't stop giggling.

The fish fry is, basically, a family barbeque.

My dinner is hot, and greasy, and it's even got yellow rice and onions in it, like takeaway. Takeaway is always good. Around the fire, all I see are happy faces and all I hear are jokes, and gasps, and laughter. They're talking about college, and how Lori used to wear the ugliest skirts, and how, yes, Shane can confirm, he was there to see it and, no, it wasn't pretty. When I look through the trees, I imagine me and my Daddy's sad little camp on the other side, abandoned. I was right. It is better over here. I hope he would think so, too.

"W— Hey! They were in style, back then!" Lori holds her fork up, like a pointing finger. "Everyone was wearin' them!"

"Oh, I remember." Shane shakes his head. "N— No, listen, I remember, alright! So short it was like a damn belt!"

Amy slides off her tennis shoe and launches it at Shane's legs. "You can't argue with fashion, Shane!"

He laughs. "Oh, that's what that was? Fashion?"

"Hey, I got some pretty nasty pictures of you with that damn perm on your head, so you might wanna quit while you're ahead." Lori sasses.

We all picture Shane with a mop of curly poodle hair, prolly posing like He-Man, and we all roar with laughter again.

Up until the very last grain of rice gets eaten, we talk about everything and anything, because stories are all we got to give each other anymore, Dale says. Dale talks about how he planned to take a trip around the state with his wife, in their RV, but she passed away before it could happen. So, when the world ended, he was in a gas station, buying ice creams and lookin' at maps, 'cause he was doin' the trip on his own. He says he's glad that all the small decisions he's made in life has led him to this quarry, with these people. Everybody calls him a sap, but he gets a side-hug from Jacqui. He smiles over the fire at me. Andrea and Amy talk more about their Dad.

I talk about the tyre swing I used to have, in my yard. Shange suggests building one here, too.

Jim talks a little about his old job as a mechanic. Morales talks about how much he misses his recliner.

"Aw, man, I'm telling you," He groans, like he's in a deep, deep pain. "It was remote-controlled, and it had blue-tooth, and everything."

Shane slaps him on the back. "Too bad the world ended; Had to get off your fat ass!"

More and more warm, silly laughter.

It's around us kid's bed-time when Dale checks his watch.

The other kids all complain straight away, but we get dragged away, anyway. I can hear my Daddy's voice in my head, telling me sometimes it don't matter what little girls want. Lori and Carol take us around the back of Shane's Jeep, where all the bathroom stuff gets kept, like the gallon jugs of water, the towels, and stuff Glenn brings back from runs. We brush our teeth, and splash our hair with water, and use baby wipes on our armpits.

I can see the tippy-tops of the city's tallest buildings from here, like skinny black popsicle sticks in the smog. I keep lookin' back, for my Dad.

I'm lookin' right now. Everyone else is trying to find Sophia's hairbrush in one of the bags, but I'm not helping. I can't look away.

There's a figure, stumbling up the road.

At first, I think it's my Dad, somehow. When you're expecting somethin' so much and for so long, and with all your heart, it's the first thing you think of. Even if it makes no sense. If they were really back, they'd all be together; Glenn, T-Dog, Daddy, and Rick, because my Daddy would make them all stick together, 'cause he's smart like that. But the shadow's alone. And he's got a limp. Just a little one. He hop-shuffle-hop-shuffles closer to us. No, no it's not my Dad. There's no crossbow; no big boots, no backpack. The shoulders aren't wide enough. Actually, the shoulders aren't wide at all. They're droopy. Too droopy, like they're... like they're melting off the bone, like hot cheese melts off pizza.

I hear a gurgle through the night. That's when it all makes sense.

"Walkers!"

And one second after that, the fish feast goes to Hell.

Someone snatches my wrist. We go rushing back into camp, where there's people, and lights, and noise. And shouting. Lots and lots of shouting; so much shouting it's like being stuck inside a beehive. I see flashes of legs and t-shirts and hands pulling me around, toward the bonfire. The bonfire must be brighter than a lighthouse out here, in the dark. Suddenly, I'm noticing everything wrong with the fish fry. The smells, the noise. I'm remembering my Daddy's rules, 'bout how loud is dangerous and dangerous is stupid and oh God — I can hear Amy shrieking like a piglet, near the RV. I hear shotguns pumping and bullets exploding and sloppy plops of skin falling of the dead people afterwards. I'm screaming.

The bag — The emergency bag, the one in our tent. I should grab it, right? That's what I'm supposed to do, right? So we can live?

"Lori!" Shane's hollering. "Carl! Harley! Where are you?"

"We're over here!" Lori cries.

"Start moving!"

Everywhere, everywhere, legs, legs, legs, all rotten and slimy and dead. Then, a gap, filled with darkness. The tent is out there. The bag.

I can make it. I know I can.

"Harley!"

That's Lori, screaming like she's never screamed before, because I just broke away from her, and I can feel something hot sliding down my arm, and it must be blood, 'cause she must have ripped my arm open with her short razor nails. I run straight for the gap in the wall of dead people, and I throw myself past them, like they're bowling pins and I'm the ball, and then I'm on the other side, in the dark, dark woods, running, running, running, all by myself. I remember the path to our camp. Big rock, little tree, old fence. It's all there, it's just covered in night.

I hear Shane yelling for me, and Morales, too, and more screaming, more dying.

A dead man slams into me. We go tumbling into the branches and the leaves, and then down a little hill, and then into a ditch. I smack his growling face away from mine, and I kick his stomach, and I wriggle away. The dirt is slipping away from underneath me, like dust, but the roots are easy to climb so I climb those, and the dead man follows me out. He's swiping at my ankles, scampering for my legs, slobbering on his lips.

His nails catch my arm.

I see the tent.

I'm running again, but only for a second. It's my pants. They're stuck. The dead man's grabbing onto them. I kick his fingers off.

"Get away," I grunt.

The pebbly ground barks under my shoes when I tear off again, and it only takes a couple heartbeats for me to reach my Dad's camping chair, and then the black fire pit, and then the truck, and then the tent. I rip open the zipper and fall inside. The bag, the bag, the bag. I scramble for my Dad's sleeping cot, and drop to my knees, and pat around all the spare shirts and pants and socks and blankets he's got stuffed under here, praying, please God, it's gotta be here, like he says it is. My fingers hit something soft, then something hard. A buckle. I grab. I pull.

It's the bag. It's the bag, with the compass and the rope and the matches. I did it.

A branch cracks. I look over my shoul—

The dead man crashes on top of me, all two hundred pounds, through the tent lining. He squirms against me like a finger in a glove.

I scuttle backward as fast I can, under the cot. The dead man flops and turns and twists until he finds the tent opening, and he slithers inside, 'cause he's a hungry animal and I'm his food. An electric lamp clicks on underneath my foot. The dead man's shadow gets projected onto all four of the tent walls; big, like the bogeyman. I hug the bag like a teddy bear and then that's it, and there's nowhere else to go. His fingers reach for me, and they look like big, black, dead spiders, all curled up. I see his face, now. It's shredded. It's beaten.

It's Sophia's Dad.

Something clamps around my shoe, and it's his teeth. A whole row of thick, white teeth. A bite.

I squeeze my eyes closed and hope my shoe's thick enough to keep me safe. There's nothin' else I can do.

Then, a great, big bang.

Then, hot, slippery puddles of blood, and little bits of neck and skin and jaw, splattered across my face. He slumps. Is it over? It's over? His head's cracked open like an egg, and his brains are leaking out like yolk. There's a bullet hole between my two feet. That means — That means someone shot his shadow, through the tent. Only someone with a very good shot could have made that, without killing me at the same time. I claw my way out from under all the blankets, and the body, and the cot. I can hear voices shouting, Oh Fuck, Oh God, and, Where are you, baby, and, If you hit my daughter, I will fucking end you.

The electric lamp flutters off.

The tent is ripped open.

I look up. I'm blinded by big, white circles of flashlight light. Someone gasps.

My chin crumples 'cause I'm crying, like a little baby.

Rick's standin' there, Sherriff's hat on, revolver smoking. Shane's there, too, wild-eyed, and very, very sweaty, with a shotgun. There's Glenn, panting. They look at the blood on the blankets, and the blood on my face, and their dead friend on the floor, with half a head. Then, they see the scratches on my arm, and for some reason, some of them look like they're about to throw up all over themselves. But the person in front, the person that got here first, that's my Dad. It's my Dad, and he's alive. He doesn't even stop to look, like the others. He doesn't care.

"Harley," He chokes, like he's been punched, and he drops to his knees in front of me. He presses me into his chest. He's alive. He's alive.

I'm alive.

"Daddy," I cough-sob, 'cause I can't help it.

I only ever call him Daddy instead of Dad in my head, or when I'm really, really upset.

He must notice, 'cause the hug gets tighter; safer. "Baby, I'm here. You're alright. You're alright. S'alright, now."

I bury my face in his sweaty, stinky, dirt-smeared neck, and I never wanna come back out. I sob and I sob and I sob, and I sob some more. He pets my hair and shushes me, like how he does when I get nightmares. We rock back and forth. I sob, sob, sob.

Someone says my Dad's name real weird, like they're boutta keel over, and only then I remember me and my Dad aren't the only two people in the world. Footsteps crinkle on the tent canvas. Someone kneels next to me. It's Rick. He takes off his hat and sucks in a breath, glances at the others — He steels himself — and then he gently grabs my green sleeve, and I wriggle into my Dad, who's lettin' him do this, and he slides it up my arm. Fresh claw marks, and blood, pouring down my skin. We stare at my arm for a long time. They glance at Sophia's Dad. Why are we staring at my arm?

I look at Rick. I look at Glenn; at Shane. I look at my Dad. He's gone white as a ghost.

"Harley, what is that?" He whispers to me.

I look back at my arm. It's just some stupid scratches. I wipe 'em away, 'cause I want 'em gone. "It's nothin'."

"Harley," He says again, this time with a very clear, very angry, no-nonsense voice. "You look me in the eye. What is that?"

Something is very, very wrong.

Glenn has to walk away.

"Wh—?" I shake my head, sniffing. Why do I feel like I'm in trouble? I didn't do nothin' wrong. "It's nothin'. Lori, she scratched me."

"It was Lori?" Rick raises his eyebrows, like it's very, very important that I'm not lying right now.

I'm not lying. Rick, he's a liar, but not me.

"Uh-huh." I nod hard, so they believe me. "It was Lori. H— He got me, too, I think, but it don't hurt. I promise. He ain't do it too hard."

I didn't say the right thing.

They're all looking at each other. They're speaking without talking, and I don't like it.

"Daddy, what's goin' on?" I'm mumbling now, 'cause I only want my Daddy to hear me, 'cause I'm scared. I'm really scared. I don't know what I did wrong, and I don't know what they're thinking about, but I'm sorry, and I'll never do it again. I was so busy worrying about the teeth in my shoe that I wasn't thinking about anything else. I think I should've been, though, and I'm sorry I wasn't. I'm sorry. All I know is that I'm sorry. I don't know why, but I'm sorry. Daddy picks me up, even though he's told me over and over I'm too old for that, now. He's shuddering.

"We'll check Lori's nails." Rick tells him, nice and steady. His police-man voice. "If there's blood under them—"

"This bastard's got blood unn'er his nails!" Dad gives Sophia's Dad a hard kick in the head. I shriek. "The stupid fuck! It don't fuckin' matter!"

"It does matter. It does." Rick keeps saying. "We can't make any conclusions. Not 'til then. We just can't."

"You wanna talk 'conclusions', officer? Let's talk 'conclusions'."

"Daryl, we'll figure this out."

"How the Hell did y'all even let this fuckin' happen?" Dad yells. "You're like a fuckin' bad luck charm, you people!"

"This is nobody's fault." Rick says, but he sounds like he knows he's lying.

I can hear people panicking far away, back at camp, in whispers. Glenn ran back there a few minutes ago.

"First my brother, now my—?" Dad cuts himself off. He's about to cry.

Nobody's got anything to say.

We listen to the sounds of leaves rustling and crickets chirping and the distant yelling and the breeze and my Daddy's big strong heartbeat, which is goin' buh-bump, buh-bump, buh-bump under my ear, real, real fast.

Shane steps forward, but it's all over already.

This is what it was like the night Tank got put down. I realise that I'm like Tank. Tank was dying. I'm a dying dog. The scratches on my arm, I get it now. They're from the dead man and they're from Lori at the exact same time, and until we know which it is, that means I'm dying. He scratched me — I remember, now. He got me. He did. I don't wanna be dying. I was alive just a second ago. I swear I was.

Unlike yesterday, Daddy doesn't bat Rick off when puts a hand on his shoulder. Something changed in the city today. I think we're all one team, now, even if my Daddy likes to bite and snap and blame. There's no more line between them and us. There's not two camps, anymore. Only one.

The stars are bright, tonight. I watch them twinkle over my Dad's head.

"If this happens," Daddy's voice cracks. "Every single one of you are gonna be real, real sorry."

Author's Note. Yep, you guessed it, Jim survives! And Harley is the one that gets attacked.

No more ominous hole-digging for you, Jim. Sorry.

Phew. This took a long time to write. I had to re-work almost every scene about four times, because some things just weren't working, and I had to delete some others. It all worked out in the end, though. Here we are with chapter two.

Please let me know what you think! :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #twd #daryl dixon #parent daryl dixon #daryl dixon daughter #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #rick grimes #angst #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #daryl dixon x reader

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theaviskullguy · 9 months

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D&D Obey me- Lucifer, Mammon, + The Twins!

@trash-opposum here you go. seperate post so people can find it but here!

Disclaimer, if i do the rest, im going to avoid making EVERYONE a tiefling or aasimar, those are just for who i think are exceptionally appropriate/is how im playing them as my current dnd character is just Belphegor. If yall want me to make the others (Asmo, Levi, Satan, maybe Diavlo but who knows) let me know!

so let's GOOOOOOOO

Lucifer

Aasimar, the kind from Mordenkainen so no special extra type

Noble background, mainly cause i cant think of anything else

As for class, we have four potential options

Two varieties of Paladin, cleric, or warlock

First paladin variety- Oathbreaker

In this case he was probably originally Devotion before the revolution, and whoops! Oath Broken!

It'd either be a point of pride for him ("I fought for what I believe is right, and there is no shame in that") or he'd hide it from everyone

Second paladin- order of the Crown! obviously because of Diavlo. fellas is it gay to swear undying devotion to your future ki- *gets shot*

Cleric, then Order Domain. clerics are sworn to gods and not demons but shush his patron might still be Diavlo. in an actual D&D setting i can see him instead swearing to like Tyr or something.

he wont be healing. clerics are tanky he's out here ordering people to drop their weapons and then fucking murdering them

Warlock, gotta be fiend patron. im not sure if its possible to be your own patron but itd be funny as shit. worse case its fiend patron with some flavor homebrew as i call it to literally just be a fiend in his own right climbing the infernal ladder as he levels up

i promise the others wont be as long

Mammon

Earth Genasi as those are descended from the Dao, which are the greediest genie. Also, they just look rich with gem-like stuff growing in cracks on their skin you just know Mammon's one of them

Charlatan background. he is scamming people left and right and it works

Rogue, thief subclass. Honestly any subclass other than Arcane Trickster (hes not smart enough) or Scout (hes not equipped for the "outside of civilization" shit)

Unlike for Lucifer, the others have Backstory! Woo!

Mammon is the son of a Dao and a human. His human parent helped him escape from the Elemental Plane of Earth, but then he was left on his own

So. He quickly learned how to con people. At first it was for survival, and then greed.

He found Lucifer while running one of these cons. In particular, his "con" was a vanishing act. He claimed he could become "one with the earth" when really he was curling up on the ground and casting Pass Without Trace. Lucifer saw through this illusion and threatened to out Mammon as a conman, unless he joined him as his ally. So, he did.

Lucifer keeps him in check, but that's not to say Mammon isn't fully on the straight and narrow

Beelzebub

Tiefling!!! variant tiefling favored to have fly wings.

Outlander background, ill explain why in a sec

Barbarian. Need I say More?

actually i will- Totem animal, spirit of the bear. Since bear gets resistance to all damage (other than psychic) while raging and i feel that works with Beel more than anything

now for his backstory! he isnt canon in the campaign im playing belphie in but his backstory has the same catalyst. When he was five years old, the kingdom he lived in was caught in a rebellion against a tyrant. In which, Beel saw his older sister get killed by a royal guard. Belphie was going to be killed- but was protected by a tiefling in a knight's armor (my previous character who was killed. rip avi)

Beel, in his five-year-old mind, just ran. He took off without a second thought- a decision he now regrets deeply.

He ran into the surrounding woodlands. And gets an Atalanta-style backstory. For those who dont know, Atalanta was a princess who was abandoned in the woods and raised by bears

So Beel is raised by bears. Which is way better than being raised by wolves

They teach him how to hunt, gather, and its all well and cute. He sometimes entered the rebuilding kingdom to trade in leftover meat for clothes and weapons- and, to try and find Belphie. No luck.

Eventually, Beel grows to be a powerful warrior. Hangry, sure, but his rage hold the rage of freaking bears. so keep him fed. please.

Anyways Lucifer and the gang (everyone minus belphie) encounter Beel in the woods, watching the cubs. Beel agrees to adventure with them. He says goodbye to bear mom and promises to visit- hopefully, with his twin, next time.

Belphegor

hehe its ME

Zariel Tiefling but i dont give a shit about the infernal legacy its just There. tail is a cow's tail he basically just looks like his demon form

Hermit background. again ill explain in a sec

Druid, circle of stars! to people about to scream "i just checked the wikidot why he no circle of dreams??" because that doesnt have to do with dreams and sleep as i wished it did. its the obligatory faewild subclass. i hate the faewild subclasses (other than the bard one that ones fun)

Currently n the campaign im in we're level 5, so his two wildshapes are wolf, and a bull. But he also has his three starry forms due to being circle of stars.

now. backstory! strap in this is Long

he's saved by my previous dnd character- Avi- and is taken in by him and his husband when the rebellion was over.

Except. due to seeing his sister die and not seeing his twin after that, Belphie assumed the worse and thought that Beel also died and he was the last one of his family

He fell into a pretty deep depression and had no motivation to do anything besides sleep, cry, and eat very tiny portions of meals.

eventually his adoptive dads start telling him stories. and. surprisingly. they seem to help! Belphie is still a shrinking violet but he eats more and can cook and do basic chores!

And Then Avi Goes Missing

His husband- Skull- asks the now 11 year old Belphie if he wants to come along to find him. Belphie declines, saying he needs to get in control of his life and some big quest is probably just gonna leave him with more trauma

Skull lets him stay home, and gives him one of his feathers. So if Belphie ever needs a hand, he can call Skull over and. well. have one of his dads at least

For five years, Belphie took to studying druidcraft, and the stars. He also enchanted his favorite pillow to float and be able to carry him. So he had a little more comfort when going out to buy groceries. He'd make detailed star maps to sell in return

When the sun rose on his 16th birthday, he left a note at home saying he felt ready to tackle his own destiny, and left.

He had a brush with Lucifer, but not Beel. so close, buddy.

Anyways he arrives at The Hunters Guild, finds his parents again, and takes residence in the observatory, where he studies his stars and druid magic again. But also, sleep and dreams.

and. yeah thats where we leave off! god that was long im sorry

#obey me!#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #im sorry this got So Long #also to people who dont follow me for obey im sorry about the sudden hyperfixation #but its my blog yall just visit here

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veliseraptor · 2 years

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☕️ Golden core reveal and what it means for the two prides of Yunmeng

took a while to get to this because I needed to sit down and take a minute about it. been a bit since I got in my yunmeng shuangjie feelings but that just means it's a good time to get back in them eh

this is one of those things where I'm like...there are so many ways this could go from where it ends in canon, which is one of the things I find so fascinating about it, and why it's so interesting to pick at. because if we're talking about the side of it in canon, namely the fact that Wei Wuxian gave up his golden core for Jiang Cheng, then...that really does detonate a bomb in, particularly, Jiang Cheng's conception of a lot of things. it rearranges the way he has to perceive a whole lot of stuff from before Wei Wuxian died in a very painful way, changes the context of what he thought he understood, and specifically does that years after the fact at the point when he's had a long time to figure out how to come to terms with everything that went wrong.

in the face of tragedy, people like to make sense of it somehow, and Jiang Cheng I think spent a solid amount of time trying to make sense of what went wrong, and when, and where, and why, and came to his own conclusions about all of those things based on the information he had. and part of the way he decided to cope with it is, I think, deciding that his relationship with Wei Wuxian decayed because Wei Wuxian didn't care about him enough to stay; that ultimately Wei Wuxian cared more about the Wen, or himself, or demonic cultivation, than he did about Jiang Cheng (or Jiang Yanli). and he operates with that assumption when Wei Wuxian is dead, and he continues to operate with it when Wei Wuxian comes back.

and then he finds out that whoops! your brother loves you! so much so that he destroyed himself because he thought he had to in order to fix you! and that's, you know, a lot on its own, but it also forces a perspective shift on a tectonic level that rattles Jiang Cheng all the way to his core.

but I think he sort of comes to the conclusion, or at least somewhat the resignation, that it's too late now. things have gone too far and changed too much to mend what's broken, and I don't think he necessarily knows where to start; on the other side of things Wei Wuxian is tired and the reveal rips open some old wounds for him, too (though I think not quite as many; he's not dealing with the same perspective shift). I think he just wants to move on, not in the sense of "doesn't want a relationship anymore" but in the sense of "doesn't want to keep dwelling on the past," and he's in a position where that's easier to do, in some ways, than it is for Jiang Cheng.

I wrote in everyone else is spring bound:

“I told you,” Wei Wuxian said slowly. “It’s in the past, now. You don’t need to-”

“For you it is,” Jiang Cheng said. “For you it’s history, another life, whatever. For me it’s-” Inescapably present. There, inside me, under my heart, sustaining me. “-not.”

and that I think is part of the problem: the disjunction between a Wei Wuxian who wants to leave it behind and Jiang Cheng, who needs to process it.

none of this is to say - I hope obviously! - that there's no way for them to figure it out, or that they shouldn't, or don't want to, etc. etc. just that for all there's an idea sometimes that truth clears the air or whatever and makes it easier for them to approach each other...while that's not not true in this case I think it also in some ways presents its own new challenges.

as far as the other half of the golden core hot potato game...I go back and forth on whether it would help. I don't think Jiang Cheng would ever voluntarily or intentionally tell Wei Wuxian about his choice to sacrifice himself to the Wen; there are a lot of reasons for that but I think one of them is that to him it would feel pathetic and petty, like he was saying "see, I made my sacrifice too, so you should still love me" or something like that. if Wei Wuxian found out somehow...I don't know. I think it would be complicated and messy and painful and very fun for me to read about but I think in the long term it would depend on how Wei Wuxian reacted to that knowledge, and I can see a lot of different ways he might go with it.

wow this got long. well like I said been a while since I got in my yunmeng shuangjie feelings but I've still got em. guess I should go back to trying to finish that fic I was working on. once I can write again.

#conversating #shockingheaven #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #the sad queer cultivators show #aggressively headcanons #opinions meme #lise memes

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asidian · 10 months

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Been re-reading Another Path (SO SO GOOD), and I had a hypothetical question for you! How do you think it would have gone if any of the others had found Astarion entombed? Gale doing some research, Shadowheart doing Sharran stuff, Karlach still under Zariel's control, Dark Urge doing... their thing... Lae'zel wouldn't have been in Faerun pre-canon I don't think. I'm just curious what your thoughts are on how whichever of these interest you would have played out!

Oh, man. Okay, let's see.

Gale showing up to do some research would probably end up with him being desperately outmatched. If he's in Cazador's palace solo, as a wizard, no matter how high his level is, he's probably not going to come out of that alive. Gale is spawn number 6,500 or so, hanging out down in the basement. Sorry, Gale. I imagine he would absolutely try and get Astarion out before then, though. Struggle for half an hour to get the sarcophagus lid open (that Str 15 DC, RIP) in search of some obscure engraving he thinks might be inside, then catch sight of Astarion in the lantern light and go, "Someone's in here?!" Then probably an attempt to abscond with him, but, whoops, Cazador doesn't much like anyone running off with his property. Both of them have a very bad time after, but at least Gale dies relatively quickly; Astarion gets to have a bad time for even longer, as Cazador takes it out on him for "going along with" the rescue attempt, despite the fact that he can't even walk. Whether Gale self-detonates and takes out the entire city depends on how long he stays in the basement. :' )

Shadowheart... mmm, it depends, I think. If she's solo, she's going to run into the same trouble Gale did, but she has the advantage of a) she has heal spells handy and b) she can lift more than a feather pillow without toppling over, so in theory she could grab Astarion and get him out if she wanted to. And I think she would want to, provided she was on her own. Even amnesiac and prickly, she has enough of her about herself that I think she's a decent person at heart, and she could find some way to justify it because that's a hell of a state to leave someone in. Without anything to scare Cazador off using the compulsion to bring Astarion back, though, he'd probably get up and try to walk off, so she might have to subdue him if she wanted to keep him from heading right back. Considering he was weak as a newborn kitten at first, though, it seems reasonable that she could. Now, if she WASN'T solo and rolled up with a bunch of Sharrans... bad end, I think. I can see them going "Hey, this is our palace now," and killing the spawn like the hunters did. Cazador takes off. Maybe they keep Astarion around cause, hey, they always need someone to practice torture techniques on, and if this one's been entombed forever, guess he can't die?? Shadowheart would hate it and maybe sneak him small kindnesses when she could/when she had enough of herself present to manage it.

Karlach under Zariel's control I feel would depend on what she's there for and how much control she has over the situation. If she's been sent to Baldur's Gate on her own, for a reason? Let's say she shows up looking for some information on some devil Zariel is feuding with (maybe in the same engraving Gale would have researched?), and she's by herself. In that case, no way she'd leave him. She'd pretend not to have found what she came for yet (or deliberately not have looked the first time, to buy herself more time) and then figure out how to get this poor bastard out of a sarcophagus without touching him. It's fine; she has endless belts, and probably she can find enough in the surrounding area to cobble together the world's shittiest one-sided stretcher to pull him to safety, though bad luck to Astarion, who's going to have to get dragged over the ground with his everything still broken. She'd run into the same issue as Shadowheart, where as soon as Cazador realized he was gone, he'd use the compulsion to call him back. And Karlach, presumably, is on a timer; she can only be gone for so long before Zariel yanks the leash. So I imagine she'd get a hotel room, do her best to get him in at least not miserable shape, and then show up at Fytz's doorstep like, "Hi I know I haven't seen you in years, but can you take this guy, he's had a rough time." Alternately, when Karlach gets called back, she's right by Astarion and proximity is how the spell works, and whoops, now they're both in Avernus until gamestart. You know, I like that second one better, actually. That's very appealing. >>

I unfortunately haven't done a Durge playthrough yet so I can't answer this one, and I think Lae'zel wouldn't be around, yeah. :|a

This was really fun, though. Thanks for the ask, anon! :>

#bg3

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tsarisfanfiction · 6 months

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Leaving Home

Fandom: Trials of Apollo Rating: Gen Genre: Family/Hurt/Comfort Characters: Jerry, Yan, Jerry's Mum It's a long way from London to New York, and an even longer way when it means leaving behind your family. At least Jerry still had Yan, though. TOApril day 4 - Facing the Unknown, and I continue to write about the youngest canon Apollo kids, apparently. Given how little we know about them, this is of course completely full of headcanons. I have spent entirely too much time thinking about the logistics of a London kid and a Hong Kong kid ending up at Camp, whoops... And am I relishing writing a canonically British kid and not having to overthink whether or not an American kid would say that? Of course not, why would you ever think that? (Yes, yes I am)

Heathrow Airport was huge. Jerry was a born and bred Londoner; crowds didn’t bother him, and while he knew to keep his few valuables – wallet, passport – hidden away beneath layers of clothing where it wasn’t going to get lost or stolen, he had no fear of bodies pressing against him as they rushed past on their way to wherever they were trying to get to.

Jerry wasn’t rushing. He didn’t want to rush, because this was scary.

Not the crowds at the airport. That wasn’t scary. Jerry was used to crowds, grew up with them, knew how to dart through bodies to get where he needed to be.

He gripped his mum’s hand more tightly as he watched his suitcase – it was huge and heavy and also far, far, too small – trundle down the conveyor belt to get eaten by the thick dangling plastic strips and disappear from sight. It started to feel real, now, and Jerry’s stomach was churning because he didn’t want it to be real.

It had been scary when the thing had attacked him, all claws and teeth and dangerous, and he laughed about the old janitor with a limp battering the thing away with a sopping wet mop when he thought about it, because that was funny. A monster wanting to kill him and only not killing him because the janitor was actually a satyr like Mr Tumnus from that book his junior school had forced him to read, except this Mr Tumnus was a good fighter and something about his mop had made the monster explode into dust, was scary.

Even if the satyr thing was sort of cool.

No amount of satyr Mr Tumnus coolness (except Mr Tumnus was not cool, Jerry hadn’t really liked him, but then he hadn’t really liked the book, anyway. Peter with his sword was pretty cool, and some of the creatures were, but Lucy was annoying and Edmund was stupid and he didn’t even remember the name of the other girl) could make up for this, though. One too-big but also too-small suitcase full of all his favourite clothes and cricket bat and mum’s ball and crowds in an airport, and holding his mum’s hand tightly as though he was a baby.

Jerry didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to America, or New York, or whatever the name of the camp he was being sent to was. He wanted to stay in London, watch Middlesex’s next match at Lords because he knew Grandma had promised Mum to buy him tickets, play with his friends, and keep training to be the England captain when he was grown up.

He couldn’t be England’s captain if he wasn’t even in England!

Stupid monsters attacking him. Stupid camp in America he had to go to. Mum wasn’t happy about it, either, but she’d been firm when he’d tried to tell her he wasn’t going. He’d eavesdropped on her Skype calls with some bearded guy that apparently ran the camp, and she’d had a lot to say that didn’t sound happy, but she was still sending him away.

Jerry had tried every trick he could think of to not go, but now all his favourite stuff was going on the plane – all his favourite stuff except his mum – it was all real and big boys don’t cry but Jerry wanted to so badly.

The stupid airport had barely anything to do. It had crowds everywhere but they were all queues, either for the Costa Coffee that Mum had taken him to earlier, letting him have a triple chocolate muffin for breakfast, or for the big metal arches that everyone had to go through one at a time.

Everyone who was going on a plane, anyway.

Those metal arches were where Jerry was going to have to say goodbye.

They were where Mum was guiding him now, looking at her watch and then the departure boards. Jerry didn’t get what the rush was – it was still hours until that stupid plane to New York took off – but she was acting like they were running out of time and he needed time to stop, go backwards, make it so that this didn’t happen at all.

Yan appeared next to him, with just their backback slung over one shoulder carelessly now their own big case had also been munched by the heavy plastic strips. Mum didn’t let Jerry wear his like that, and Jerry knew better, anyway. Yan had lived in London for a year but they still hadn’t worked out that being careless with bags was stupid.

Jerry liked the older kid. They didn’t make fun of him for not being able to spell, or for caring more about cricket than school (who cared about school more than cricket, anyway?). He hadn’t known them very long, because they were in the year above him and the older years didn’t mix with the younger years, but he’d met them a few times in the gym, and on the playing ground at lunch time. They were good with throwing a ball, and good at batting, too, even if they still refused to admit cricket was the best sport in the world.

They’d also been there when he was attacked.

When they were attacked, because Jerry wasn’t the only one being forced on a plane to stupid America-New-York-Camp-Stupid, but Yan didn’t seem to care much.

But Yan’s mum was back in Hong Kong and Jerry didn’t think they’d spoken to her much since they’d arrived in England. They hadn’t said much about why they were in London without their mum, why they called the adults they lived with Mr and Mrs with manners and nothing else, but Jerry thought this wasn’t the first time they’d been told they had to go move elsewhere.

Yan didn’t say stupid things like “you’ll enjoy it” or “you won’t even miss England once you’re there” or any of the other things Mum had tried to say, and not-Mr-Tumnus had tried to say. Yan didn’t say anything at all on the topic, agreeing with him that America was full of heathens that didn’t understand how to play a perfectly good game instead.

At least he was going with Yan, if he had to go with anyone, Jerry supposed. Yan was pretty cool.

The man that met them near the metal gates had a big smile and sharp cheekbones. His ears were kinda pointy, which was weird but also cool. Jerry hadn’t known people could have pointy ears like that. He wore a smart dark blue suit and a colourful red, dark blue and white tie, which looked a lot like the sorts of things the flight attendants wore on the billboards.

“Hey there, kids,” he said, and he had a weird accent, mostly British but with a little bit of a twang when he said hey. “My name’s Geoff and I’ll be looking after you guys until we meet with your escort Stateside.”

Jerry didn’t want to go with him. Going with him meant saying goodbye to Mum and he didn’t know when he would see her again, because she wouldn’t say when he asked! All he knew was that this was because he got attacked, because his Dad had ways to keep him safe if he went to America that apparently couldn’t happen here, in London.

No-one had told him how Yan fit into this, exactly. The older kid was looking at the flight attendant intently, before nodding.

“Yan,” they said. “They/them.”

Jerry prepared to punch the guy if he said anything mean. Almost everyone at school, including the teachers, and insisted on calling Yan he for stupid reasons like “you’re a boy,” when Yan wasn’t, and not-Mr-Tumnus had been one of the few cool adults that didn’t.

The guy didn’t say anything stupid, though. “Neat!” he said instead, “thanks for telling me. You okay with ‘guys’ or do you want me to drop that?” He didn’t even sound sarcastic, and Jerry saw Yan relax a little.

“Guys is fine,” they said, and Jerry saw them grin, a little bit. They liked this guy, he realised, and that meant he couldn’t be mean to him, because Yan didn’t like many people.

“I’m Jerry,” he said, and because Yan had, he added, “he/him.”

They got another grin from Geoff. “He/him for me, too,” he said, a bit late but it was better than pretty much everyone else. “We’ve got to tackle security soon,” he added, and Jerry frowned, because that meant leaving. Geoff put a hand on his shoulder and he wanted to snap at him to mind his space, but there was a look in his eyes that made Jerry falter.

“I-” he started, and to his horror he started crying after all.

Mum grabbed him in a tight hug. “Oh Jerry,” she said, and her voice was shaky. “You’re so brave. Get Chiron to call me when you arrive, and screw the timezones. I expect you to Skype me regularly, okay?”

She’d said all of that before, back before Jerry had had to say goodbye to his bedroom and its weirdly bare walls. His posters were carefully rolled up in his too-big-too-small suitcase, too. Jerry had already promised all of that, but he promised it again, sobbing and trying not to feel like a baby.

Yan and Geoff had walked away a few steps, he discovered when Mum finally pulled back, but not after leaving a disgustingly wet kiss on his forehead. “I love you, Jerry,” she told him firmly. “Never doubt that.”

“Love you too, Mummy,” he admitted, wiping his eyes with his sleeve because he was not a crybaby. Yan’s host family had left them at the entrance as soon as they’d seen him and Mum, and Yan had simply shook their hands and thanked them for letting them live under their roof for the past year. They hadn’t cried.

He didn’t know if they had when they’d left their mum, though. Maybe they had.

Maybe Jerry would be brave enough to ask, one day.

“Ready to go on your adventure?” Geoff asked him, and Jerry wasn’t but Yan was waiting for him and he was done being a crybaby.

“I’m coming,” he said, and gave Mum one last, tight squeeze around the middle, before he straightened his back and walked away.

Yan slipped their hand into his and squeezed it lightly. Boys didn’t hold hands, but Yan wasn’t a boy so that was fine. Jerry squeezed it back, tighter.

He was still terrified, but he could be brave. He wiped his eyes furiously as Yan and Geoff led him towards the metal arch and once he was certain they were dry he turned around.

Mum was crying, but she was smiling, too, and he waved at her, not stopping until Yan led him around a corner and he lost sight of her.

“It’s rough,” Geoff said as he directed them into putting their backpacks and coats into deep plastic trays, and made them take their shoes off. He did the same thing. “I was about your age when I had to move to the States without my Mum, too. Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not brave for doing it, because it’s hard and by the gods we deserve medals for that.”

Yan snorted. “I want two medals, then,” they said.

Geoff grinned. “I’ll see what I can manage,” he promised. “Now, through the box you go, then we’ll go watch the planes come in from the VIP lounge until ours gets here. How does that sound, guys?”

VIP lounge. Jerry supposed he liked the sound of that, at least.

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