#also been pretending I know absolutely nothing about the plot for my siblings' sake which is so fun

[rotisseries]

also I got to the first time switch in ocarina of time yesterday and I know the plot of that game already but nevertheless it's still crazy to actually see play out. like. can you believe. they really stuck that boy in a magical coma for 7 years

[bangtanpromptsfics]

pyxis.

dialogue prompt #9: “Cheer up it's Christmas Eve, sweetheart”

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: christmas au, brother's best friend au, fluff, childhood friends to lovers

word count: 3,412 (oh no)

warnings: reader is a lil sad but nothing angsty tho

summary: christmas was always an eager wait. less for the tree decorations, family dinner and the fuss of toddlers. more for your childhood best friend who you kissed under a mistletoe years back.

a/n: ahhh!!! I'm not completely satisfied with how this turned out to be. the inspiration was from a few christmas themed fics I read here and the movie ‘It's Christmas, Eve’. anyway this was my attempt though it's nowhere near christmas time. one of my personal goals is to celebrate a christmas like the west, the snow, the fuss and the commotion ;-;. Also I lost sense of time and space and this turned out to be 3k ;-;

masterlist

“Cheer up it's christmas eve, sweetheart”, your mother chimes as she pours brown batter into little cupcake moulds.

You simply smile at her, the festive mood not really getting to you because of exhaustion. Uni was tough, and enjoying this Christmas when you know you have tons of essays due in a few days was hammering inside your brain every now and then.

“Is that chocolate?”, you ask, leaning your tired body on the counter where she is at work.

“And orange”, she smiles, turning around to preheat the oven.

“Where's Jin”. Though you hated the routinely flicks against your forehead, the absence of your big brother felt weird.

“He went with Jimin to get the Christmas tree”.

The mention of Jimin brings a smile to your face. His soft features and captivating grin filling your head. If there was one of the few things you enjoyed coming back to your hometown for holidays, it's chocolate cupcakes your mom bakes and Jimin.

His family are friends with yours after all. You, Jin and Jimin attended the same school until college and other priorities in life drift you apart. Though the bond must have rusted a bit, you can't deny the fact that you still have that crush which started somewhere in middle school, on a chritmas eve like this when he kissed your cheeks shyly under the mistletoe. Your friends and family, and even Jimin himself must have seen it nothing more than platonic, but you still find yourself relieving the moment in your head however crazy it may sound.

Standing up straight, you decide to fix your bed hair and complete the skincare routine before the said duo drops.

“Mrs. Y/L/n...”, Jimin softly kicks the back door. He is carrying one end of a huge fir, and your brother on the other end, grunting from the freezing snow outside.

“Oh dear place it right there”, you mother is quick to her feet helping the boys and doing her usual commentary on how well the tree looked.

Jimin looks more handsome than ever, especially with his nose and cheeks dusted in scarlet from the cold. He looks really huggable in his fluffy sweaters and red beanie. Jin is busy commanding around so you choose to sit back, a very typical sibling energy and the size of decoration boxes and the tree itself not really appetizing to your will to find any strength.

“Hey Y/n!”, Jimin stares back at your eyes in a split moment which has your lashes fluttering suddenly. You probably look like you are carrying a disease and right now you become very hyper aware of that.

“You alright? You look tired”, he comments. You feel his eyes carefully studying the black under your eyes and worrying his mind because that's what he is like. He cares about everyone and everything, has a heart so soft it hurts to even think about it.

“Jet lag...”, you say, “I'll be fine”. You shoot a little thumbs up on his way to reassure.

“Why didn't Jin get the tree earlier? It's Christmas in a few hours”, you dodge the focus around you and walk near in an attempt to closely examine the tree for no reason other than feeling Jimin’s eyes a little too long on you.

Your brother gets visibly annoyed seeing you start a very unnecessary talk. So he is completely obliged to shoot back with, “Because you were in charge of Christmas decorations this year but your lazy ass flew down here only yesterday”.

“You know I was busy with Uni!”

“Whatever”, he shrugs, getting back to the box of tree decorations. You feel a little bad seeing yourself not being helpful during a festive season. It felt like you were procrastinating on your responsibilities as always.

“Um...is there any way I can help?”, you ask softly, earning a mischievous grin from Jin and your mom fills in the answer.

“We need more baubles. Also I missed out gifts for Aerum and June, so maybe you can get them”. Now this was already tiring and you were not lying earlier either, the jet lag was still choking you alive. You wonder if the huge pile of stars and glitters beside your foot aren't enough but then maybe it's true because this is the largest fir you ever saw for Christmas in your house. And speaking of the five year old notorious duo, your cousins-- Aerum and June, you have no other option than to step out into the butt numbing cold and get something for the sake of not getting your brains eaten.

While you stand there doing these calculations, Jimin puts a two and two and immediately suggests to tag along with you.

“That'd be great! Thanks sweetie”, your mom chimes, her fine lines of face gathering around her eyes while she does so and you catch her throwing a wink to your side and you pretend you never saw that.

“Thank you Jimin”, you smile in all honesty while he reciprocates the same.

“No problem. I'll get my car. Will you be ready in an hour? I think you just woke up”

“Uh...yeah”, you fake a laugh, “Yes I'll be ready in an hour”

Jimin still lives here in your hometown, attends a community college nearby and his house is just a few steps away from your own. You remember how you had the same analogy in your mind as well. You like living here. You like Jimin’s company. The lake Park and the annual ice skating competition in December and the bookstores and coffee shops at the outskirts of the town. And you can't seem to clearly remember when and where that feeling started to become foreign. Maybe it was a teenage quirk to explore the world that you are now a three hour flight away from all of this. It wasn't a deep regret, but seeing Jimin, it almost felt like it. It felt like you betrayed him. Because he seemed to be keeping his word to this day.

This year, it's a few degrees lower than what it usually is and you find yourself chattering your teeth together as you walk to Jimin’s house.

His footsteps rush to get the door as soon as you ring the doorbell and he greets with the same wide grin as if he hasn't just saw you an hour ago.

“Let's go?”, he asks immediately, getting house keys from his coat pocket and locking the front door before stepping out making you confused.

“There's no one home? Where are your parents?”

“Oh well didn't Mrs. Y/L/n tell you?”, he studies your features and gets his response so he continues “They went to New York this year for Christmas. It's some elder people thing I think...so I'll be spending Christmas this year with your family”

“Really!?”, you chime, and then immediately notice a very childish jump you did with tiny fists and all, feeling a little embarrassed at yourself, “Ah... uh I mean that's great”.

“Yeah”, he giggles, sounding like a twelve year old who is still waiting for his growth spurt, “Get in the car it's freezing in here”.

Since it's been six odd months you've spoken to Jimin, you figured it would would be strange and awkward to be with him, but his demeanor states otherwise. He could effortlessly begin conversations and build momentum with you and by the time you are at a thrift store, he is aware of the little gist of student life and the dramatically exaggerated history research paper still due.

“What are you getting for the twins?”, he asks, seeing you checking out the kids toys section with absolutely no idea and that's exactly what you reply to him.

“How about this puzzle?”, he brings a big jigsaw to your glance and you figure it's a great thing to have their little brains engaged and give yourself time to breathe.

“It's perfect!”, you add, immediately placing it your cart with a few decors you picked up from earlier aisles.

Jimin places an extra pack of Christmas candies in the cart, and you send him a questionable look knowing it's his way of bribing the kids coming this evening. He puts too much effort into people's happiness, something you wish you were capable of as well.

The shopping went smooth. It was therapeutic to get hot chocolate with extra marshmallows afterwards like he insisted followed by that very cliche movie scene where one of them develops a creme moustache and the other notices and dabs it off.

You want this moment to linger a little longer, but your whole family arrives in less than two hours and the decorations were due. If Jin doesn't have you in the next thirty minutes he might as well eat all the cupcakes your mom is baking as revenge.

“I had a great time”, Jimin states as he stops the car in front of your house, stealing the words from your mouth and warmth hugs your cheeks immediately.

“Me too. It's been long since we spent time with each other”

You hear a lone sigh with white fogs coming out of his plump lips while he does so, as if he were suddenly sad when you mentioned that.

“Are you okay?”

His grips tightens around the steering, “I've missed you”, he says, eyes meeting slowly. And as if he was suddenly pulled back to earth he conjures another sentence to not sound so vulnerable.

“I uh... It's just--”

“I've missed you too”

Even with the gear box painstakingly blocking the way, you throw your upper half towards his body anyways and you find him hugging you back. His hugs still feel the same from years back; safe and warm and filled with love.

If it wasn't for the constant reminder that your brother is probably plotting a murder against you, you would've stayed much longer in his embrace. Maybe the hug was a big straightforward for a bond still gradually blooming, but it didn't feel weird at all and when you pull back he is smiling down at you.

“I thought you two lovebirds flew off”, a very annoyed Jin states from above you. He is balancing himself on a chair to attach the mistletoe to the ceiling.

“Sorry hyung”, Jimin says. And somehow now you are getting super aware of the way your family is low key shipping you both. Not that it's an irritating thing of course though you seem to act like it. But you have no idea what's going on with Jimin, what if he said he missed you as your childhood friend? It's a lot difficult to segregate his priority of giving affection. He seems to be giving justice in terms of care for every living being he knows.

“The circus is on its way so I hope you both hurry with putting up everything together”, the voice above states, now lowering himself to ground after putting up the twig.

Three of you giggle at the mention of your family as a circus. Well in a way it definitely was. You have a bunch if uncles who crack awful jokes, a trait Jin himself as picked up from a tender age of ten. Then their wives and kids who share certainly the same braincells in comprehending things. You bet they'll ask you again about your major and your dating history once they walk in through that door amidst clearly stating everytime that you are a history major and yes still very single.

In the hallway there is a half decorated tree. A thread of fairly lights wrapped around the green and very few baubles hanging here and there.

“I'll put up the star and join you”, Jimin says, digging out a golden star from the carton. Though now he doesn't know why it was a good idea for him to announce that when both of you were almost the same height. He is just a few centimeters taller than you and the top of the fir is still very much way above your heads.

So with a chuckle you both figure Jin has to do it.

“This is your final year right?”, Jimin asks stepping closer to you. He seemed nervous about something. Or was it anxious?

“Yeah...you?”

“Yeah...”, his sweet tone was drawn almost like a whisper and you sense you should ask him further about what's wrong. But before you had to deal with a starter he continues,

“Are you planning to work in Chicago as well?”

“Sweetheart help me clean up the kitchen please”, your hear your mom's voice overpowering through the house. Which is good. Because you don't know what you are supposed to answer. It was as if he was almost hopeful that you'll choose your hometown all over again. But you aren't sure. So you take the opportunity to step away from the situation excusing yourself.

And while you are clearing the blobs of batter stuck on the counter, your mind is a haywire. What are you going to do? Though you know your whole family wants you to stay, it's still a foggy place to be in. Four years apart in another city as a college student has not provided much, except caffeine addiction and sleepless nights. Things were not even as fun as everyone told you.

A few steps away Jimin silently prays that you stay, because he had truly missed you. Even though you have outgrown from the eighteen year old shell as he had known, he finds himself actively choosing to be with you. Even when other things in life occupies his mind, there's an element of it which goes back to you.

“They are here!”. You groan silently, while your parents are throwing their hands in air, giggles and chatter fills in as your uncles and aunts and the taunting toddlers welcome themselves in.

“Y/n! You have grown so much!”, the older aunt comments, and you supply a manufactured smile to tag along. Other comments follow by soon, about how tired you are, gasps about not having a partner and future plans, all of which are not completely answerable at the moment but you manage to get through them all and finally excusing yourself back to the garage convincing there are more decor supplies in there.

Families are nice. They make festivals brighter and lives less lonely. But yours was just hard sometimes. Not that you completely loathed the people now fueling themselves off the cup cakes your mom bakes, you were just merely lost, still yet to come up with an answer to what your stance is after graduation.

“Hey...”. Jimin has joined you now which you notice feeling a warmth against your shoulder when he sits, with an extra scraf knowing the garage is still comparatively chilly than the house, “you okay?”.

“Yeah...I was just...thinking”

“Is this about earlier? I'm sorry if I made you anxious”, he quickly adds.

“No!...I mean yeah but, it's high time I find a ground with this. What are your plans?”

“I was thinking about teaching at Jefferson High”, he shifts rather uncomfortably. He is talking of the school in your town, your school, where you have lots of memories with Jimin, “You know...like we said during Junior year in high school?”

“I'm sorry Jimin”, you feel the guilt inside you growing, “I never kept my promises”.

“Hey...that's okay! Everyone changes. I just want you to be happy. I...I hope you are happy Y/n”, he reassures, taking your hand from your side and squeezing it between his soft palms.

“I don't know about that either...”

As much as you hated showcasing vulnerability to another person, you know Jimin is an exception. You had cried to him about everything during school days and he had never invalidated a single thing, even when you were visibly dramatic over a downpour during a family picnic when you were five.

Jimin is frozen on his seat as if he can't find the words. He was never good with words so instead he hugs you, a little longer than the last time till he is sure you have calmed down. Grateful for not ending up crying, you smile up at him and remind yourselves to get back inside to avoid suspicion, especially from the kids who take humiliating people as an important milestone to achieve.

When you enter back inside and get immediately surrounded by a million questions and chores thrown at you, you find your answer. Maybe your heart belongs back to everything your younger self had blabbered about. Not to mention, this fairly good reunion with your crush feels nice, though, he might still see it as platonic. Maybe he makes things less daunting.

By the way Jimin was owning everyone's heart in the house, it felt like he was family. Well in a way he is. But to put more clarity, he bought things together and his actions bought so much peace and love within everyone. Even the notorious twins listen carefully to him and help the uncles and aunts in the kitchen.

He is again by your side, two cupcakes rests on his palms and you take it with a silent ‘thanks’.

Seeing no signs of him beginning a talk now, you think of coming up with something. Maybe a memoir from today? Or about how absolutely handsome he looks right now? Wait.

“They are under the kissing twig!”, Aerum screams like the house caught in fire, her sibling joining by the side to provoke the habit even more.

“It's called a mistletoe Aerum”, your aunt corrects before pasting a smug across her lips.

Nothing changed. They are the same people. Hyping you and Jimin to kiss just like when you were thirteen. If the factor of time is removed, this is the exact night. Both of you cemented to the flooring as if you forgot to exist.

Both of your necks snap together to the mistletoe Jin had attached to the ceiling earlier. And when you lower your gaze back, face gawks at each other eye to eye. It's the same. He has that blush, the shyness from years ago. It's going to be platonic. Yet again. And this moment will only ever be romantic and flowery in your head.

June was the first to squeak, and Aerum shuts her eyes the moment Jimin is leaning his mouth towards your lips. It was difficult to relax under the stares of many, but when he ghosts his mouth over your again and leans in for a second kiss, you are fixated on him. Hands holding each other, the plump of his lips so soft it felt like you were biting into a fluff of cloud.

Maybe he'll have an explanation to your family for this. Not like anyone in the audience was disappointed. Your mother was almost in tears? And Jin looked hardly surprised with any of this. As if it was all swell according to his plans.

“You both are so cute”, one of the aunts awes and your mother is quick by her side, completely agreeing to it.

“Jimin...”, you return your gaze to the equally flustered man who just kissed you and he sounded almost breathless,

“I'm sorry if this was wrong it ju--”

“I like you”, you immediately snap in and his face is a void for an instant. Fully processing the words, his eyes disappear when he grins, “I like you too...a lot”.

“Are you two dating?”, the twins haven't dropped the case yet, running to your feet to help their curious brains.

“Yes...”, Jimin responds, looking up at you for a reassurance, which you quickly supply with a nod, “Yes we are dating”.

When the kids are satisfied they go away snickering to themselves.

“I decided to stay”, you say.

“Really!?”, his disbelief was comical, yet wholesome considering how much he wished for this, “I'm...I'm so happy!”.

Giggling at him, this time you lean forward and peck the corner of his lips.

“You lovebirds better get a room”, Jin announces and thankfully not loud enough to catch everyone else's attention.

Usually Jin expects a punch to his arms from his sister, but he sees how grateful you are for his mistletoe decor. He leaves the couple, satisfied that there won't be any more ranting about how much Jimin likes you.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

Original Content of ©bangtanpromptsfics

[oswald-privileges]

ALL RIGHT BUT YOU ASKED FOR IT

Power of Three as a series is just. full of weaknesses, most of which come down to poor continuity and structure. I'm not gonna try and fix ALL of those, bc that'd be laborious as hell, but I will pick out things that I feel are the most egregious as case studies.

What Po3 does have, tho, is an absolutely shining strength in the concept of its three main characters. After twelve books of Blandly Heroic Protagonist Syndrome, Jayfeather is an absolute godsend. He's angry! He's rude! He's unhappy! He's not nice. I Love Him And He's My Son. Lionblaze has his invincible pride (hah) and emergent bloodlust, and Hollyleaf has her moral absolutism and certainty. These are good starting points for characters. Sadly, the lack of continuity undermines what could have been three really good character arcs.

So! I present to you:

HOW TO MAKE "WARRIORS: THE POWER OF THREE" NOT COMPLETELY SUCK ACCORDING TO MY PERSONAL TASTE; A NON-EXHAUSTIVE, NON-CONSECUTIVE LIST BY ME

ONE

- Have there be a persistant, overarching series threat. Sol is a character with amazing villain potential who does literally nothing except hang around, and do exactly 2 Bad Things completely off-screen. This Is Not Good.

- Instead, have him be present from the second book onwards- initially introduced as a friendly but enigmatic outsider who is slowly revealed across the series to be a complete black hole of a personality, a social parasite quietly rearranging whatever community he's a part of to just-so-happen to benefit him as much as humanly possible. His "preach individualism not starclan" methods are not so much values as one strategy out of many. (to those who know me- yes i have a type. no i will not apologise.)

- Maybe his ultimate goal is to dissolve and centralise the clans or something so that he can live out his life as a political puppetmaster in all the cat-luxury he likes. idk it's hard to imagine overall stakes for this rewrite BECAUSE THE ORIGINAL DOESN'T HAVE ANY

TWO

- For gods sake you don't have a series based on the premise of "the main characters develop super powers" and then only have the second power confirmed by the end of the fourth book. I understand the first book mostly focusing on Jayfeather- his powers are obvious from the start, he's got the strongest personality of the three, he gets access to most of the prophecy plot stuff because of them. But you NEED to have the other two show an interest in something concrete happening to them beyond that, and you need to at least hint towards the other two having something unique to them even if nobody clocks it yet.

- Have Jayfeather tell his siblings about the prophecy by the end of book two at the latest. The amount of time he spends noodling around not sharing it with them is inexcusable. It's not that it's out of character for him to hang onto a secret for a bit, it's just that there's no point and it slows everything down. It would be equally in character for him to go to his siblings and be like "look, i'm SPECIAL. well you as well but ALSO ME". Boy starts off as desperate for recognition, what can I say

THREE

- Have Jayfeather discover that StarClan don't withhold signs or information on purpose for the sake of "building courage and faith" or whatever nonsense. Seeing and communicating the future is metaphysically very difficult, so interpreting signs and messages is a genuine skill, or even an art. The cats of StarClan, however, really are just ghosts, much more similar to living cats than the currently living believe. This is the impotus for Jayfeather's discarding of his reverence for StarClan, which remains consistent throughout the series.

- Have Hollyleaf and Jayfeather both still change their cat careers in the first book, but put place more attention on the fact that they basically switched jobs. Have a scene where they end up yelling at each other, because can't the other see how lucky they have it? The tension breaks when they realise they've both lost something important to them- Jayfeather his chance to prove he's as capable as a sighted cat, and Hollyleaf her path to helping her clan in the way she thinks is best. They commiserate together, and reluctantly promise to do the best they can with their lots, so they don't waste the path the other wishes they'd taken. This closeness is eroded over the series as they disagree more and more on the subject of StarClan and its role in their moral choices and obligations.

FOUR

- Speaking of Hollyleaf! I nearly threw my phone across the room when the first Omen of the Stars book claimed that Hollyleaf "worked so hard to discover her power to help her clan". Where, Ms Erins??? I would have LOVED to have seen that!! Hollyleaf expresses absolutely no concern over the details of what power she has/will develop, and only has a couple of scenes even touching on her ambitions to help her clan. She has some vague ideas about becoming leader and like one scene where she gets to do some leadery things, but that never gets followed up on. What does happen is that the whole "warrior code" thing becomes more and more a part of her personality (for no clear reason) until she snaps.

- Hollyleaf going off the deep end is something I wanted so badly to get into and be moved by, because I could see where it comes from! Her moral certainty is fascinating, especially since it's based in something as abstract as the warrior code- which, when you think about it, isn't really... anything. There's no concrete set of rules that make it up, no traditional wording or cat philosophers, not even any fables. It's a handful of agreed-upon, common sense rules- don't cross boundaries, don't take prey that isn't yours, respect your ancestors, and don't murder. That's it!

- So, combining the above points, I think Hollyleaf not being one of the Three should stay, but both the audience and the characters are given good reason to believe she is. By around the third volume, make it so that Hollyleaf has found that her power is to get cats to "Do The Right Thing"- i.e. what she wants them to do. She sneaks off often to see Sol, who teachs her how to use this power. Her siblings are concerned about this new power, having already gotten a glimpse at what Sol can do, but she's confident that she can only use this power for good. Volume-specific plot happens, Sol manipulates her into causing him to win, she is shocked and horrified, and vows to stick ridgedly to what she knows is right i.e. The Warrior Code

- However, the more fervently she tries to stick to this abstract idea, the less it gives her results, the more her power seems to be failing. Believing that StarClan is taking her power away from her, she becomes caught up in a faith-guilt spiral that puts her in the position to snap at the end of the series. By that point it's clear to her siblings that Hollyleaf has no power- she was just very, very good at persuading people to do what she wanted.

FIVE

- Lionblaze is a girl now because I Said So. This Cat Is Trans And There's Nothing You Can Do About It.

- Her relationship with Heathertail stays the same- childhood sweethearts who are torn apart as they begin to understand the nature of the societal divides that exist between them.

- This can be used to contextualise the whole "half clan/outsider blood" thing as a cultural contradiction. In reality, inter- and outer- clan relationships aren't at all rare. They can't be, otherwise the whole society would be inbred out of existence in like five generations. But if at least one society of humans can spend a good 200 years pretending Sex Is Bad And Sinful Actually then cats can have persistant cat-racism in the face of all logic. Heathertail clocks this contradiction, Lionblaze doesn't.

- Her relationship-to-power arc doesn't need changing all that much either, other than starting much sooner and being more consistent. At first, she's completely overjoyed by her power, since unlike her siblings, it lines up so well with her ambition- become the finest warrior any of the clans have to offer. As the berserker rage aspect becomes more prevelent, she becomes more and more disturbed by the fact that she isn't disturbed by what she can do, and that she doesn't want the escalation of her power to stop.

- Tigerstar still does his thing, but Brambleclaw knows about it. He recognises the signs from when his father used to visit him, and tries to train Lionblaze in his own way. She ends up caught between wanting to be a good warrior, and testing the limits of her power.

SIX

- Jayfeather can stay basically the same because he's my perfect little angy boy and nothing needs to change. His arcs can be strengthened by having a more robust relationship with Yellowfang where they try to out-bitch each other, and coming to terms with his internalised ablism. Maybe he has a chat with Mothwing about faith a couple of times. Him furiously lashing out at being offered help transitions into an acceptence and understanding of his abilities more naturally. He never stops being A Grumpy Old Man.

- All fucking past-lives unexplained time travel goes in the BIN. Doesn't fucking happen. You can have that lore dump sprinkled across the books, or come from going deep into the tunnels and having a surreal meeting. Make it properly eldritch-level scary, shake Jayfeather's confidence in the idea of them being just a bunch of ghosts.

SEVEN

- Have the way Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight present very clearly as parents to the Three be explicitly, textually unusual. One of the things I liked so much about the first series was an almost total lack of emphasis on who was mated with who, and who was related or not. It felt very real to how feral cat colonies form, where raising kittens is a communal job. This gets completely dropped the moment series 2 starts and now the cats have monogamy.

- This emphasis on the family unit and fostering close relationships between parents and kittens is deliberate on the part of both Leafpool and Squirrelflight. Their aim is to cover for Leafpool so she doesn't lose her role as medicine cat- something she already gave up Crowfeather for before she was pregnant.

- In that little bit of backstory, have a robust reason for both Leafpool and Squirrelflight to leave the camp while Leafpool is pregnant and giving birth, possibly one that ties into the present day story in some minor way. I don't know how, it would just make that element of the story a lot more ground than "we left, the kits were born, then we came back and everyone was cool with it"

- When it comes to the "I am Not your mother" reveal, Jayfeather and Lionblaze are confused and hurt that they were lied to, but come to the reasonable conclusion that well, since they were raised mostly by Squirrelflight, saw Leafpool often, and are loved by both, they don't hate her. Lionblaze has something of a crisis over being half-clan, possibly initiating an attempted reunion with Heathertail. Jayfeather is more concerned with how other cats will think it makes him lesser, something he's still sensitive too.

- Hollyleaf, meanwhile, completely fucking snaps at the way her mother Violated Part Of The Code. It's a completely irrational reaction, but expected because she's been growing more and more reliant on The Code for the whole series, and less and less stable in her attempts to aid her clan and train to be its new leader.

- Squirrelflight is the one to murder Ashfur. This is easy to work out while reading- she's literally the only one of the four with a motive who isn't a perspective character. The mystery is less around finding out who did it, and more about why she did it (it's very ambiguous as to whether it was an accident or not). The main tension comes from who finds out when.

- Lionblaze is shocked, awed by how far she'd go to protect the three of them, and reassures her she did the right thing (as a way to salve her own uncertainty over her own longing for violence). Jayfeather makes it all about himself because he's Jayfeather- upset that he didn't know immediately, instead of, you know, figuring it out in a few hours because he can basically read minds. They try their best to hide it from Hollyleaf, who is already rattling around the final volume as a full-on antagonist, but are unsuccessful. This almost costs them something incredibly important- possibly Squirrelflight's life.

EIGHT

- the whole plot with the Tribe Of Rushing Water is a MASSIVE can of worms that could be removed from the series without issue. As it is:

- Characterize the Tribe as uncertain of how to fight other cats, because yes, they haven't had to do this before. DON'T characterise them as pathetic, doing whatever their leader says without thinking, and with ancestors who have Given Up

- Have some of the Tribe be really good at the violence. Worryingly good. Have others be sickened by what they're being asked to do.

- Have some of the clan cats reflect on what they've done. Hollyleaf would be all for introducing this society to jesus The Code, but even she might be horrified at being thanked by a tribe cat who can't wait to get out there and win themselves glory, only to be killed a few hours later

- The Tribe begin a new tradition of marking the walls in the mud they use as camoflage in order to commemorate their battles, and memorialise the fallen. One of the characters reflects on the fact that in a generation or two, the Tribe will feel like it's always been this way. How many of their own traditions- those that feel almost like natural law- started out the same way?

- Have Sol as the leader of the invaders, or maybe having insinuated himself into the tribe as a "mediator" and doing his charismatic cult leader thing.

NINE

- Cinderheart isn't a reincarnation of Cinderpelt. She's just named after her bc Cinderpelt saved her mother from a badger. this is because I think the reincanation thing is stupid and I can't think of a way to make it good.

TEN

- No more using tails as hand gestures like covering people's mouths. Never. None of it. It's expunged from existence.

Disclaimer: I haven't read Omen of the Stars yet, so I can't account for anything that might happen in that series that's grounded in Po3. I'm like... two thirds of the way through the first volume. I'm Not Impressed.

[spc4eva]

Mandokar: Chapter 1

Summary: The Mandalorians owe a debt. This is to be repaid by taking an Anaxian princess in as a Foundling in the wake of the planet’s destruction. How will she fare being raised Mandalorian?

Word Count: 13,188

Author Notes: OMG I have been planning this for so long, so thank you for any who are willing to ride it out with me and wait for updates because I'm going to be a PITA on editing and making certain that absolutely beautiful chapters come out. I'm going to try and update weekly, but we'll see if I can get the cogs turning and maybe post 2. Doubt it, because I really want the time to edit and putz around with dialogue. 

My intentions for this fic are simple - I want a Mandalorian raised OC of my own self-serving elven race that I've made up. HATE ME. DO IT.

Originally, I wanted this to be a fem!OCxPaz, but after much deliberation, decided against it in favor of fem!OC & BigBrother!Paz, because their sibling relationship has given me so much damn life and daydreams. For those hoping this will be smut with a plot, I'M SORRY, but it's not.While there are definitely adult themes much... much.... MUCH later when Sena becomes an adult, that's a long way off and so is any smut since that's not the intention of this fic.

Full intention is to delve, dive, and describe day to day life of the Tribe, growing up as a Mandalorian, and the challenges our little bird will face along the way. This will include Mandalorian slice of life, culture, strife, and angst - but also tons of rewarding drabble and accomplishments.

Armorer will be around and of a similar age to Paz. Whereas, Din will be the same age as Sena. Whether or not I ship them, I haven't decided, because I intend for them to be rivals and the intention isn't to make this a full on romance fic (though I'll not lie and way down the road it might turn into that).We all want a BAMF Mandalorian OC, so here I am gonna gush all over the culture and vomit up tons of content for you to swallow. If ya want it.

Crossposted on AO3

"Your grace."

The morning was chill, much more so than typical for the mid season. Lifting her palm toward the sky, she felt a few drops of dew splatter to her palm, pressing cool kisses to her skin. Cocking her head, her eyes slid back from the balcony toward the servant entreating her. She broke a gentle smile. Today would be a fine day. Faylen wasn't certain why, but she had a good feeling. Birds trilled in the thicket of trees that surrounded the grounds in a verdant embrace, sheltering the beauty of the architecture which had long since been replaced elsewhere in the galaxy. Not here. Genmaris was one of a kind, the beauty of the Anaxian culture still in full swoon. Protected, hidden, secret. 

"Yes, Merith?" the girl, only just 13 years old, turned gracefully, the pale ivory skirt of the night shift skimming her calves. 

"Your father sends word that we shall be receiving guests today. He requests that you dress accordingly," Merith bowed her hair, dark hairs scattering around her cheeks as she bowed respectively. Like the princess, she had tanned skin and long pointed ears, however she did not share the same golden eyes nor the speckled teardrop marks of the goddess that pressed against the girl's shoulders and latticed down beneath her bodice, twinkling like amber teardrops, visible beneath the thin material of her chemise. Kissed by the goddess - a great honor and blessing. 

"Do you know who these guests might be? It's very rare that we receive outsiders," Faylen trotted forward, drawing near the bath as Merith turned on the water. The servant's fingers skimmed the heat, making certain it was not too scalding for the girl's skin as she threw her chemise off and climbed into the copper tub. Drawing her knees up to her chest, more markins slid down against her tummy and against the outside of her legs. On the tops of her feet, the golden teardrops were double lined in the shape of crescent moons toward her toes. So many kisses, so purposefully placed. Few laid eyes on all the girl's markings and aside from her parents, these people had only been servants and a couple of doctors. Rumors floated through the air on wings. Despite not seeing them, many knew of her markings throughout the lands. Most Anaxians were graced with a handful at most, if they were lucky, but the princess had one hundred and twenty two. Skimming her spine, forming another half-moon at the base of her neck, cradling her chest, and trailing down her throat in a purposeful line. The common folk speculated what this meant, foretelling that the princess had a great destiny ahead of her.

"Well..." Merith drawled, uncertain on whether or not to betray the information she'd heard for the sake of it not being true. Yet, when the honey hued irises turned up toward her, she melted like a candle hearted by a raging flame. "I hear they're Mandalorian." Bending down, she began to scrub the girl's warm toned skin with a sponge, careful not to work her markings too hard. 

Faylen perked up, her long ears twitching slightly before Merith poured water over her head, plastering her inky hair to her adorable face. The servant chuckled slightly as the girl moved her mop of hair out of her face, peering out like a swamp monster. "Mandalorian?" she repeated curiously. "As in the best warriors in the galaxy?"

"None other, your grace," Merith smiled, beginning to lather the girl's thick hair. Even on this remote planet, the legend of the Mandalorians had reached them. The princess had heard about their prowess, just as anyone else. The corners of the servant's lips remained pinned up as the teenager drew in a doleful breath, fluffed her cheeks out.

"Why? What do we have here that they could want?" Faylen asked. 

"I cannot begin to fathom, your grace," Merith admitted calmly, pouring water over her head again, causing the girl to sputter. "Only that there are two of them and your father is entertaining them."

Sinking lower into the water, the child's hair floated on the surface like dark tentacles. She blew bubbles, smelling the minerals and floral soap, sniffling slightly at the pungency. Her father had told her a few stories about Mandalorians and she knew that they were fearless warriors who wore armor of beskar - the strongest iron in the galaxy. T-visor helmets, obscured faces, an ensemble of weapons and gadgets, skill in hand to hand combat, prowess that could rival Jedi. A shiver went down her spine, despite the warmth of the water, wondering what it would be like to meet one. Would they be intimidating? Did they remove their helmets? Would they be gruff or courteous? 

"Let's not keep them waiting all day. You wouldn't wish to offend or upset the Mandalorians would you?" Merith scolded as Faylen skulked in her own head, continuing to blow bubbles. Jolting upward, her eyes went big like saucers, wondering if she was being rude with how long she was taking. "C'mon now, your grace." Offering a towel, the girl scampered out of the bath and let Merith swaddle her before fussing with her hair. "So much of it, Maker, so much hair."

Faylen chose a proper dress for guests, spending longer than she ought to. Did Mandalorians even like dresses? Or did they only like armor? Maybe she should wear pants to prove she wasn't just a prissy little princess. Her father had taught her how to shoot a blaster, how to use a dagger, and a little hand to hand combat. Papa had said that people might wish to hurt a princess, so it was important that she could defend herself should the need ever arise. Faylen was still soft though and didn't spend half as much time as she ought to in practicing. Instead, she'd play in the forest, dirty her expensive gowns, and hide in hidden alcoves and glades. Princess Faylen was notorious for eluding guards and making her papa sick with worry. Wasn't her fault that Anaxes had such interesting fauna that she just had to follow. There wasn't even anything outside the palace to worry about, Faylen had long since realized the vipers were amongst the court.

Merith chastised her for taking so long. "We should have been done by now, your grace-" she continued on her tirade of banter, the child drowning her out as the female brushed through her long tangles of inky hair. Not listening, the girl stared in the mirror at the shimmersilk gown of pale blue. The goddess marks on her throat and collar were visible, but the others were hidden beneath the luxurious material. Merith twirled pieces out of her face, leaving the rest loose, keenly aware that Faylen would rip apart any hairstyle too ornate. Lifting a platinum circlet, she placed it on the girl's brow before letting out a low sigh. "Try not to get this one dirty. That'll be the fourth shimmersilk gown you've destroyed this moon."

"I don't try to destroy them," Faylen groused, rolling her eyes at the servant in the mirror. "Last time was definitely not my fault, I swear. Rathas was chasing me through the gardens-" she puffed out her cheeks like a frog. Rathas was a sore topic for her, a blight on her existence, and a hellion pretending to be her friend. Faylen wanted nothing to do with him.

"Don't do that, it's not a very lady-like expression," Merith huffed, shaking her head at the hopeless princess. "And Rathas is likely to be your betrothed one day. You'd do well not to scuttle away from that boy and make friends with him."

Faylen feigned a retching noise, repulsed by the very idea of the boy even glancing in her direction. "Gross! He's so gross! Papa would never make me marry him," she retorted, voice hitching into a plaintive and very high, tinny tone. "He tried to kiss me you know. I punched him in the nose. He was boasting that he fought one of the sabre boars in the forest, but it was really me."

Merith groaned. "Oh my Goddess. That was why-" she rubbed her face, pulling down on her lower lids as she tried to wonder how the king could have such an unruly daughter. His majesty was so well mannered, patient, and benevolent. His daughter could be polite and courteous when necessary, but a little too curious and explorative for her own good. Having never had a proper scolding in her life, she rarely realized that her behavior was inappropriate. The princess wasn't a brat, but there was certainly some work that could be desired for the child's disposition. "You're ready now, your grace. Let's go to the gardens to meet the guests."

Standing up, Faylen took Merith's arm, her heart thumping excitedly in her small chest. Mandalorians. What did their armor look like? What color would it be? Maybe they'd let her touch it, if that was allowed. Leaving behind the wispy elegance of her chambers, she stepped out into the hallway. Genmaris' Castle was constructed of polished wood and elas stone - a pale white marble streaked with veins of gold. The wood panels were tangled with vines, full leaves leaning eagerly toward the passerbyers. Flora was very much a part of their everyday life. It was almost everywhere around the castle, the grounds; in the halls, on the balconies, even in the washrooms; acting as the lifeblood and veins to all of Anaxian life. Drawing a deep breath, Merith released her as she skirted down the wide staircase leading to the fronds of blue grass that hemmed the entrance to the topiary section of the garden. 

Sunlight slanted fingers through the trees above them, casting little peeps of warmth. King Ardryll stood in simple regal, a fine emerald doublet chased in golden embroidery, a set of tan trousers, and dark leather boots. Aside from the golden circlet on his tanned brow, he might've been easily mistaken for another castle goer. Entreating a pair of armor clad figures, his topaz eyes slid over toward his daughter as she stumbled through the grass and collided into his side with big, excited eyes. Chuckling lightly, he brushed a stray piece of hair behind a long ear. Despite how wild the girl could be, he would not trade her exuberance or grins for anything.

There were two Mandalorians, one in a full suit of dark, sherwood green armor. He was tall, lean, and had an impressive posture that reminded her of the knights around the castle. Her eyes went to the vambraces he wore, including the right one which had a ton of tiny buttons on it. Beside him was another Mandalorian, whose helmet was similar, but two pieces he wore were actually made of beskar. He was tall too, almost the same height as the green warrior, though his chestplate was made of durasteel. 

"Ah, here she is," Ardryll hummed, drawing his daughter in, holding her shoulder, giving her a meaningful look. Almost as if to say ‘please try not to be too silly’. She was a princess after all, even if she forgot herself when she was too excited.

"Welcome to Genmaris Castle. It is a pleasure to have you here," remembering her manners, she grabbed her skirts and curtsied prettily, before stealing one look up at her papa. He gave an approving nod, before her eyes turned back toward the Mandalorians. She had so many questions, but sucked on her teeth instead of asking.

"This is my daughter, Faylen," Ardryll introduced. 

The green Mandalorian stepped forward, kneeling down to that he was of a more similar height to her. She was astonished by how close he got, his dark visor setting into her eyes; dark and shaded so much she could not even see his eyes even this proximity. "I've heard a lot about you, Princess Faylen. Your father and I are old friends. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Hux Vizsla," he introduced, taking her hand in his glove and giving her a warm pat. "Now... my son, Paz, has never been to a proper castle before. Would you mind showing him the grounds?" 

Her head tilted, scattering her long waves of hair as she realized that he was referring to the other Mandalorian. Given the warrior's height, she had assumed he was an adult; maybe he was, she couldn’t tell how old either of them were. Big eyes slid over to him and she swallowed hard. "Of course! It would be my honor, Mr. Vizsla," clearing her throat, trying not to twist her hands anxiously as Hux returned her hand she glanced up toward the visor of the other Mandalorian. "Sir, please come with me-" she puffed out her chest, offering her arm to this... Paz. 

"I'm not-" his visor turned toward Hux and she might've believed that he was slightly anxious from the cracking of his voice. The green warrior stood up and gave an affirming nod, Faylen still holding her arm out, trying not to look dejected as she thought he was going to ignore her. Finally, he took it, and Faylen preened slightly. "You don't have to call me sir," he grumbled.

"Papa, we'll be around the gardens first," Faylen proclaimed, feeling the leather of the Mandalorian's glove through the thin material of her gown. It was sort of rough, but sent tiny shocks of electricity lancing up her skin as being so close to a feared warrior. Guiding him away from the pair of adults, she stole a few sideways glances before gliding past the bantha shaped bush. "As you can see the shrubs are very... shrub-like-" she announced, using her princess voice which was rather courteous and dry, trying to seem as dignified and royal-like as possible. He was utterly silent, which made her a bit nervous. "Is that a vibro-blade?" He was quite a bit taller than her, his belt about chest level for her, meaning it was easier to glance down than up, assessing the tiny arsenal on his utility belt.

Pausing, the suit of armor finally glanced down at his belt which she was eying. "Yes," he confirmed, unsheathing it so that she could stare at the way the sunlight caught the reflection. Brushed grey steel, verdant with the fingers of sunlight chasing down, reflecting the garden greenery.  "Why does a princess know what a vibro-blade looks like?"

"Cuz-" she sucked in air and bent down, pulling her own out of her boot. "I carry one. This is Pig-Sticker. It's not as nice as yours," she held it up, scrunching her nose as she glanced between the differences. The Mandalorian's knife was twice the size as hers. Still, she had a knife and knew what they looked like, so she had a certain sort of pride about her as she brandished the little toothpick. 

"Pig-Sticker?" 

"Well, it's kinda small. Probably wouldn't even stick a pig, if I'm completely honest," she contemplated out loud, turning the knife over in her hand, glancing back over at his. "I just thought it was a funny name. People name blades, don't they?"

The Mandalorian rumbled with a laugh, the soft noise crackling through the vocoder. "They do.  Sometimes. "

"So what's the name of yours then?" 

"I didn't name mine," Paz betrayed. 

"What about..." she cocked her head, narrowing her eyes as she leered at the blade. "Now that ought to be a good Pig-Sticker, but mine's already named that. So maybe Bantha-Sticker?"

The Mandalorian laughed again, a little louder this time. Faylen warmed at the noise, excited that she'd made the mysterious warrior chuckle. He didn't seem as scary or intimidating as the legends said. Rather, she thought he was sort of nice - nicer than most people around the castle who just feigned smiles down at her and pretended to be kind. She’d heard some of the ladies in waiting complaining about her before, despite having been silkily sweet to her during tea time. Faylen didn’t like when people were double-faced like that, but being honest wasn’t a very common quality round these parts. 

"Bantha-Sticker," he considered carefully, spinning the blade dexterously between his fingers. "Who have you been sticking with that blade, your grace?"

"Oh," she tucked it behind her back as if she shouldn't have revealed she had it. Kicking at the grass, slightly doleful, she rolled her shoulders. The only reason she'd taken it out was because she wanted to ask a bunch of questions and it was the easiest way to bridge the gap. "Trees sometimes. I've never actually had to stab anyone... Yet."

"I hope you shouldn't ever have to. Can you show me what you might do if you needed to?"

She blinked a few times, slightly taken aback that he wanted to see. Giving an overly exuberant nod, hair flying around her, she pulled the dagger back out. "I'm in a dress, so I might not be as good," she told him quickly, sweeping her foot back and bracing her wrist before turning the hilt in her palm. "But I'd stick them like this. Papa says that since I'm small, supporting my knife hand is important."

The Mandalorian circled in front of her. "Your father is a smart man."

"I know that," Faylen scowled, but quickly replaced the expression with delight. "How do you hold your knife?"

He humored her, dropping into a similar stance, though it suited him much better in armor than in a shimmersilk gown. Using a reverse grip, he also braced his arm, gripping his vambrace as he displayed his form. The princess turned her blade to try and mimic him. Hoping that maybe she could possess even one ounce of the warrior’s impressive form or the way in which it looked so natural, like wind blowing through the leaves in the trees.  "Oh careful there-" he reached out before she could cut herself, steadying a hand as she nearly turned the metal onto her supportive wrist. "Takes a lot of training to be able to hold it like that."

"Gotta start somewhere," she shrugged, but was nonplussed by Paz's steady hand keeping her from cutting herself. "I'm supposed to be showing you around..." she realized, her mouth dropping into an O shape. "Sorry, I'm being an awful host. I just got really excited. I've never met a Mandalorian before and then I saw-" she began to gush, bending back down to tuck Pig-Sticker back into her boot to save herself showing her face, which had began to grow hot with blush. 

"It's fine, your grace. You're considerably more hospitable than most people," Paz revealed, which made her brows push together. People weren't kind to Mandalorians? Did they have some sort of death wish? He held his arm back out to her and Faylen eagerly latched on, not feeling intimidated by the tall young man. "So the shrubs. What would you say about this one?" He pointed up toward one of a local creature. 

"That's Cù-sìth," she told him, admiring the beauty of the canine bush. "It's like a dog. They live in the forests. Most of the time they're harmless, except when you make them angry. They have a very distinct bark. If you hear the first one, you better start running. If you linger long enough to hear the third, you'll go raving mad."

"Ah, sounds very pleasant," Paz acknowledged warily. 

"I mean, they're cute. I've seen some before. As big as banthas, shaggy green fur, adorable amber eyes."

"I have a feeling that you tend to like things that are no good for you, princess," he chuckled softly. 

"I've never had one bark at me," Faylen insisted as they resumed their walk through the grounds. "Most of the wildlife here won't bother you unless you bother it. Cù-sìth is much the same. They just want to be left alone to their peace."

"What other kind of interesting fauna do you have here?"

"Plenty! Let me show you where the Frynocks. Now those are things you really don't want to meet. I swear, they'd survive even if Anaxes were nothing but a pile of rubble," she tugged him toward where the strange creature was hewn into green leaves. "They can only come out at night. The sunlight hurts them. So we don't ever see them around here... but some are bigger than you."

Faylen continued to pelt the Mandalorian with information about the animals native to the planet, specifically those she had come in contact with during her wild escapes. Rather than scold her, he listened on politely, offering a few questions and comments. His intrigue made her blather on much longer than she should have, but she was so excited to share and not be told that what she did was very unbecoming of a princess.  Plus it was a Mandalorian, so who knew how long it’d be before she met another one. Anaxes wasn’t renowned for being the most frequented planet, so she doubted she’d see a Mandalorian for a very long time. If rambling kept one in her attendance, then Faylen was going to keep spewing words until the sun set.

"Is that beskar? Your helmet I mean. I think your chestplate is durasteel if I'm not mistaken," she decided to lob a question at him, since he wasn't utterly stoic. 

"Yes, it is," he informed her. Maybe she mistook it, the slight bit of surprise that she knew what durasteel armor was when her home was gilded of stone, wood, and marble. 

Faylen sucked on her teeth again, her face screwing up slightly as she tried to swallow her next question. "Can I feel it?" The words fell out of her mouth anyways. 

"Uhm-"

"Sorry!" she squeaked, cheeks burning. She’d crossed a line, she knew it. "You don't have to. Don't feel obligated. I won't order you or anything. Just because I'm a princess doesn't mean I can make people do whatever I want. I was just curious because I've never seen a Mandalorian before or beskar or-"

"Breathe, your grace," he reminded her kindly. She had let the words basically vomit out of her mouth for fear of offending him. "It's alright, here-" In the same manner that Hux had, he knelt in front of her and tilted his head forward. "Just... touch. Don't try to remove it or I might have to use Bantha-Sticker on you."

Faylen wheezed slightly at his deadpan joke, splitting a wide smile. Lifting a hand, her tanned fingers brushed the side, icy cold beneath her pads. Testing at first, she then pushed her full palm against it, gazing on curiously as the frigid metal before drawing her hand back. "It's colder than normal steel. I'm surprised, since it's not ever very cold here... Thank you... for letting me-"

"You're welc-" but the warrior was interrupted, tensing slightly as a figure trundled out from behind one of the shrubs. Moving swifter than a lightning strike, the Mandalorian was back on his feet and brushed her behind him. "Stay behind me, princess," the warmth of his voice vanished in an instant and her eyes widened as he touched the blaster on his hip. Despite the order, the tremor of power in the male’s voice, she peeked her head around his figure and spotted the assailant that had startled them.

“Oh, it’s just  him ,” her voice dripped with irritation, lips tugging down as far as they would go as the gangly boy froze as if he’d been placed in carbonite. Rathas was in his gawky, in between phase, not quite growing into his new longer limbs, a pudgy baby face haunting him each time he looked in the mirror, trying to hide behind a curtain of lank greasy hair. She knew he didn’t like to wash it often because it curled and made his face look more rotund. Didn’t change the fact that it reeked, despite the oils he put in it in a vain attempt to mask the stench. “Mr- uh, Paz. It’s alright.”

“You know him, your grace?” the warrior craned his head slightly, the edge of his visor catching her in his peripheral. 

“Wish I didn’t,” Faylen snarked quietly, as not to be overheard. Stepping out from behind the shadow of the Mandalorian, she crossed her arms over her chest and drew up as haughtily as she could. For someone so small, the girl was little more than a skulking loth-cat, especially dwarfed by her blue durasteel and beskar counterpart. “What do you want, Rathas? Can’t you see that I’m escorting a guest around the grounds?” He had no place in interrupting or being there. It did not strike Faylen’s mind that he might also be curious. No, she was rather greedy, wishing to have all the time of day to drill Paz Vizsla with questions without being interrupted.

Rathas recovered swiftly after the Mandalorian’s hand slid off his blaster. Drawing himself up to his full height, he pressed a hand over his doublet, to his collar. “My apologies, your grace,” he simpered, hazel eyes mostly muddy save for a few flecks of amber and jade. “I heard that there were a pair of barbarians trolloping around the grounds and wanted to make certain that you were safe. Since you are the heir to the throne and of petite stature, I was worried for your wellbeing.”

Faylen’s temper flared at Rathas calling the Mandalorians barbarians. The same boy who’d tried to force a kiss on her a few weeks back was now pretending that he cared for her health? No, she knew he just wanted to interrupt and cause her a bit of misery after what she’d done. “Those ‘barbarians’ are the guests of the Crown and you’d do well to mind your tongue. Nor my father or I will suffer such indignance,” her voice was sharp, slightly petulant, but she did as papa had told her: to own her tone in moments like this. Even if she did not like to bask in the power of being royalty, Rathas was definitely an exception. “Now, since you can see that I am in perfectly good health, you may leave.”

“Your grace, even if you insist, these Mandalorians are outsiders. I could not, in good conscience, abandon you to wander deeper into the gardens with this man,” Rathas continued.

“My father trusts them. I put my faith in his hands… unless you are questioning the judgement of your king?”

The threat missed the target and Rathas curled his lip indignantly, rising to the challenge of her words.

“I do believe the princess asked, rather kindly, that you leave,” Paz spoke now, his voice rumbling like thunder, vacant of the mellow warmth he’d spoken to her earlier with. He brushed his sidearm, a much more  real threat than being told off by a whiny princess. 

Rathas knew when he was beat, not willing to bet that the Mandalorian wouldn’t shoot him where he stood. Forcing a smile on his thin mouth, he bowed stiffly. “I wish you well, your grace, and that no ill befalls you.”

She snorted as he turned and ducked away, not content until his stupid head was utterly out of sight. “Thank you,” she turned back to Paz, dropping her arms and the defensive posture. “I… don’t like him very much-” the memories washed over her like a deafening wave, the fear she’d felt pinned against the tree outside the castle grounds. Frollicking like she usually did, she hadn’t realized she was being followed until Rathas caught up with her. He was bigger than her and in spite of his spindly, spider limbs, he was stronger too. Rubbing her arms self consciously, she tried not to think about it anymore. “You see his nose? The way it was kinked like this-” she brushed her own, small upturned nose which was dotted with a tiny constellation of freckles. “-I broke his nose a few weeks ago. Gave him a real good hook-” she swung her arm up to indicate just how she did it, feeling her heart swell with a tiny jolt of adrenaline as she’d fought back against her assailant, remembering how the blood had gushed out like a river and ruined yet another of her shimmersilk gowns. Despite losing an expensive dress, she had reveled in the fact that she’d actually managed to break his nose.

The Mandalorian tilted his helmet curiously, gazing down at her intently. “Sounds like he deserved it.”

“He  did ,” she agreed, a dark menacing grate to the edge of the girl’s voice. “So-” she drew a deep breath, chasing away the torrent of swirling emotions. Instead, she plastered a smile to her face, big and dopey as her ears wagged slightly. “There’s still a little more of the gardens you haven’t seen. Then maybe I can bring you to the spires! They have the most magnificent views of the forests.”

 ----

“I was beginning to think that you’d never call upon me,  Jetii  ,” Hux Vizsla leered at the man across from him, so different from how he remembered him. The last time they had met, his fate had been written in the stars and the word they spoke was death. His own brother had made the mistake of crossing the Order amidst the Clone Wars and Hux believed he was going to die with many other Mandalorians, wishing to see the face of his son once more, wishing that he wouldn’t be leaving Paz without a  buir . Yet, Ardryll Krisdi stood in front of him not as a Jedi, but as a king. He suspected there had been more to this man a few years back, but after glimpsing the girl - probably less than a handful of years younger than his own son - he comprehended why Ardryll had been willing to help him in the first place: he had not been loyal to the Galactic Republic. Hiding a secret life away in the groves of Anaxes, he need only fake his death before laying down his lightsaber and returning amongst his people. Hux found the irony in this, considering that a Mandalorian had once done the same thing thousands of years ago.

“Come now,” Ardryll spoke in the same, perfectly manicured and intelligent tone. His eloquent accent reminded Hux duly that this was a cultured man, not only due to the station of his birth, but his time spent in Coruscant amongst the now fallen Order. “We both know that term no longer applies to me. I forsook that path the moment I laid eyes on my late wife and then had Faylen.”

The lust for a family. Hux could not blame Ardryll, as family was central to Mandalorian life. How the Jedi could turn their backs on all attachment… he did not know. What he did know was how unnatural he thought it was and that it was no surprise that one of their own had gone manic. It had happened before. History seemed to repeat itself often with the Jedi. One would think they would learn that turning their back on love resulted in nothing but a ticking time bomb to see which would detonate first. Hux hadn’t really believed the transmission he had received, thinking that Ardryll would keep himself away from anything that so much as smelled like the Republic.

“Why am I here?” Hux asked tartly. This was a business transaction, not a run-ashore. The king wanted something and that was the only reason he had bothered the Mandalorian. 

“Please, let us go somewhere a little more private,” Ardryll requested, lifting a palm and gesturing toward a thicket of rose bushes in full bloom. Even if Hux was irritated with being there, he could not deny that the planet was beautiful, especially the forests that the selphi-subrace occupied. Whilst a small fragment of the mountainous world, the Anaxians had found a way to peacefully coexist with their woad. An ability that Mandalorians had not learned, after desecrating their home in sake of mining for beskar. There was a sublime loveliness in Genmaris, the lack of steel walls, and the warmth openness from the halls to the outdoors. Lead out to a gazebo coated in a cloak of ivy, Ardryll sat down on a wrought iron chair and let out a low sigh. “I’ve not called you here to waste your time.”

“That has yet to be seen,” Hux retorted, taking the other seat and gazing out amongst the gardens. On the far side, he could see the glint of his  ad’s  armor, stooping slightly over the princess who was smiling larger than the man would have thought possible. “Your kid is interesting. She got any of your talent?”

“Hm?” the king glanced up, having been deep in thought before he shook his head, long pointed ears swaying. “No, she does not have a connection to the Force. Thank the Maker for that.”

Beneath his helmet, Hux frowned slightly, wondering why anyone would not wish for their child to be gifted in that manner. He also had not known the Anaxian to be distracted. He was a highly trained Jedi Knight, honed and capable of defeating Mandalorians. “What is… going on here?”

“Your son seems to like her,” Ardryll muttered quietly, turning his luminous eyes to pin Hux right where he sat. They were molten, like gold melted in the Foundry. 

Hux glanced back out, watching as the teen let the girl hang onto him, her excited gibbering palpable even from the spot they roosted in, keeping a hawk’s eye on the pair. “Why? You offering to marry her off?” he joked lamely, but was slightly taken aback by the soft sigh that parted the king’s lips. “No kriffing way-”

“Not marriage,” the Anaxian finally said. “But Mandalorians take Foundlings, do they not?”

“We do, but-” his words died on the back of his throat, observing the clasp of the Jedi’s hands and the slouch in his shoulders. “The Empire.” Separatists ripped apart most of the Mandalore Sector and had also ravaged parts of Anaxes. The was a brief respite, followed by the wake of Imperial clone troopers continuing to wash over the Core Planets, slowly marching their way out across the galaxy, taking planet by planet or destroying those who refused to comply. “You’re a  Jetii  , a  king . You’re telling me there’s no better option than being Mandalorian?”

“Anaxians are too identifiable. From our dark skin, pointed ears, to the fact that Faylen has many goddess tears… There will be no doubt who she is. I sense a darkness on the horizon and I know I have one more battle with my lightsaber, but-” he pursed his lips, closing his bright eyes and slinking back into his seat. “There will be no mercy for her. Even if she has no promise to be a Jedi, she is my daughter. I know what is coming and  he  shall not spare her.  He did not spare any of the younglings-” the king’s voice cracked and a single fat salty drop ran down his cheek. “Please. I know your Tribe keeps their helmets on aside from those that are family. Our debt. Pay it in this manner. Take her and train her.”

Hux remained eerily quiet, glancing back out toward where the two trotted along, Faylen tugging Paz in the direction of the castle now. “She is older and small-” his voice finally sizzled out of the vocoder, weak and ill. The idea of the little girl being killed twisted like a knife in his belly. “There’s really no one?” Hux knew the answer to this, as the king had just explained that the child was too identifiable. Between her golden markings, her eyes, to the dark tan of her skin; Anaxians were unmistakable, especially the princess. Even the selphi were different, in spite of the pointed ear similarities. 

“Faylen is strong. She broke the nose of a boy twice her size just a few weeks ago. And she always finds a way to sneak out of the castle, despite all the guards and droids being assigned to keep an eye on her,” Ardryll informed him, finally opening his eyes to implore the Mandalorian - to save the last little shred of his family. “I cannot take her elsewhere. Because of what I am, I will be hunted ruthlessly. I do not wish that for her. I must stand my ground here as the king, support my people in our final hours, make one last effort for the sake of Genmaris.”

Even if they had been enemies at one point, Hux’s chest burned with respect for the king’s refusal to abandon his people to hide his daughter. Still, he pitied the Jedi, who had chosen the path of love to slowly lose it piece by piece. “Broke a boy’s nose?” he snorted, eyes trailing the girl as she disappeared behind a set of shrubs with his  ad. 

“Anaxians are quicker than humans. Not stronger by any means, but we are lighter on our feet, as you are keenly aware,” Ardryll reminded him, thrusting the Vizsla back into a fit of memories, the hazy glow of the yellow saber in the Jedi’s hands. Whirling it like a dervish, creating an arc of light reminiscent of the sun, striking him back against the frame of the gunship - cornering him like a rat. Even if he had beskar, the Jedi had known to strike where the armor did not meet. Hux should have died.

“How much time do you think you have?” Hux inquired, looking to the trees that would soon be barren and charred, the tall manicured grass that would be trodden to nothing but slick dirt, and the gardens which would wilt under the barrage of blasterfire. All this beauty would be gone, replaced with nothing but desolace and strife, blood and bone, and death. These were not things that Hux was unfamiliar with, but he did not think that Anaxes deserved it. The planet was quiet and peaceful. They had done nothing more than remain loyal to the Republic and that was enough for the Empire to drop the guillotine over their heads. No mercy for those who would not convert.

“A few days at most,” tilting his head, the king’s dark hair glinted like obsidian against his circlet. “You’ll take her?”

Hux grumbled, wondering what the hell he was going to do with a princess. Foundlings were not usually acquired this way, but the fact that Anaxes faced its demise and the girl would not be spared, he couldn’t turn his back on the child in good conscience. She was older. Foundlings came in all shapes and ages, from infants to teenagers. Hux would have preferred her to be a handful of years younger, as it would be easier to train her when she was still highly impressionable. “I owe a debt,” was all Hux betrayed, thinking back to Ardryll’s praise of his daughter. He did not think the Anaxian would lie just to impress him. The girl might have some training, but she had also been raised as royalty, which meant she’d probably never had a hard day in her life. “The Way… it will be difficult for her.”

“Faylen is a resilient child. She will do well amongst your people. She needs only the chance.”

Hux resigned to drinking in the gardens, admiring it and committing it to memory because he knew that once they left, none of it would remain. The king let him wander on his own, pausing by a lattice of strange violet flowers that hung like bells, long golden stigmas hanging out like a dog lolling its tongue. Taking it between his fingers, he turned over the petals and thought of Sivo and how the hue of the flower was similar to her beskar. What would Sivo have done?  She wanted a daughter so badly to train. To teach how to be good at both shooting and cooking. To raise a large clan. Our clan was supposed to be large too.

Aware that no one would miss them when the planet was burning in a few days time, Hux picked several of the bell flowers and took them into the castle. A few people eyed him, as if he’d done something against the rules - picking flowers from the king’s garden - but they could all go sod off. Acquiring directions from a servant, he was escorted to a chamber that they had been afforded for the night. The room was as large as his home back on Concordia, making him huff an irritated sigh. He’d been to more exuberant places, decadence dripping off the walls to the point where it felt gaudy. Even if Genmaris wasn’t that overdone, it was still slightly overwhelming. 

Paz arrived shortly thereafter, glancing at the pile of flowers on the table, tilting his helmet in slight confusion. Dismissing them, he plunked down into one of the plush lounge chairs and slid his helmet off. Fussing with the mess of blonde helmet curls, he pinned his icy eyes at his father. 

“How was the tour?” Hux inquired, pulling his own helmet off as he laid back on the bed and glared at the ceiling. Bed felt nice.

“Don’t think I’ve ever had a tour like that,” his  ad  chuckled. “I assume that most royalty is not as…  enthused .”

“Seemed like a  copikla adiik  ,” Hux speculated, rubbing his eyes as he considered the situation even more. A bucket would have to go right on her head, but then again those  ears would be a problem. Maybe some sort of headband to pin them down so they wouldn’t get chafed?

“She carries a knife on her,” Paz laughed, still smiling at the thought of the princess. “Even named it - Pig-Sticker.”

Hux chuckled at this, wondering where the princess had gotten such a braw disposition from. He assumed it was because Ardryll hadn’t reigned her in. 

“Why are we here? I know you have a debt to settle. The king is the  Jetii that helped you escape on Mandalore, was he not?”

Hux sat up and nodded at Paz. “ We are taking the girl with us,  ” he switched to Mando’a, uncertain if they were being listened to. Ardryll had mentioned that others might have ears around the castle. The teen’s eyes hardened and he gave a questioning look rather than ask openly. “  The planet will fall to the Empire soon. Her father is Jedi. They will kill her. She is to become your sister. ”

This could go one of two ways with his  ad,  but he was glad to see it go in the better. Paz set his jaw and gave a stern, comprehending nod. He did not question, he did not disagree. Instead, he turned back toward the hearth he sat near, watching the flames lick hungrily at the wood, crackling softly. “Kaysh mandokarla. ” 

Hux hummed at these words, pleased to hear it, almost as if they settled some of his doubts. Mandokarla; the  right  stuff. His own son was declaring that the girl had the  right  stuff to be Mandalorian, a blend of aggression, tenacity, loyalty, and lust for life. Truly, this was all that Hux could hope for the kid, aware that her journey in joining the Tribe would not be easy. She would be behind other children her age, many of which would have a few years of combat training and Mando’a on her. Still,  if she had the heart, that was one less thing to worry about. 

A soft knock on the door roused them, both immediately reaching for their helmets and replacing them. No one was allowed to see their faces - only  buir, ad,  and  riduur  could look amongst each other freely. Paz pushed himself to his feet and answered the door, a hand tentatively brushing his blaster by his side as he cracked it open. His shoulders relaxed immediately and through the small slit, Hux saw that it was Faylen with a tray full of food. 

“Papa told me that you couldn’t have dinner with us because of your Creed,” she started, drawing in as deep of a breath as her tiny frame would allow. “So I brought food for the both of you, since you must be hungry.” 

Paz opened the door more so that he could take the tray from her. “Thank you, your grace…” but his  ad was confused by the gesture. “Couldn’t you have sent a servant?”

The child spluttered, clearly trying to come up with a rebuttal, but instead began turning a shade of pink. “Y-you’re our guests. I thought-” Hux couldn’t help but laugh. “Good night!” she squeaked, darting away before she could embarrass herself any further. 

No sooner than the door had shut, Hux roared with deep laughter. Paz turned around, still puzzled by what was going on, standing awkwardly with the tray in his gloved hands. “What?” the teen asked finally, needing the joke explained to him. 

“What did you  do on that walk?” Hux inquired through his guffaws.

“I didn’t do anything!” Paz’s voice was slightly panicked, as if his  buir were insinuating that he had laid a hand on the princess. 

“It’s probably nothing, just harmless curiosity,” Hux waved off, still chortling quietly. Paz grumbled, still not completely understanding, as he set the food down on the table. He’d comprehend one day once he had more experience with people. Most folks stayed as far away from Mandalorians as they could manage. The fact that the girl had appeared, doing a servant’s job, eying Paz with the biggest, golden irises… Hux knew the child liked him or else she wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. Good. It was better that she didn’t fear Mandalorians if she was to become one.

 ---

Skirting through the hallways, she ducked back into her room, heart pounding in her ears as loud as thunder as she flung the door shut behind her. Pressing her back against it, her ears burned as if they were on fire. Why? The moment the blue Mandalorian had opened the door, she had been so excited, remembering their afternoon together. Not that anything much had happened other than her showing him around the castle, but it had been fun. For once, she hadn’t been treated like a little doll or patronized, and Faylen was eager to get another chance to talk to Paz - even if it were as fleeting as dropping off dinner for him and his father. Although, the moment he’d asked why she hadn’t sent a servant made her freeze. It was… rather strange that the princess would come deliver the guest’s dinner?

Idiot. He’s going to think you’re stupid now, Faylen rationalized, pouting as she pulled her circlet off and began untangling the pins from her wavy hair. Tossing them haphazardly on the vanity, she threw open the balcony doors and leaned up against the bannister, just as she had in the morning. A soft sigh parted her lips, the breeze winding fingers through her loose tendrils, which comforted her scalp. Night has cascaded over the grounds, her hands reaching up toward the stars. Once, papa had told her that when someone died, they became a star and burned brightly for longer than they’d lived. Now, Faylen knew this was not true, but she liked to pretend the one, biggest star just above her balcony was her mother. 

Rather than go to sleep immediately, Faylen pulled out a stack of books and set a kettle on the fire. Tucking into bed with her favorite novel, she blew the twisting steam over the top and enjoyed the soft floral flavor of the beverage. Her tummy warmed and she flipped a page, resigning herself to her evening routine. This tale was about Jedi and how one had fallen in love with someone outside the Order. Time melted away, her tea long since drained as she plucked through the pages of the romance, nearly pushing her nose into the book as she squealed quietly at the first kiss. Deciding she’d gotten to a point where she could finally put the bookmark in, Faylen flopped down in her bed and put a pillow over her face. 

She was a 13 year old girl, but she had often been taught by private tutors. There were other children around the castle, to include Rathas, but she’d never really felt close to any of them. No, they were rather petulant and obsessed with things like the latest fashion or gossip. None wanted to talk about things that Faylen liked - such as running amok in the woods. They told her that was dangerous and one day she’d get maimed or die. She didn’t think that would happen, but took their goading as more of a reason to trot off. Her evenings were devoted mostly to ignoring her teachers and taking a moment to enjoy leisurely books - humming quietly about the romances, envying the freedom of the characters in the book. While she doubted she would marry Rathas, she also knew that it probably wouldn’t be a decision she was allowed to make. Thus, she went through novels in the library like fodder, filling her tiny heart to the brim with the idea that maybe she might get to experience it and not a predetermined marriage. 

No sooner than her light went out, did the wispy curtains by her balcony shuddered and an explosion rocked the entire castle. Faylen sat up immediately, her eyes going wide and her ears pointing down. Adjusting to the darkness of the room, she could make out the finer details as she knew them, controlling her breathing after it hitched, leaning over toward her nightstand to reach for the blaster concealed beneath the drawer. Papa always told her to have a weapon stashed nearby in case someone came for her. The noise was chased rapidly with gunshots, ringing in her sensitive ears, her feet sliding over the comforter as she cradled the weapon to her chest. 

Hide.

But her legs weren’t quite working. She had Pig-Sticker by the side of her bed, trembling as she checked the cartridge on the blaster and cocked it, posting her wrists on the edge of the mattress and pointing the muzzle toward the door. What was going on? Screaming. So much screaming. But they didn’t last long, followed with a terrible silence as each cry was severed swiftly. Her door rattled on the hinges, her finger moving from the side of the pistol to graze the trigger. Swallowing hard, the anguished cries faded and were only replaced with the tense beating of her heart, thrumming steadily like a war drum. The hinges snapped and the door flung open. She squeezed the trigger before seeing the dull glint of beskar. 

A groan followed the shot, which pinged off a helmet -  a blue helmet . 

Faylen’s gums flapped, but no words came out as Paz Vizsla stood in the doorway with a rifle strapped across his chest. Dazed, but uninjured from the shot, he staggered forward and glanced toward where the shot had come from. Oh kriff, he was going to kill her. She scrambled under the bed, screeching like a feral animal when a gloved hand locked on around her bare ankle. Slashing awkwardly with Pig-Sticker she heard him curse. 

“Dank farrik!  Stop it! I’m trying to help you!”

Pulled out from underneath the bed, the Mandalorian crouched beside her, motioning for her to be quiet. Faylen’s eyes burned, but she chewed her lip, disoriented and confused as her ears sagged beside her. 

“Get up. We need to go,” he ordered, grabbing her hand and wrenching her to her feet. Faylen staggered, in nothing more than her sleep dress, holding onto her blaster and knife with paling knuckles. A quiet sob shook her shoulders as she sat the lights flashing through the thin shade of her balcony curtains. “ Princess!”

Despite the insistence in his voice, Faylen was paralyzed with fear and horror. Rather than try to get her to recover, the Mandalorian hissed a sigh and grabbed her. Picking her up like a child, he adjusted the strap of his rifle, settling it over the both of them before running for the door. Faylen leered over his shoulder, quaking like a leaf barely hanging onto a tree during a storm, as they left behind her room and belongings. Absolute mayhem consumed the castle, the Mandalorian speaking into a comlink in a language she didn’t understand. They were running through the halls that she had been raised in, the pale elas stone smattered with crimson. The vines sagged, no longer reaching out to passerbyers as they curled into themselves and withered slightly from being exposed to blaster smoke.

A shot echoed loudly nearby, Faylen crying out and pressing her face into the Mandalorian’s neck as her ears ached. “I need to-” they ducked around a corner, obscured briefly by the shadows. “-put you down. Wait here,  vod’ika. ”

Faylen was set back on her bare feet, her toes stinging from the cold of the stone as she floundered slightly, reaching desperately for the Mandalorian as he stepped out from behind cover. A thin sheet of sweat coated her skin, hairs standing on end as she quivered in the shadows, eyes stretched wide as she saw white armored soldiers prowling through the corridors. They moved in swift regiment, prowling forward in a fine formation and right in their direction. Paz lifted his rifle and shot first, using the element of surprise before the soldiers began shouting in a foreign language. He returned vicious words with them in the same tongue before taking two more down. He sidestepped, diverting attention from her, but she noticed that he was walking straight toward a spire hallway, which would be locked seeing that it had her father’s study in it. Whimpering, she considered what might happen as the snow white enemies made ground toward the Mandalorian. He’d be backed into a corner.

They passed her hiding spot and she stepped out slightly, wondering what she should do. Paz said that he was helping her and she’d never seen those soldiers before. If she let them kill the Mandalorian, what hope did she have after? Swallowing hard, her fingers tightened around the hilt of Pig-Sticker. The knife was still a vibro-blade and the armor of the soldiers appeared to be similar in design to what Paz had been wearing… which meant that the throat would be exposed. Rolling her heels against the frigid marble, she followed them quietly, using her knowledge of the castle to hide behind statues and walls. There were three left now and Paz was at the door, little cover remaining as he realized now that the path was a dead end. 

Faylen had managed to sneak up just a few scant meters behind the troopers, hand shaking as she bunched the muscles in her legs up. Right at this moment, she was wishing she’d practiced a lot more with her combat. Bowling forward, she leapt onto a chair and used the height to fling herself to the nearest soldiers. The collision with the back of the clone’s armor drove the wind right from her lungs and her head spun, legs coiling around his hips before she reeled, nearly flopping right off. Screaming, she plunged the dagger into the exposed, black throat as the soldier flailed in surprise. Her fingers began damp and sticky, the vocoder sputtering as the soldier choked on his own blood. The distraction she had caused was enough for the other two to round on her, the body of the soldier she’d clamped onto falling to the ground on top of her. Stunned beneath the body of the man, she watched as the rifles trained on her and wondered if she was going to die. Her life flashed before her eyes and she hoped more than anything in that last moment - that the Mandalorian could escape with her diversion.

But the flash of red was not levied in her, but pierced their white armor, smoting it with blackened fingers before they crashed to the floor: dead. Still beneath the corpse of the soldier, she wriggled helplessly until a shadow fell over her. Shoving the body off, Paz tore her to her feet, her white chemise soaked entirely from collar to torso with thick, viscous warmth. Her fingers were still tight around the humming vibro-blade. 

“Looks like Pig-Sticker works,  vod’ika ,” he murmured, pressing a hand into the small of her back. “Do you know the way to the starship hangars?”

She wagged her head, her neck aching at her overdramatization. When she glanced down at her hand, she saw the dark liquid coating it. In the dim light of evening, the blood was discreet, indistinguishable aside from the unique heat and ply as she smoothed it in her fingers with macabre interest. Paz ushered her forward, stirring her from her fixation as she drew in a sharp breath, not realizing that she had been holding it. Her knuckles ached from how tight she was holding the blade, but her body kicked into autopilot. 

Survive. Survive. Survive.

The word echoed in her head, into an empty void as she thought of nothing else. Not the screams, smell of blaster smoke, the metallic tang of blood heavy on the back of her throat, or the haze of battle. Her bare feet splattered into pools of liquid, which she did not need to look at twice to know  what it was. Darting through the halls, she barely registered the fact that she had a gloved palm in her hand, weaving them dexterously throughout the halls, nooks, and crannies that she’d used to evade the guards dozens of times to get out of the castle and into the wilderness. 

Genmaris’ last stand was by the starship port of the palace, her eyes swiftly adjusting to the lights that were posted outside the blast doors, flanked by a pair of platinum clad Anaxian knights. Stiffing at the sight of the princess, coated in blood and wild eyed, they parted ways to allow her entrance. There was little respite, the folks that had managed to flee onto the flight deck quailing and weeping behind storage crates. Her brows snared, cocking her head as she saw Merith breathing shallowly against a wall, cradling her abdomen as her grey smock was stained a hue darker, her tan skin pallid, ears sagging as she clung desperately to the last ounces of life. 

“Faylen!” her father’s voice snared her eyes away from her handmaiden and she saw him striding across the shed floor to meet her in his strong arms. “Heavens is any of this yours?” 

She broke down, tears spilling out of her eyes again as he checked the wounds. “N-no. I don’t think so,” she stammered. “P-pa-pa what’s going on?”

“We have a brief moment. I’ve set the charges, but once they go off, we have all of minutes to flee,” Hux Vizsla approached, a rifle strapped across his chest as he entreated her father.

Ardryll stiffened and a low, deep breath parted his lips as he gave a comprehending nod. “Faylen-” he picked her up, setting her back on her feet. “I love you very much. So very much. Now, I need you to be a good girl and listen very carefully. The Vizslas are taking you away from here. A Sith is coming.”

Sith. Her eyes stretched even further, which she hadn’t thought possible at this point. Her lips trembled and her ears hung low. Papa had told her about Sith, the terrible and evil Force-wielders who fought Jedi. “When will I see you again? Where will we meet?”

For the first time in her life, her papa did not answer her. He bent down, brushing his nose to her brow before kissing it. “I love you, Faylen.” Stepping away from her, Faylen turned and watched in horror as he pulled a silver cylinder off of his belt. His clothes… in her shock she had not realized he was wearing strange brown robes. He still had his circlet on, but the tan and brown robes were unlike anything her father had ever adorned. Switching the cylinder on, a golden blade sliced up and hummed with the whispers of thunder indicating lightning was on the horizon. “Vizsla, I will buy you as much time as possible. They will be distracted by a Jedi.”

“ Papa! ” 

She lunged for him, but collided with a durasteel chest. Pig-Sticker clattered to the ground from her hand and arms wrapped around her so tight that she thought she was being strangled. Far. They were getting further from him, moving swiftly and into the hull of a ship as she saw the white armor of the clone soldiers breach the hangar entrance. Hux pressed a button on his vambrace, the ground trembling and the walls shuddering as multiple bombs around Genmaris Castle exploded. 

“NO! LET ME GO! NO!” she shrieked, the dock to the ship listing upward as Hux flung himself into the cockpit. Flailing against the blue Mandalorian, she fought in vain mostly, so tiny and small compared to the tall teenager. 

“ Vod’ika! You’re going to hurt yourself-” 

And of course, she did. She sent a fist flying into the helmet, lips pinching together as she held the breath that billeted up from her lung. Grinding out a furious howl, she cradled her knuckles that were slip and aching, the pain lancing up to her elbow. 

“Shh, calm down.”

That was absolutely the last thing she wanted to hear, having watched her home burning around her, slick with the blood of her people, and her father charging off with a lightsaber in his hands. He knew he wasn’t going to survive the Sith.  He was a distraction . The original question she had asked: why were the Mandalorians here? - was now answered. Papa had called them to take her away to safety. Her hand hurt just as much as her heart, but she was in such despair that she barely noticed the hand patting the back of her head or running a soothing hand along her back. Despite having just punched him, she sagged against Paz and continued to release tears like a water fountain - to the point where she was hiccuping as the ship lurched beneath them. 

She didn’t know how much time had passed, other than the fact she had calmed down to only small sniffles, her entire face wet with salty tears. 

“Can I see?” Paz asked gently, trying to turn up her hand.

Her body was still stiff, but she relaxed slightly to let him pull up the fist that she’d punched him with. 

“Hm, going to need some bacta. If not for my bucket, you might’ve broken my nose too,  vod’ika ,” Paz decided matter-of-factly. 

Faylen coughed slightly, her nose all leaky, thus foiling her effort to scoff at his joke. 

“Do you think you can sit here? I’ll go get you a blanket-”

She shook her head, latching onto him like a tick, refusing to let go. What if he died too? What if he turned around and left? That would be one less person to be around, one less person who she trusted enough to attach to. 

He sighed quietly, pushing static through his modulator as he sat back down, muttering reassuringly in the foreign language he’d spoken earlier. Faylen’s eyes leered into the silver durasteel wall for a long while until her lashes fluttered and she closed them.

When she opened them again, the ship was listing through hyperspace, the terror of Genmaris a dull throb in her heart and the back of her head. Part of her expected to be put to bed, but was surprised to find herself still nestled against the Mandalorian who had also dozed off against the hull of the ship. Now that she wasn't soaked with tears and boogers, she could see and smell a little better. Her chemise was crusty, browned where the blood had soaked in, and chafing slightly at her skin. 

Sitting nearby, on top of a storage container, was Hux Vizsla - the dark green Mandalorian that had taken her from the demise of her home. Faylen had traveled a few times before, but always in comfortable luxury. The places she had been to were Naboo and Coruscant. Otherwise, she'd not been off Anaxes. He had a helmet in his hands, not his own, but one that was painted a dark, plum purple. 

"You're awake,  ad'ika, " he stated simple, his voice rumbling through his modulator as the impassive T-shaped visor leveled at her. There was nothing menacing about him, nor the other Vizsla that she was sitting on. From the moment she had met the both of them, she had felt rather comfortable around their masked faces and they'd not given her a reason to change her mind on the matter. Others would be filled with dread, fearful of what expression the Mandalorians might be hiding just beneath the beskar, but Faylen knew they were human and mortal. No droid would have comforted her like they did, nor would the droid have had a reason to feel enough pity to take her away. "Come here."

The demand was gentle, kind almost. Her legs quivered, but she did manage to push up eventually, disdainful over the state of her clothing and her skin. Her feet were raw and dried blood crusted like a cracked desert landscape with each footfall. Even if she was unharmed, the child had been through hell and her soiled dress and filthy skin was a testament to that. 

"What's going to happen?" she asked quietly, approaching him so that she could glance down at the helmet he was holding. The visor was shaped slightly different, the wings like petals, leaning up in a Y-shape rather than T. The visor was dark and tinted with metallic midnight blue. 

" Gai bal manda, " he muttered, finally looking up from the helm again. "You will become a part of our family."

While the words were soothing, the idea behind them made her heart seize in her chest. Our family. The implication that there was nothing left on Abaxes and would never be. All hope that her father might've survived dashed like a starship exploding in a dogfight. There were few tears left in the girl, but she managed to let out a strangled and guttral whine, like a loth-cat whose tail had been stepped on. Hux put the helmet beside him and picked her up, propping her on his knee just as her papa would do. Running a gloved hand between her shoulder blades, he continued until her whimpering had quieted.

"What that means," he glanced at her, waiting until she drew a few shuddering breaths. "Is you'll start anew. You will join our Tribe and be raised as a Mandalorian; as my  ad'ika  and  vod  to Paz. I hear that you're good with blades - look at you - a  verd'ika  . Your  buir was very proud of you. This is what he wanted, for you to be safe."

"Why did they attack us? Why would anyone do that? Genmaris is peaceful, we never-" her eyes burned, but no tears came out, only a cracked noise from the back of her throat as she leaned into the comforting touch of the armored warrior. What he was saying didn't quite register in her head, thoughts jumbled up and out of order, his praise buzzing like bees, the satisfaction of being told she had done well not reaching her brain. 

"Because they do not care who they hurt or kill. The Empire is taking the galaxy and will step over anyone who so much as lifts a chin stubbornly in their direction. All they want is power. To them, we are insects," he answered honestly, the words registering as she nodded slowly. Even if it was a callous way of putting it, she needed to hear it phrased like this - to be told that she'd done no wrong and they were just bad people.

"Will they come for me? Or for your Tribe?"

"If we stir trouble, perhaps," he acknowledged grimly. "But they shall not know where you are or where the covert is. They will be too busy worrying about bigger fish than sniffing out you,  verd'ika  -" he picked up the helmet and showed it to her. "Because once you put this on, you will no longer be a princess. You will be  Mando'ade ."

"What would I even be the princess of?" she forced a chuckle, failing miserably and hiccuping. 

Hux offered a gentle laugh, the first bit of true warmth she felt, coursing all the way to her numb toes. The girl leaned into his shoulder, setting her head against the frigid green beskar, shivering slightly. "When you don this helm there are rules. You cannot take it off in front of any living thing - except for your  buir, ad,  and future  riduur..  . Paz is your  vod  , so he would be an exception as well. You may call other Mandalorians  vod  , but they are not the same as him. You will be a Vizsla from now on. Do you understand,  verd'ika?"

“Wha-what does all that mean?" 

Hux translated the Mando'a to her and comprehension dawned on her face. Only immediate family could see her face going forward, which would only be Hux and Paz. He explained the Resol'nare, which was a code of Six Actions that the Mandalorians lived by: education and armor, self-defense, the tribe, their language, and their leader. Well, now that would also apply to her and she had to hold them to the highest regard and strive for perfection. The soft daydreams she'd had, wondering what Mandalorian life was like only to find herself unwillingly thrust into their civilization. Despite how jarring it was, Faylen felt slightly hopeful, glad that she wouldn't be alone and left to fend for herself. While her heart still hurt, at least she had something to look forward to. 

"Is this to be my helmet?" she pointed down at the dark beskar, which he had a tight grip on. 

"Yes, but before you don it, why don't you get cleaned up. It'll be too big for you and we need to find a way to make certain your ears don't get beat up inside the bucket," Hux set her back down on her feet, pulling out a set of black clothes which had been folded neatly. "They will probably be too big, but it's better than that-" he gestured to her blood stained smock. "Fresher is right around the corner."

Loading up the clothes in her arms, she went into the fresher and glanced in the mirror. Staring back was a ghost of a child, her tanned skin pale and clammy, goddess makings so translucent that they were barely visible beneath the crumbling flakes of blood. Parts of her hair were mattered with more of the dried liquid, creating a womp rat's nest on the side of her head where she'd slept against Paz's shoulder. Her eyes were puffy and red, still damp and irritated looking. A new way of nausea and despair hit her as she looked at herself, the last few pent up tears leaking out as her chin trembled. Starting the shower, she peeled off the disgusting nightgown and sat on the floor, clutching her knees and rocking quietly as the gentle rain of the water plastered her hair around her in a soaking wet curtain. Finally, she stood up and grabbed the soap, resigning herself to lazy scrubbing as it felt weird to not have help; Merith had almost always been there to assist with her back. Now Merith was dead... probably.

After getting out of the shower, she dried off and put on the new clothes, which appeared to be similar to the clothing that the Mandalorians wore beneath their armor. The pants were much too long, wide around the hips, and the shirt bulky, falling down to her knees. Faylen managed to roll the hem of the pants and shirt sleeves, securing the belt around her midsection to keep the two in place. Balling up her ruined shift, she left the fresher behind and found the Vizslas sitting by a low table, helmets turning in her direction. 

" Verd'ika -" Hux motioned her over, holding up a makeshift bandana that appeared to be made of a ripped shirt sleeve rolled up and stretchy, so that it could fit over her head. He adjusted it, pushing her hair out of her face. The soft fabric pinned her long ears against the side of her head, smothering them in a tight embrace. "You will need a new name. Faylen is too unique," he informed her, continuing to adjust the headband until it covered most of her scalp and comfortably tucked her ears away. 

"Something Mandalorian?" Faylen suggested quietly as she was handed an elastic band. Without needing to be told, began plaiting her long, thick hair, tying off the end. 

"Do you have any ideas? You should pick your own name," Hux said, turning over her helmet to add a little extra padding along the inside. "Is there anything... a word or feeling that means a lot to you?"

There were many things on Anaxes that meant a lot to Faylen. From the forests and glades, to the evening sky dotted with stars. Closing her eyes, she let out a soft hum trying to decide which meant the most. A name too similar to her lost home would be a painful reminder each time it was spoken, a dull throb in her heart as she thought about her Papa and the life she could have had if the Empire had not stolen that from her. "Is there a word for song?" A new life, a new song - just like the birds outside her balcony that she'd listen for in the morning. 

" Laar ?"

Faylen shook her head, not liking the sound of that. "Or bird?" She was flying away from home to find a new place, migrating like the paradise birds that would go to the mountains in the summer and return to Genmaris during the autumn. Only, Faylen would probably never return. 

" Senaar ."

" Senaar ," she repeated quietly, closing her eyes and imagining the verdant plumage chased by sunset oranges and ambers. "Senaar," she decided more resolutely. Faylen was a bird now. Not a paradise bird. If she had stayed on Anaxes she could have been one, gilded and pretty. Now she was more like a bird of prey. She was going to be Mandalorian after all. "Sena for short?"

" Sen'ika ," Paz rumbled, slightly amused. "Little bird."

"Little," she snorted, finally finding the heart to smile faintly.

"Tiny," Hux agreed, turning toward her and offering the helmet. "It is time."

"Time?"

" Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad, Senaar Vizsla," he bent down, touching his helmet to her forehead. A wave of emotion consumed her, choking her up as if dark, churning water were drowning her. Despite the fact that all it was was cold metal on her brow and words she did not understand, she knew her new name when he spoke it. The tightness of his fingers on her shoulder, the promising tone of voice - the promise that she'd never be alone despite all that she had lost. Papa had made certain she was in good hands, hands that would never let her go, despite their differences. Soon, those differences would be scattered amongst the ocean - lost to the tides of change as the gaps were bridged and she became just another visor amongst many. 

" Ni kyr'tayl gai vod,  Senaar Vizsla," Paz spoke next, drawing her attention from Hux and over to the young man who was to become her brother. "Call my  ori'vod , it means big brother."

" Ori'vod  ," she repeated. There had been times where she'd dreamed of having a sibling, older or younger. A small, but characteristically dopey smile plastered itself to her face as she realized what she had gained in the shadow of her loss. "Then... you were calling me little sister before?  Vod'ika  ? Because little bird is  Sen'ika ."

"She's a natural," Paz crooned to their father. 

"Smart kid. At least you have some brain cells. Might have to make up for your  aliit  every so often," Hux joked, tapping her head with his helmet again. "Now, let's see how this fits and we can make some adjustments."

Lifting the helmet up, Faylen - no... Sena - placed it on her head. The wrappings on her head did well to keep her ears from flopping around. She hissed slightly, the tips still getting pinched near the crown where there was little to no padding. Despite it, she blinked a few times as her eyes adjusted to the inside. A hydraulic hiss was followed by a click, the vocoder whizzing with her heavy breathing. She could not smell anything other than the beskar, which had a slightly acidic and cool aroma. Her view from the visor was distorted, illuminated as she saw the entire room through a filter. The lights weren't as keen, but the edges of the ship, the corners chasing away shadows in the same method her eyes could naturally adjust.

"How does it feel?" Hux inquired, making her jolt slightly as the visor shifted with a pulsing analytical wave, shifting to the sound of his voice, informing her that he was 70% questioning, 20% concerned, 10% unreadable. 

"It can-" she was startled again, her voice coming out modulated and rather airy like a little whizzing fairy, high pitched and obnoxious.

"Ah, hold on, that's not a good setting. Sova always had a deep voice," he grumbled, reaching up to fiddle with a sensor on the side of the helmet. "Try again?"

"It can read emotions in the voice?" The modulator was closer to her own voice now, but there was still a mechanical ring to it, making her sound much colder than typical. Interesting. Was the purpose to obscure their true voice to keep it from being analyzed by enemies? Or perhaps the purpose was to seem scarier and less mortal. 

"Yes, among other things. How does it feel?"

"It needs more padding around-" she lifted her hand and patted the spots where the tips of her ears were pinned. "-there and there. Pinching."

"Off it goes-" he reached for it, but gave her a meaningful tilt of his helmet. "Remember what I told you. No one other than the two of us can see your face, Sena. Anyone who tries to do this-"

"Stick em!"

Hux chortled, her helmet reading that he was mostly amused before he disengaged the seal and pulled it off. "You're going to do well,  verd'ika ."

--- translations

Ni kyr'tayl gai sa'ad - I know your name as my child

Ni kyr'tayl gai sibling - I know your name as my sibling

Aliit - family/clan

Verd'ika - little soldier

Gai bal manda - adoption ceremony

Ad'ika - little one, daughter, son

Buir - parent

Jetii - Jedi

Vod - sibling

Ad - son/daughter

Riduur - spouse

Copikla adiik - cute child/kid

Vod'ika - little sibling

[evilisk]

Reading Len’En Profiles Pt 3

We’re rounding off the cast of EMS by looking at the “Yachie-length”* profiles of Sukune and the Snakes.

(*No seriously, these profiles are frigging big)

= = =

So the three upcoming profiles don’t just give us details about each individual character. The information between the three characters give us a complete backstory to the events of Earthen Miraculous Sword. This backstory can be summarized as:

In Len’En’s version of the Orochi myth, Orochi’s corpse lead to the birth of 7 Adagumo Siblings (with Yaorochi being the sword wielding arm of Orochi, and Saragimaru being one of their Eyes).

Though they were born from Orochi’s corpse and vowed revenge on those that killed them, Yaorochi only really had eyes for the sword stolen from them, the Kusanagi / Tasouken. Their obsession with Tasouken even lead to them attacking Saragimaru at some point.

Yaorochi went after the Tasouken when it was lost at sea during, what I think is, the Len’En version of the Tale of Genji (I’m only vaguely familiar with the Tale of Genji between the Warriors Orochi and Genji series of games, so I might be wrong on this). Saragimaru waited for their return by the shore while the remaining Adagumo siblings perished without completing their revenge.

Yaorochi returned with Tasouken, but it was completely rusted at this point. Saragimaru witnessed this return, but Yaorochi did not seem to be aware of who they were (it is mentioned in Saragimaru’s profile that they did not get to reveal themselves as family to Yaorochi, which means they certainly met at one point).

For a time it seemed that Yaorochi had been lifted from their obsession with the blade. Then Yaorochi vanishes. There’s a big timeskip between the next “meeting” of Saragimaru and Yaorochi. Yaorochi begins to fall into a type of depression.

Saragimaru eventually notices Yaorochi in Mugenri. They realize that Yaorochi has become hollow due to the state of the sword. They become sickened by this, as they fear Yaorochi’s obsession with Tasouken, as well as Tasouken’s true power, but they cannot bring back the “true” Yaorochi without reviving Tasouken.

Saragimaru commissions Sukune to create the clay replica, but they don’t pick up the completed sword. Despite this, Yaorochi eventually runs into Sukune and notices the blade.

Yaorochi lies to Sukune, pretending to be a holy servant who can make Sukune’s works complete (there’s this whole bit about crafting and divine spirits in Sukune’s profile that you can check out on your own). They plan the ritual to transfer the power of Tasouken into the clay replica.

The story ends at “designated protagonist breaking into the ritual chamber, about to confront Yaoorchi”

As for my personal thoughts on this backstory... this backstory is so sad :/ It’s also really compelling. But it’s just really sad T_T, like will somebody please give Saragimaru a hug?? They have been through so much.

Before I go on, I should mention that Tasouken, the secret boss of Stage 6, also has a profile, though I don’t feel like talking about it as Tasouken isn’t really a character. The most relevant info here is that Tasouken apparently can’t be wielded by humans. This basically confirms that Orochi was a youkai (this was not clear just from Yaorochi’s profile) which his leads me to wonder if Saragimaru’s dislike of humans comes from Orochi’s death by trickery...

Anyway, onto the character relevant parts of each profile. 

= = =

Stage 5 Boss - Sukune Katano

Original Opinion: I can’t lie here, I kind of knew about Sukune before my deep dive into this series. Ages ago, I watched a video of Earthen Miraculous Sword (I think it was probably Jaimers’ clear of the game). The bosses didn’t really impress me at the time... up until I got to Sukune’s fight. Sukune’s fight kind of blew me away. It’s hard not to be impressed by like, giant Haniwa and Haniwa artilleries. Their fight also helped me *get* what Len’En’s aesthetic is meant to be (it’s drab and low technology af)

When I finally got the chance to fight them for myself, I was just as impressed as the first time I saw them in action, though Sukune’s personality didn’t seem very appealing (again, I don’t like ditzy characters). Now that I’ve gone through and recorded all their conversations for my side-blog, and have also played RMI, I think I can say I honestly like Sukune. When I get to making a “Top Len’En Characters” post, I’ll probably go into more detail there, but all you need to know is Sukune is a character that’s interesting in their first appearance and only gets more interesting the further you get into the series.

Thoughts on their profile: 

Most of their profile is lore about how divine spirits work and that’s whatever. I mean, I get why it’s there. It’s to explain the backstory and how Yaorochi’s plot works. I just don’t have any meaningful commentary about it.

When the profile mentioned how Sukune feels most of their works are incomplete failures, I really felt that. Also, now I can’t help but feel Kuroji is kind of a jerk for dismissing their works.

Though I also feel bad about Sukune being tricked by Yaorochi too.

Sukune loving to open sake bottles but not actually liking to drink alcohol is the funniest thing.

New Opinion: I don’t think my opinion has changed of them, but they’re still really, really cool and I’m so glad that they became one of the series’ recurring player characters

= = =

Stage 6 Boss - Adagumo no Yaorochi

Original Opinion: I didn’t really care for Yaorochi in EMS. I felt they were outshone by every other boss (in terms of personality and musical theme), though their fight was still kind of fun. RMI made me like them a bit more between their powerful shot type, their cool Team theme and their depiction in their route. They give off a really strong “why did I leave my house, I should have just stayed indoors with Tasouken” and it is honestly hilarious. 

Basically, EMS Yaorochi is a cheesy, boring villain, while RMI Yaorochi is more like a single-minded, anti-social dork who immediately regrets trying to get out of their comfort zone

Thoughts on their profile: 

Yaorochi still seems like a massive dork, but the bit about them basically having had depression makes them so much more relatable now.

I think the strange “love triangle” going on between Yaorochi, Tasouken and Saragimaru is fascinating. Saragimaru cares for Yaorochi, Yaorochi only cares for Tasouken, and Tasouken’s full potential can seemingly only be used by Saragimaru, but Saragimaru has no interest in anything other than Yaorochi’s happiness. It’s just all so interesting. It’s just a shame that Yaorochi is the least interesting character in this dynamic, since they know absolutely nothing about what’s going on.

I’m glad that Yaorochi is at least mentioned as feeling bad for tricking Sukune, though I’m not sure how I feel about Yaorochi and Sukune still being a thing in RMI.

New Opinion: While I like Yaorochi a bit more, I still think I’d have to rank them low on the EMS cast. No offense to Yaorochi at all, but someone’s gotta be last, and if I have to choose between Sluggo and Snek being in that spot, well...

= = =

Stage EX Boss - Adagumo no Saragimaru

Original Opinion: I also felt Saragimaru was a little underwhelming in EMS, though I still ended up liking them over their sibling for their design and their amazing boss theme. RMI made it easier to like them since they got partnered with my favourite MC and gave them hilarious banter with them. I wouldn’t put them over Sukune or Hibaru, but I’d say they’re comfortably tied with Lumen and Jun for third. In all, I like ‘em for the fun banter and the dorky Youmu-esque vibes I get from them.

Thoughts on their profile: 

Somebody please give this snek a hug, they have been through so much T_T

More seriously, the whole “can’t seem to approach Yaorochi” thing explains why Saragimaru acts like such a weirdo when you encounter them in RMI as Yaorochi

As I mentioned before, the whole Yaorochi -> Tasouken -> Saragimaru -> Yaorochi triangle is just so fascinating. It’s rather interesting that Saragimaru can theoretically use Tasouken to its full potential (wait, is it “can” is it “could have”, now that Tasouken is a bottle opener)

I just realized that Yaorochi/Saragimaru is the Koishi/Satori and Flandre/Remilia dynamic but more compelling. 

Wait, this weird “unappreciated sibling” dynamic is why they got paired up with Kuroji isn’t it? That pairing makes so much more sense now.

New Opinion: Yeah okay, I think after reading through their profile, Saragimaru is easily my third favourite Earthen Miraculous Sword character. It’s a bit unfair to Lumen and Jun as they’re side characters that get much smaller profiles, but Saragimaru is so incredibly interesting to me now.

= = =

Final Thoughts

I am actually really impressed with JynX’s writing in this game. Evanescent Existence’s story and characters didn’t really impress me, even if it was conceptually very interesting. Earthen Miraculous Sword was not only an immediate improvement (since one of my favourite characters is a flippin’ Stage 1 Boss) but I actually feel that the writing is on par with the Touhou series. And I’m not one of those people that dismisses the writing in Touhou either; the whole Tasouken / Saragimaru / Yaorochi backstory and dynamic is easily as compelling as Touhou’s best. 

If there’s one thing I take issue with, it’s that all the best writing in this game is confined to the profiles rather than the in-game banter... even that’s not a huge issue to me since it’s an issue that could just as easily be said of the official Touhou games (the shooters at least). 

= = =

Ranking the EMS Cast:

Hibaru Kokutenshi

Sukune Katano

Adagumo no Saragimaru

Jun Amanomiya / Lumen Celeritas

Shou Amanomori

Adagumo no Yaorochi

[marvel-lous-things]

Frost Giants and Frozen Things

Words: <3k

Pairing: nothing romantic. Irondad. Accidental and unwilling Loki + Peter friendship. Thor being an annoying older brother. Pepperony and Thruce mention, because I am trash and couldn’t help myself.

Description: Loki doesn't want to watch a stupid movie made for midgardian children. Peter thinks he should. Especially because the movie in question involves ice, siblings and a happy ending. And some kick ass songs, damn what the critics say.

A/N: Welp. As promised. A 12:00 am idea brought to life. Hope ya’ll like :D

I spent three hours on this sksjksjs

#############################

When you get to be about 1500 years old, there isn't really much you can say you haven't done.

Take Loki, for instance.

If one were to ask the right people, one would receive (in frightening detail) about 3 million different anecdotes of Loki doing things that nobody in their right mind would ever do. Ever. Never ever. Even if they were paid for it.

But Loki had done these things, and oftentimes, for free.

A certain endeavour with a horse comes to mind. And one with offending the dwarfs. And dressing Thor up as a bride to get his hammer back. And- well, you get the idea.

And yet, while it would be easier to list the things he hasn't done than things he has, watching a Disney movie (surprisingly) landed on the former list...

...A goddamn travesty that one plucky kid from Queens intended to fix as soon as possible.

Which is why Loki found a very excited Peter Parker stuck to the outside of his bedroom window, one fine Sunday afternoon. And drew the curtains immediately over his face, much to the teenager's chagrin.

Peter, however, was not one to give up easily. And so began the insistent knocking on the window. And the subsequent yelling.

"MR LOKI SIR?"

Damn it.

"I WAS WONDERING IF YOU'D WANT TO WATCH A MOVIE WITH ME."

Ignore him, Loki told himself, ignore him and he'll go aw-

"I KNOW YOU'RE STILL THERE."

Damn it. He wasn't going to go away upon being ignored. Loki tried another approach.

"Leave, Parker, before I tell Stark about your algebra test."

"My what?"

"Your algebra test."

"I got 99% on it? And I told him already?"

Oh.

"Your chemistry test?"

"96%"

"Physics?"

"100%"

"Geometry?"

"92%"

"Trigonometry?"

"97%"

And that was the end of the list of all the subjects Tony cared about. Peter could've failed in the others and Tony would laugh and buy him ice cream to cheer him up. Tony had gotten into trouble with May, once, when he let Peter stay over time as a reward for getting 69% on his German test. So Loki threatening Peter about his other scores was pointless.

God damn it. Why was this kid so smart.

"I'm not interested. Go. Away."

Peter didn't go away.

"I THINK YOU'LL REALLY LIKE THIS ONE, SIR. IT'S A STORY OF TREACHERY, LOVE, AND SECOND CHANCES."

That caught Loki's attention, for a few seconds anyway. "Treachery, you say?"

Treachery was always fun.

"YEAH. ALSO THE MAIN CHARACTER IS REALLY COOL. I MEAN LITERALLY. SHE HAS ICE POWERS. AND SHE-"

The curtains opened suddenly, startling Peter enough for him to nearly lose footing and fall. Loki was disappointed that he didn't.

"Ice powers?"

"YEAH!" Peter was getting more and more shrill by the second. "SHE'S BASICALLY FORCED TO HIDE THEM ALL HER LIFE UNTIL ONE DAY THEY JUST COME OUT AGAINST HER WILL AND-"

That piqued the trickster God's attention. "Was she, by any chance, adopted?"

"WELL IT ISN'T MENTIONED EXPLICITLY BUT I THINK SHE WAS ‘CAUSE-"

"You don't have to yell."

"-Because her parents and her sister have brown hair but she's blonde! Also she's the only one in the family who can do magic! Mr Stark says I'm reading too much into a movie for kids. But I think there's a lot of subtext in there."

Loki raised a well groomed eyebrow, staring at Peter in careful deliberation. The plot of the movie being described to him hit closer to home than he would like to admit. Was it possible that it was, somehow, based off of him?

Of course, It was highly unlikely that humans would celebrate the life of someone who tried to enslave them by creating a motion picture in his honour.

But then again, humans were stupid.

He didn't realise he'd been staring too long (and too intensely) until he heard Peter clear his throat nervously.

"I really think you'd enjoy it. But if you don't want to-"

"No." Loki said definitively.

He watched as Peter's face fell, triggering the slightest hint of guilt in him. But he wasn't going to waste a few hours watching something that he doubted he would even like, when he could spend it on practicing his skills with a knife instead. It had been a while since he'd stabbed Thor. Loki didn't want to lose touch.

He closed the curtains once more, and began to walk away. Peter, however, gave one last, valiant effort towards his cause.

"The songs are great too, you know"

What the hell?

The kid was as stubborn as his father (Tony insisted he was simply Peter’s mentor, but he'd seen the way Tony looked at the kid).

"You're still here?"

Peter marched on, unperturbed. "They're deep. I especially like this one song about letting go of your past?" He cocked his head to the side, trying to peer through the small slit in between the two pieces of fabric shielding the room from his vision.

"It's about how she lived in fear and anger but finally managed to leave it all behind her. I thought you would appreciate that, Mr Loki."

Loki would, actually. He had been, after all, shunned by almost everyone for being different during his childhood. For not being the strong, valiant prince everyone expected him to be. Because he’d found comfort in magic and books, rather than in swords and armour, unlike his beefy blonde counterpart. 

But a watching a kid's movie? With this little twerp, no less?

Thor would ensure that Loki would never hear the end of it. But then again, when was the last time Loki let Thor's opinion stop him from doing anything at all?

"All right," Loki sighed, pretending to act defeated rather than interested, "I'll watch it if you'll get off my back."

"AWESOME!"

"I suppose so. Now go home."

Silence followed. Until Peter spoke again.

"Actually, I was hoping you would let me in?"

Loki groaned. "What now?"

"I'm sorry sir, I just left my homework in Mr Stark's workshop. Three days ago. And it was due yesterday. May will kill me if I don't submit it tomorrow, so if I could just go get it-"

"Then perish."

"Okay, that was absolutely perfect, and I wish I'd caught that on camera but I've really gotta-"

The window suddenly opened inwards, causing Peter to land facedown on the floor with a soft "ow". Loki hid the smirk that momentarily flitted across his face, and watched in amusement as the kid stammered over an apology and quite literally ran towards the workshop.

He hoped for Peter's sake that the movie would be good.

#############################

Monday, 6:00 pm.

After giving Peter’s words some careful thought, Loki actually found himself looking forward to watching the movie, unwilling as he was to admit it. And besides, even if he did admit it for some godforsaken reason, no one would actually believe him. Loki “I would rather spend time with a horse than you” Odinson, spending time with anyone, let alone Peter Parker, was unheard of.

Elsewhere, Tony was having trouble believing this exact thing.

“It’s okay, Pete,” Tony sighed, the sound very obviously exaggerated, “I understand if you don’t want to spend time with me. Just don’t lie about the reason.” 

Tony, however, sounded so unbearably dejected that Peter nearly burst into tears then and there. Tony had just been trying to get a rise out of Peter. Unfortunately, he’d been a little too successful.

“BUT MR STARK I LOVE SPENDING TIME WITH YOU, I SWEAR I JUST-“

“okay.”

“ HE’S NEVER WATCHED A DISNEY MOVIE BEFORE SO I THOUGHT-“

“uh-huh?”

“HE WAS MISSING OUT ON SO MUCH, I JUST-“

“Relax, I’m just messing with you. Go on your date with MJ or Ned or whoever the lucky kid is. I promise I won’t tell May,” He winked.

“I’M NOT HIDING A DATE! LOKI REALLY WANTED TO WATCH-“

“If it’s all the same to you,” came a very annoyed voice from the doorway of the workshop, “shall we commence our movie session? Or may I retreat to my chambers?”

Loki stood there, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, glaring at the red-faced teenager and the rather surprised man standing next to him.  He watched as Peter slowly turned to tony, triumph written all over his boyish face. Loki rolled his eyes.

“I mean, if you’d rather continue yelling at your father, I could just-“

“He isn’t my son-“

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” He turned to Peter. “well?”

Peter nodded hastily, immediately running up the stairs, towards the living room.

Tony just stared after him in confusion. He still wasn’t sure what exactly he should be believing. On one hand, Loki himself seemed to be admitting that he was going to watch a Disney movie with Peter, but on the other hand,

Loki? Disney movie? What?

The only time those words could possibly go together was if Loki stabbed someone with a shard of the lion king DVD tony had lying around somewhere. Or something to that effect.

His internal war, however, was cut short by Loki turning on his heel. “I suppose I’ll be borrowing him for about two hours” he said, with an (attempted) air of mild contempt. Just before he disappeared up the stairs, however, Tony caught the unmistakable hint of a smile playing on the god’s lips.

Which, of course, just left the genius more confused than ever.

#############################

Loki did have to admit that the premise was more interesting than he’d expected. 

The humour was childish at best, but considering the fact that Peter seemed to very nearly choke on his popcorn every time they made a sad attempt at a joke, he decided to hold his scathing remarks back.

For now.

But apart from that, the plot was far too familiar for comfort. He had been reliably informed that the movie was not, in fact, about him (which nearly made him change his mind about watching it). And yet, here he was, the beginnings of tears building up in his eyes. The last time he’d felt such emotion was while watching a play based off his own supposed death. Thor hadn’t really appreciated it, though.

He let his mind wander a little, reminiscing on the plays he and Thor had watched as a child, recreating them in the comfort of their own home when they were left alone, with nothing to do. when they grew up, however, Loki started spending lesser and lesser time with his brother. he wondered if Thor felt the same way the younger sister in the movie- Anna, was it?- did. Hoping in vain for his brother to come out and talk to him.

He turned his attention back to the unnecessarily large TV screen when it showed the younger princess- Anna, he reminded himself again- agree to marry a man she’d just met.

“Well then,” Loki shook his head disapprovingly, “she and Thor would get along, wouldn’t they?.”

Peter knew that Loki was probably referring to Thor and Jane’s whirlwind romance, but he didn’t say anything. Heimdall could be watching. And while Bruce and Thor seemed to be very happy together, he wouldn’t take kindly to Peter dissing his former paramour. And the last thing Peter wanted was to get Thor mad.

The odd pair sat in silence, Loki giving each and every word uttered on screen a lot more thought than anyone would have deemed necessary. He hung on to every scene, every second of music, all of it gluing him to his seat. Peter excused himself to go to the bathroom at one point. Loki simply scoffed at the inefficiency of human bladders, and didn’t bother to budge until Peter came back from his short break with a refill of popcorn.

And then came the song Peter had no doubt been waiting for. Loki could tell Peter loved it because he began singing along, albeit agonisingly off-key. Loki rolled his eyes in second hand embarrassment, but again. Didn’t say anything. He liked to think that his mother would have been proud. Childish as that sounded.

Eventually, Loki began humming along too. Except less off-key, of course. He couldn’t help it. Replace a few words of the song with his own, and it could very well have been about him. Also, it was catchier than he would like to admit.

Just then, Loki heard the sound of approaching footsteps, stopping somewhere in the room. Loki frowned a little. The only reason anyone would stop would be to either talk to him or Peter, both of which annoyed him. He didn’t want pointless conversations interrupting his entertainment. If he wanted that, he would’ve just watched the movie with Thor.

“Having fun?” came a feminine voice from behind the sofa.

Loki didn’t bother to turn around. Whoever it was could wait.

He only recognised the voice as Pepper’s when he saw her ring-adorned hand affectionately ruffle Peter’s hair.

“Yes, miss Potts.” Peter smiled, not turning around either. He seemed to somewhat agree with Loki about interruptions, but was too polite to ignore Pepper.

“May dropped off some cupcakes for you, but I accidentally left them in Mr Stark’s workshop, so I would hurry if I were you.”

Pepper sighed, thanking him as she left the room, her footsteps echoing crisply on the marble floor.

Only then did Loki turn away from the screen, his eyes landing on Peter. He marveled at how the kid seemed to be comfortable with everyone around him. Of all the people who came by the tower- Steve, Bucky, The bird guys, Black widow, hell, even the pizza delivery guys- all seemed to enjoy being around Peter. Loki noted, with some jealousy, that Thor enjoyed the kid’s company more than his own. He would never tell Thor that, though.

In all honesty, Peter seemed to have simply walked out of a Disney movie himself.

Loki felt a keen twinge of regret that he’d become estranged from his family until it was too late to rectify it. He pushed the thoughts away, however, choosing to not deal with them at the moment (or any moment, for that matter). He had a plot to follow.

And that he did, just as closely as ever, until the treachery Peter had mentioned occurred.

And when it did? For the first time in years, Loki, calm, eloquent Loki, stood up and screamed at the top of his voice.

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

Peter was startled, although he completely understood Loki's reaction.

“Mr Loki please sit dow-“

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?

“I know, I hate Hans too, but please si-“

“HE SAID “IF ONLY THERE WAS SOMEONE OUT THERE WHO LOVED YOU”? THAT’S THE WORST FUCKING PLOT TWIST I’VE EVER SEEN.”

“I agree, but-“

“DOES HE DIE IN THE END? DOES HE FUCKING DIE IN THE END?”

Peter didn’t reply. He wasn’t about to spoil it, oh no. He didn’t put all that effort into getting the arrogant god to sit down and watch this with him only to spoil the ending. And no doubt have him leave before watching the whole thing.

“You’ll find out” Peter smiled innocently.

Which, of course, only made Loki want to choke the answer out of him.

He quelled his urges, however, and sat down, heaving a sigh of relief when the character with the unfortunate sideburns (Loki refused to address the bastard by name) did in fact die, and all was set right. 

Loki got the happy ending he was promised.

He also got tissues for Peter, because the kid wouldn’t stop bawling his eyes out, no matter how many times Loki threatened to strangle him until he stopped. Sure, the ending left Loki’s eyes a little misty as well, but this?

Loki awkwardly left him there on the sofa, hoping someone would else would find and deal with the sobbing mess of a teenager instead.

He had other things to do. Like look up more movies to watch.

#############################

 “So, brother, I heard you spent some time with Stark’s son?” Thor said, amusement (and chocolate syrup) plastered across his face.

“He isn’t my s- why do I even bother?” Tony sighed, tossing Thor a washcloth to wipe the sticky mess off his majestic beard. Someone really ought to teach him to not drink the syrup from the bottle.

“That, Stark, I do not know.” He grinned, turning his attention back to his irritated brother.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

Thor rolled his eyes. Loki could be so difficult sometimes. 

“The movie, dear brother! Did you like it? I know I did!”

“He pestered you into watching it too?”

“Pester me? Of course not! I’d seen posters of it the last time I’d come to earth, so I asked him about it, and we decided to watch it together.” Thor shrugged, like it was obvious. He omitted the part where Peter nearly tackled him to the ground in a hug.

“Peter told me you liked it. And I think you would have too, considering…” he gestured vaguely towards Loki's…entire body.

Loki frowned, “Considering what?”

Thor fidgeted with his mug of hot chocolate. “Don’t be daft, brother. You know what I’m talking about”

“No, really, I don’t”

Thor was getting more uncomfortable by the second. Loki reveled in it.

“No, I just- I thought you’d relate to her- her struggles, and- The ice-“ Thor stammered, before Loki put up an impatient hand.

“I was joking. And yes, the movie was…tolerable” Loki lied through his teeth. He’d absolutely loved it, but the day Thor finds that out is the day Loki stabs him in the face. Again.

“Just tolerable?” Thor yelled, incredulous. “That movie is the best damn thing I’ve watched in years! Way better than your stupid little overly dramatic plays! I knew you were haughty, brother, but to this extent-”

His voice got even louder, prompting Tony to awkwardly scurry out of the kitchen, 50th coffee cup in hand.

“If you don’t take your words back right now, Loki, I SWEAR TO VALHALLA-“

Loki cringed. “Okay! Fine! I liked it! There, you happy?”

Thor beamed, taking a big swig of his hot chocolate. “Absolutely.”

“Good,” Loki smirked in response,

“Now let it go”

  #############################

Somewhere in the vents, an excited squeak came from the boy who’d heard the obvious Frozen reference.

He pulled out a crumpled list titled “People who haven’t watched frozen” and a badly chewed pen from his pocket, crossing out Loki's name with a smile on his face.

Up next, Anthony Edward Stark.

#############################

A/N part 2: HELLO!! THANKS FOR READING IT THROUGH!!! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME!

tag list: @roanoaks @thefandomforme @shattered-shadows @queenofalotofdifferentworlds @advocateofathena @satans-poptarts @uselesspileofstressandsadness @melodielgrace @victoritris @marvelficwriter

“Hello You’re My Friends And If You Could Validate Me That Would Be Great Thanks” tag list: @spoopy-marvel-bean @marvel-or-not-to-marvel @gumgamug @cosmic-disasters @spiderboiii @windexnoises @animewhispersdreamland @anxieteaandbiscuits @persepumpkin @my-babies-are-ash @dexpoolb @anoptimisticdevil @asaelia

[oumakokichi]

When is it revealed that DICE is actually a real group that Ouma lead? Unless I missed something during live translation streams, in Ouma's motive video DICE is described as a group of talented criminals that went all over the world committing "funny" crimes with a creed of no murder. I don't recall anyone saying anything about this group actually existing outside of Ouma's TDR implanted memories. Could you clarify this? Thank you!

Thank you both for asking these! Considering how late in thegame the reveal comes, the information about DICE is still really fuzzy, andnow that I’ve picked back over all of Chapter 6 very carefully, I’m happy to beable to clear more stuff up about them!

As far as pre-game backstories go, neither DICE nor anyoneelse’s loved ones are confirmed to have existed or not existed! DICE is confirmedin Chapter 6 to be the real “organization” of which Ouma is the leader in-game.Rather than any super secret evil organization with 10,000 members, theyconsist of just 10, counting Ouma himself, and they run around committing “funny”or “laughable” crimes while their main motto is “we don’t kill anyone.”

Of course, just because their confirmation is limited toOuma’s in-game backstory doesn’t necessarily negate their importance. Both fromOuma’s motive video and from bits and pieces of Ouma’s dialogue throughout theplot and in his FTEs, we can kind of piece together and assume that he clearly “remembers”these people, but that he also considers them essentially dead and gone.

Whether it’s because they’re all dead and gone according towhat he “remembers” from his in-game backstory, or because he clearly knows thathis own memories have been tampered with and therefore will not allow himselfto think about these people as real, because having that kind of motive to killand get out of the school is exactly what the mastermind wants from them all,he won’t allow himself to think of them as potentially okay and alive. Thereare plenty of times at which Ouma alludes to having “no one who would be sad ifhe died,” and when Saihara questions him in his FTEs about if his organizationsubordinates will come rescue them, Ouma dodges the subject by saying hissubordinates are probably just “happy that he’s gone.”

And yet despite thinking of these people as either dead andgone if they really do exist, or else potentially having never existed in thefirst place, Ouma keeps his own motive video there in his room. If he’d trulywanted to discard of it, he could’ve just let Monokuma dispose of it the way mostof the other evidence is disposed of after each case. No one would have it, sono one else would be able to find out any vital or important information aboutOuma himself. If he truly thought it worthless or lacking in clues to his realidentity or pre-game backstory, I don’t think he would have kept it around.

Precisely because his memories (all of their memories,really) are so horrifically jumbled and messed up, and because he realizes theimplications of having nothing at all that he can trust or hold onto in asituation where he knows reality is very subjective and transient, I think hekept that video for something to connect with. DICE, according to that video,were his everything. They were hisvery best friends, “as close as family” to him, and I think Ouma himself wassmart enough to know that whether that attachment was real or implanted, it wassomething he wanted to hold onto, which is precisely why he clings to theirno-kill motto so much and so desperately as the one real pillar of support in anotherwise horrible situation that requires him to do horrible things. And it’swhy he becomes so jaded and tired and bitter when he has to break even thatparticular rule.

I’ve talked before in recent Tsumugi meta that I’ve writtentoo, but while there’s certainly no direct confirmation, I personally thinkthere are a lot of indications that Tsumugi was lying hardcore about all of thecharacters having “nowhere to go back to.” The easiest lies to make are oneswith some truth mixed in, after all. By trying to destroy any hopes that theyhad something to rely on even though their backstories and talents were fake,she was trying to make them submit to being in the killing game, and to theidea that the killing game was something that would keep continuing forever.

Just from little bits and pieces we can glimpse of the othercharacters, there’s nothing that really confirms their loved ones that theyremember didn’t exist pre-game in some way or another. While I’m sure theirbackstories were altered and catered specifically to the talents they weregiven, there are still things that stand out to me.

One is Amami’s particularly protective personality, whichstems from his in-game backstory being about how he’s an older brother toseveral siblings. He nails the onii-chan vibe, and tries to take the burden onhimself for nearly everything. One of his bonus mode interactions with Mukuroinvolves her commenting that he has a “little sister waiting for him to comehome,” and the two of them seem very capable of bonding over siblings. Being anelder sibling is vital to his character—and it seems to mesh perfectly wellwith his previous killing game history too, considering he chose to sacrificehimself for the sake of “hope,” and was thrown into another killing game aspunishment so that two survivors could go on and graduate.

If everyone’s siblings or loved ones truly didn’t existpre-game, I don’t see the need for foreshadowing these things, or keepingcharacterization consistent with a character between one killing game and thenext. Even the bonus modes wouldn’t need to mention anything about thesecharacters’ histories or loves ones, if they were all truly irrelevant—and yetthey do, and I think it’s very specifically for the sake of giving additionalclues.

A smaller and less important thing I found worth noting wasKorekiyo’s mask in the prologue. Pre-game Korekiyo can very clearly be seenwearing the same kind of medical mask worn commonly in Japan whenever there’s aparticularly bad virus or cold outbreak. It’s a very common Japanese trend andanyone who’s watched a lot of 90s anime has probably seen it at some point or other:these masks are worn everywhere because people believe that it will lower therisk of contagion.

Korekiyo wearing this sort of mask on its own means nothing,of course, but considering what little we do know from his in-game backstory about having taken care of his sister for a longtime, before she passed away due to poor health… Well, it’s just my theory butI think it would make a lot of sense if Korekiyo had had a sister in real lifewho perhaps either did pass away or was simply sick (maybe even from the samevirus Momota is implied to have), and if he was wearing that mask preciselybecause he was so afraid of the effects of it spreading, even if he and theothers were supposed to be immune to it.

I feel like it’s exactly the same with DICE. Ouma’s faketalent is SHSL Supreme Leader, and his intended role in the game as written byTsumugi was essentially as SHSL Despair, taking on the role of a “Junkosuccessor.” And as I’ve stated before, I’m pretty sure SHSL Chessmaster wouldfit as his real talent, considering everything we know about him. But none of these talents, at all, accountsfor his prankster-like disposition and absolute love of stupid, silly tricks,unless it was just something innate to him and unaffected by his in-gamebackstory. And if DICE were some kind of equivalent to a real-life group offriends he had, and who he ran around trying to pull pranks with and avoiding gettinganyone hurt or killed, I think it would make quite a lot of sense.

Even in Ouma’s lab, where we can see the “criminal”organization set-up and the whole thing has a distinctly supervillain/Batcavesort of feeling to it, Saihara can’t help but comment upon examining some ofthe things in the room that it all feels rather like a kid playing pretend,rather than anyone even remotely malicious or evil. In addition to a hilariouslyridiculous Batmobile ripoff car, a working remote control helicopter, and afloating throne chair, Ouma’s lab ischock full of prank set-ups, including fake moustaches and prank glasses,walkie talkies, stupid wigs, clown masks, etc.

These things are all clearly associated with DICE, eventhough we don’t know much about what it was they did. But considering each andevery item associated with them is so based in pranks, and lighthearted fun, andconsidering they were limited to a group of 10 people, mostly kids judging byappearance, we can assume they were…well, harmless. The phrase used todescribe their crimes in Ouma’s motive video limits it to “funny” or “interesting”crimes/pranks, so we can assume they did pretty much anything harmless at all,whether it was stealing or putting on a show.

Whether DICE or any of the other characters’ loved ones didexist pre-game or not, and if they did exist, whether they’re alive or dead, issomething that’s currently in the catbox until Kodaka decides to give us sidematerials or a sequel. It’s all up to speculation—but precisely because we can’tdo much else other than speculate, I feel like it’s important to look at allthe possible clues and indicators.

If the motive videos and everyone’s memories of their timebefore the killing game were actually completely irrelevant to figuring out thereal truth of things, I don’t think they would have been included at all, inthe same way I don’t think Ouma himself would’ve clung to the information assomething to study and something to hold onto about himself.

Finally, something else I found of note was that when theother characters in Chapter 6 start asking Tsumugi to “put them back” using theremember lights, she says this can’tbe done. Remember lights can, according to her own words, only implantmemories, backstories, etc., not overwrite you into an entirely differentperson. Therefore, she says it’s impossible to make them “who they were before,”and that any attempts to add new memories would only be “adding more fiction.”

And yet, I feel this directly, noticeably contrasts withwhat she was just saying about all of their memories, even the ones unrelatedto their talents or the killing game, being fake. If remember lights can’t makethem into entirely different people, but only give them fictional addendums andbackstories, then how is it that their fictional personas currently are “entirelydifferent” from the people they were before, to the point that Tsumugi says “thosepeople no longer exist”? The only reasonable explanation I’ve found is thatTsumugi was lying, because she knew it would crush them.

In any case, DICE will probably remain a mystery untilKodaka decides to expand on them. I’d personally love to see more of them. Whenpeople first saw Ouma as a character, I don’t think “literal prank-loving clownwith a 12-year-old’s sense of humor” was anyone’s guess for what his realpersonality would be like, but the reveal was quite nice, and I’m very set ontheorizing that DICE has some kind of real-life importance to him in the sameway I think most of the characters’ loved ones and families must have some kindof real-life importance. It’s much harder, however, to know if they’re actuallyokay or not, the same way it was impossible to know about if the dr1 characters’loved ones were alive or not prior to drae giving some confirmation.

Again, thank you both for asking! I’m glad if I was able toclear things up at all!