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trouble-off-grid · 3 years ago

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Keep you safe

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CW: Blood, death

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When Techno had awoken he was not surprised to find himself alone in his cave. Tommy has always been prone to adventure, often leaving early to explore their surrounding area. So seeing the little figure no longer on his chest when Techno awoke didn’t shock him. He trusted his pseudo-brother not to get into too much trouble, at least not this early in the morning.

Unfortunately for him Tommy had never been very good at staying out of trouble. He was out in their surrounding territory, making his way over to the fresh river he knew was nearby. He had always loved the river and would often force Techno to take him as nearby animals would find their way there for water and Tommy was able to gaze at them as they did so. It seemed the river was always at peace and Tommy wasted no time in throwing his body onto a large rock and bathed in the sun. Closing his eyes he let himself get lost in the peaceful sounds of the river and nearby animals.

It was this that presented him with the first sign of something being wrong. It seemed a hush had fallen over the forest as even the birds seemed to silence. Tommy sat up with a frown, stilling as he scanned the forest edge for any potential threats. Not immediately spotting anything he slid off the rock and slowly creeped into the forest careful to keep his footsteps light as he did so.

The further he went he almost convinced himself nothing was wrong and that he could just return and brag to Techno about how brave he was making sure nothing was wrong within the forest. To his left he heard noise loud enough to snap him out of his thoughts, head snapping towards the area. He debated going close as it seemed the noise was coming from the edge of Technos territory and the elder never liked when Tommy got too close to the edge without him there for protection.

Steeling his nerves he turned away from the direction he knew would lead to home and made his way towards the noise. A grin stretched over his face as he figured Techno wouldn’t be upset if he never knew what Tommy was about to do. With his mind made up he trekked through the foliage with ease keeping his footfalls silent as he did so as the noise became loud enough to decipher what it was.

What first appeared as nothing more than indecipherable sound soon turned into words. Tommy felt himself freeze as his brain processed what he was hearing, humans. Now it might seem hypocritical of Tommy to dislike humans when he himself was one but despite being the same race he had never found a comfort in them that he did with Techno. The giant piglin had shown Tommy what family truly was supposed to be and gave him a chance when no one else would even spare a second glance at the boy.

So hearing humans in front of him only served to sour his mood as he approached them to get a better idea of what exactly he was dealing with. The logical part of his brain that sounded suspiciously like Techno told him to just return home and let Techno deal with these strangers. He snuffed out that thought quickly, Tommy was a big man and he didn’t need to bother Techno when he was already here and was just as capable of getting the humans to leave.

Finally, he was right in front of the group, being careful to stay out of sight as he glanced at them. The first thing he noticed was that it was a decently sized group, with more people than he would have originally thought. The second was that they had a decent amount of weapons on them. Now he’d like to believe they were just normal hunters who unknowingly entered a piglins territory but the give away was the shiny armor they all had displayed. Each member seemed to be done up in a fancy display of armour only leaving their helmets off.

There was no denying, these were kings guards, and they weren’t just hunting for animals, they were hunting Techno. The king believed Techno to be no more than a mindless beast when that couldn’t be further from the truth, it was always the knights who attacked first while Techno was just defending what he cared about. It was time Tommy returned the favor.

He glared at the knight who was currently sharpening his blade, he couldn't just sit by and let this happen. Tommy stood from behind his cover and started walking towards them making sure they could hear him approaching. As soon as the group took notice they stood on guard and Tommy had to stop himself from breaking his calm facade as they pointed their weapons at him. “Fellas, fellas, no need for that, we're all friends here,” He put both hands up trying to show he meant no harm.

“What is a kid like you doing out here?” What looked to be the head knight spoke out.

Not going into this with a plan besides trying to get them to leave he felt his palms start to sweat as he spouted out the first thing he could think of, “I want to be like you! A knight, I mean,” he clarified.

Chuckles broke throughout the group, the same guard as before tried to muffle his laughter yet amusement remained clear on his face, “You? A knight? You’re nothing more than a scrawny little kid”

Blood rushed to Tommy's cheeks at the jeering, even though he was lying it still hurt to be laughed at. The guard didn’t even know how hard Techno and him worked to get some meat on his bones, if he thought he was little now he should have seen Tommy before he met Techno. Faced with humiliation Tommy resorted to what he always did when embarrassed, yelling, “I could be a knight! I’m the biggest man there is and could beat anyone in a fight!”

The man's eyes seemed to glow as he sneered, “Is that so?” He seemed to lean in closer as he said the next words, “Even the blood god?” It seemed all laughter had stopped at just the mention of the infamous name, of course he was referring to Techno but Tommy was one of the few who knew his real name.

Keeping up the facade a smirk grew on his face as he answered, “Please, even the blood god is scared of me, it's why he doesn’t go in this area”

The tension seemed to leave the air as it was replaced by amusement, “And how would you know that, hmm?”

Tommy had to restrain from rolling his eyes at the question, reminding himself that the goal was to get the knights to leave, “All of this area is mine and never once have I seen the blood god so clearly you have the wrong place”

“On what rights do you have to claim this area as yours?” He questioned.

“On the rights of finders keepers, I claimed this area as mine therefore it's mine,” In truth the area was Techno’s but that wasn’t information they needed to know.

The guard let out a huff at his response, “Well no matter, you’re with us now, might as well make use of you” By this point most guards had gone back to what they were previously doing before the interruption.

Tommy may not have thought this out, he didn’t want to stay with them he was just trying to get them to leave! “I really think you’ve got the wrong area, big man.”

“Well then, there should be nothing for you to worry about.” Before Tommy could ask him what he was on about he felt someone grab his wrists from behind and they pressed their knee to his back forcing him to fall to the ground, wrists still captured in the unknown person's grasp.

He stared up into the eyes of the knight in front him and could see a dark gleam in his eyes as he crouched down to be eye level with him, “You said you wanted to be a knight? Well this is how you can help us out, nothing like live bait to encourage the blood god to reveal himself.” He felt his mind buffer at what had just happened before finally his brain processed what was happening, he was going to be used as bait against Techno.

Oh Techno was going to be so mad when he found out Tommy willingly walked up to his now captors.

In his defense this wasn’t how he planned this interaction turning out. The knight seemed to take his silence as fear and grabbed him harshly on his shoulder dragging him up with him as he stood. He was then pushed into the person behind him, “Go tie him up, and make sure you draw blood,” there was no sympathy in his voice.

“Wait wait wait, you really don’t have to do this,” It wasn’t that he was scared of Techno, he knew Techno would rather lay his life than hurt him, he was more scared of what would happen if the hunters did manage to get the jump on him. Techno was always protecting Tommy and Tommy just wanted to return the favor and look how that turned out. With his hands currently being tied together behind one of the thinner trees leaving him trapped to it.

He could deal with this until Techno inevitably showed up; it may have been uncomfortable but it certainly wasn’t the worst. At least until a blindfold was forced over his eyes and a gag shoved into his mouth. “Sorry kid, it’s nothing personal,'' Tommy really began to struggle, now fueled with the panic of losing his sight, he tried his best to let his displeasure be known with how he was trying to curse out the knight despite the gag.

The knight's cold grip was firm on his wrist before an unbearable pain shot up his arm. He felt his breath stutter at the sensation of a knife swiftly cutting up his arm, even though it only took a second for the skin to cut, the pain remained a pulsing fire. It’s nothing personal, the knight claimed, Tommy was tied up and bleeding out but it wasn’t personal right? Bullshit.

Finally the knight released his wrist and Tommy flinched as the rope touched the open wound, the feeling of it making the wound sting all the more. “It’ll be over quick,” is all he was offered before the sound of the knight's footsteps left his hearing, leaving him all alone in the forest with nothing to do but hope for Techno to come before the blood loss.

Tehno had just finished tending to the land, making sure the livestock and vegetables were kept up with before he realized something was off. It was too quiet, and with Tommy around things were never quiet. It wasn’t unlike Tommy to go running off but he always came back soon enough, either to bother Techno or just be in his company. He looked around, sniffing as he did so, and confirmed that Tommy wasn’t just hiding nearby trying to surprise Techno.

Looking to where the sun was he saw it was just barely starting to get dark out and while more likely than not Tommy had just lost track of time it made him antsy that it was going to be dark soon and the boy's location was unknown. He couldn’t help but to be protective over Tommy, he was just a little runt and the piglin would do anything to keep his pack safe.

The more he thought of reasons Tommy might not be back yet the more he felt his instincts lead him to action. Soon enough he had caught the faint scent of Tommy and though it was old, clearly from this morning, it was still prominent enough for the piglin to track. Techno found himself unsurprised that he was led to the river, he couldn’t help but smile at the fond memories this location brings. But he was on a mission and couldn’t get distracted until he was sure his ward was safe. The smile slipped off his face as he kept going, a soft frown replacing it as he found the scent heading towards the end of his territory.

Techno’s eyes dilated as what once was a comforting scent was tainted by the distinct smell of iron. The piglin tried not to run when near the runt as to avoid any accidents but this would have to be an exception as Tommy was still missing and definitely bleeding. After that it took no time at all for the giant to reach his goal, spotting Tommy, his family, his pack, tied up and bound like that made Techno see red. Even though Tommy couldn’t see due to the blindfold he definitely heard the giant's footfalls as he was trying to move his head to gauge where the noise came from, Techno’s heart only broke more when Tommy attempted to call out to him.

“I’m here Tommy, I’ve got you, you are going to be okay, I promise.” The giant descended onto his knees, and gently reached out to his brother, tapping his knuckle on his shoulder to let him know Techno was there. Tommy leaned into the contact feeling safe just by the piglins presence and Techno couldn’t find himself to remove his hand using his other to carefully reach around to cut the ropes that bound the boy to the tree.

Right before he could, he felt a prick in his shoulder and looked to see a minuscule arrow lodged in his shoulder. A growl reverberated through his chest as he looked at the area where the offended arrow had come from, spotting a soldier perched with a bow. It seemed with the first hit the rest of them took that as their sign to attack as well. His eyes glowered dangerously at the attackers, easily able to knock down any who dared to get too close, “Are you the one’s responsible for this?”

Though Techno had asked, it was clearly a rhetorical question as everyone was aware of who was guilty of restraining the teen. “We’ve come to best you, blood god!”

Technos head snapped in the direction of the voice and based on the appearance spotted what seemed to be the head knight. With a speed no human could ever hope to match, Techno had reached down and snatched the guard right off the ground, holding him in a fist tight enough he dropped his sword as he was raised. He bared his teeth at the tiny enjoying the look of panic on his face, “Best me? You can’t even hurt me.” There was no mercy as Techno slowly squeezed the life out of the guard. As a reaction all the guards started up again with more vivour but Techno felt no pain, even when one succeeds in hitting him, the attacks are nothing more than an inconvenience to the giant.

It was hearing Tommy whimper that brought him out of his rage, looking over to see where Tommy was previously standing; he was now sliding down the base of the tree. Dropping the nuisance from his hand, not caring of how he landed, he paid full attention to Tommy. Once again dropping to his knees in front of the boy, this time using his arm to encircle him as to make sure nothing could get to him. Without any interruptions he finally was able to cut the rope, freeing Tommy.

Tommy for his part immediately went to take off the blindfold with his now freed hands and it was then that the source of the blood he smelt earlier was shown. On Tommy’s left arm the vein was clearly cut open, blood oozing out as there was nothing to stop it from doing so. Blood was getting all over the young one’s clothes as he moved from untying the blindfold to the gag. Techno couldn’t stop the concerned rumble that produced from him if he tried, seeing his pack hurt like that was making his instincts scream. At the noise Tommy finally looked up at him a lazy smile covering his face, “How’do” he slowly spoke, eyes hazy.

“Oh God, okay, Tommy I need you to stay awake for me alright?” Panic filled his voice he reached out to his little brother noticing how Tommy seemed to absentmindedly follow his movements. Going limp as Techno gently scooted Tommy until the human was fully sitting in his hand. Using his teeth he ripped a piece from his cape and handed it to the boy, “I need you to wrap that around your arm for me, okay?”

Tommy mumbled something that was too quiet for Techno to hear and slowly started to wrap his arm, occasionally flinching from the pain. Techno brought him close to his face just barely nuzzling him with his snout, “You did so good, I just need you to do one more thing for me okay?” Going cross eyed as he watched the boy nod his head he continued, “I need you to keep talking okay? Tell me about what animals you saw at the river.”

“I sawa..deer, it looked tobe..female causeof her…horns..I guess just allthe woman…flock to me.” Despite the slurring Techno let out a relieved sigh, even when dealing with blood loss, Tommy still managed to stay, well, Tommy. Slowly bringing his hand down, Techno cupped it against his chest keeping Tommy tucked close, no could hurt him from there.

Making sure he could still hear mumbling coming from the runt he slowly stood back up, turning around to stare down at the people responsible for Tommy’s current state. All softness left his face as he looked at the knights, replaced with a steely glare that if it could, would already have them six feet in the ground. They were all in one area, surrounding their captain to see if he was alright. Good, this would make Techno’s job easier.

These humans had come into Techno’s territory planning to kill him and not only that but they had hurt Tommy and as they were about to learn, no one hurts Techno’s family. The giant piglin felt no pity as he finished off the guards, easily wiping them out with just one step. They received a death too quickly for Techno’s likening but the life he was holding in his hands was and always would be more important.

Bringing Tommy back up to his face he couldn’t help but to sniff Tommy, trying to find any other spots on the smaller that were bleeding. At the insistent air blowing over Tommy he couldn’t help but to let out a little laugh at the feeling, Techno’s face brightening greatly as he heard the noise. “I knewyou’d save me,” with his uninjured arm he patted Techno on his snout, blue eyes staring into red.

Techno started to purr as he gently squished Tommy against his cheek, knowing just how much the teen liked the sound and at being able to have his pack so close to him, “I’ve got you Tommy, I’m going to keep you safe” and Tommy full heartedly believed he would.

#gt mcyt #mcyt gt #giant!techno #tiny!tommy #trouble writes #I really hope ya'll like this #There wasnt enough big brother Techno #bedrock duo #bedrock due my beloved #Part 2 anyone?

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harseik · 3 years ago

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Firesiders - Six

The Grace Watcher - Dolores de la Cruz, the Watchful Curator

The Right Bearer - Ridge Segovia, the Bombastic Idol

The Spirit Holder - Noah Escálante, the Visceral Athlete The Faith Keeper - JD Wells, the Lionhearted Shepherd The Truth Raiser - Tanner Adrian, the Brotherly Defender The Peace Treader- Madison Romero, the Wayfaring Maverick Link to previous version. I have every right in the world to simply override the original, but it's nice to preserve previous versions any way I can, for sentimental reasons. It's why I still have all of my ancient Firesiders art up that go all the way back to 2010, as horrible and irrelevant as most of it is. Finally decided to update this when I was talking to a family member about this project (ultra rare occasion) and was using the past lineup to explain stuff, but ultimately couldn't because the characters were wrong. Well, no more. HAHA, I didn't notice this until now, but all of the extroverts are smiling and all of the introverts are either sour or looking incredulous. Character notes: Dolores I really feel like the triangle 'shape language' I picked for Dolores (top left) sorta failed and now she looks weird as a result. As for personality changes, she might've lost a marble or two while no one was looking. Past trauma was centered around her head and face which is why she became the Helmet, and so I'm thinking, ya know, brain damage. She'll still be extremely intelligent, but also a little out to lunch. Dolores has always lived with a bunch of birds. By herself. In a giant creaky estate. Why didn't I notice she was kooky before?? Ridge My favorite Ridge drawing from two lineups ago returns, whoohoo! Back to being a frat Hollywood flirt machine with an identity crisis. Noah Just a couple touchups. Still the same knucklehead. JD As mentioned in a previous submission, JD's shape language has been changed to "circle", so her portrait's been redrawn and is looking much more anatomically convincing. Apples was revisited too, dramatically giving away his paper lantern aesthetic! Tanner And like clockwork, the only person that didn't change in the slightest when it came to touchups, was Tanner. He is immutable. Eternal. Constant in his vanilla insipidness. He is best boy. However, his personality, or rather his motivations/fears/desires, have shifted somewhat. It would be "sloth" that more or less characterizes his main flaw now. He has a habit of rendering himself numb to problems, giving into platitudes, and artificially limiting himself to the comfort of supportive roles, rather than do anything that would make him appear unagreeable or separate. He is a masterclass of selling himself short, all done to achieve that peace of mind he craves. Floating with the tide may buy him contentment in the short term, but how long until he realizes that to know real peace, he must first know Truth? Madison The more I stare at the eyes, the weirder she looks. I'm stuck with it for now, I guess. Hopefully I've at least gotten the idea across: devil-may-care biker chick who shoots the world a side-eye when she's up to no good. A globetrotter since birth, she denies having ties to anyplace... or anyone. This is a weird analogy, but uh, I think of her as a Skyrim fox. Sometimes she leads her crew off the beaten path, occasionally coming across treasures, new understanding, and unspeakable dangers, but most importantly of all, no matter how lost the Firesiders get, they can count on Madison to be their unflappable pathfinder. Update complete~

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optimisticrunawaygalaxy · 2 years ago

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Do I like Spider-Man: home coming? No, no i do not. But I will always and forever go feral for these GI-FUCKING-GANTIC METAL WINGS??

Like??? and the fact that its mainly just metal but he still got the big feathers?? Bro this entire design is cheffs kiss honestly (I know that that is just concept art)

Pretty sure they used this design for the movie, which is sadly not nearly as fuggen HUGE, but still very very dope

I realy wish they went with the other design, with the huge wings and all, because a lot of the promo art still used that design and the wings where clearly meant to be like, a LOT more bird like, folding into themself and all that (like this):

On the other hand I LOVE his body design, like-

????? THATS SO DOPE?=?? SO clearly hand made and not profesional but still skilled and someone (in character) thought about practicality

also the helmet? slaps SO much ass

I love this whole things color scheme, super dirty browns and grays, only accent is green (pants and eyes) and even for the pants its dirty and washed out. The fur colar is the only bright thing on the design and clearly is meant to draw back to the original vulture design (shudders), it also draws the eye to him and his body :D

#I should be drawing #i realy should be #but i mean LOOK AT HIM

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nightwingsaregoths · 2 years ago

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MASTER OF NONE

Fanart for this fanfiction that I love to read on wattpad called One True Queen (An excellent fanfiction of Darkstalker and Clearsight, I would totally recommend if you want your heart stomped on and to cackle evilly at dragons with powers)

Spoilers below the cut:

He has the same amount of spine as a hagfish does. He loves his grandma. He hurts the feelings of schoolchildren. Everybody... I present to you my imagination of Sharp-eyes!

Due to events, he has transcended the limits of flesh. Anyway, here’s some notes that I thought of while drawing:

- Okay, I have never actually successfully drawn NightWings in this type of style with mouths. Sharp-eyes gets to have his own type of mouth (based off of those medieval helmets where there’s these types of slits in the metal). That’s because I cannot draw jaws, but originally you can see there’s this weird black dot underneath his eye, and that was actually supposed to be a jaw hinge. It could also just be his earhole.

- I wonder if I could have made the jaw sharper (I like to think that he modeled his body after his body, but not his original body. You may not know what this means.)

- And yes, I was heavily inspired from medieval knight armor. Funny, because you’d think that the knight would kill the dragon, not the dragon actually wearing such armor himself, right? Ahaha... that sounded better in my head.

- But yes, his front legs are inspired from medieval gauntlets, and are way more complicated than the greaves in the back. You don’t think that he’d need his back legs to write or anything, so of course, his front two talons are going to be very complicated.

- Before I found out that there was actually wiring underneath his armor, I assumed that he was just a walking suit of armor like Alphonse Elric. Anyway, I liked to imagine that there was just darkness underneath, and maybe drifts of his soul escaping around the chinks. Well, that’s what’s going up with his kneecaps, if you want to know.

- The humerus of the body is rounded, like a ball, and it goes into the shoulder as a ball-and-socket joint, especially for humans, birds, bats, etc... That’s what’s up with Sharp-eyes’ wing. It’s a ball and socket joint.

- The rest of him I just drew as a normal NightWing because I didn’t feel like getting all fancy with armor.

#wings of fire OC #not my OC #art #sharp-eyes #NightWing OC #By the way I recommend reading the fanfic it's a very nice fanfic #sorry for the slightly blurry photo my hands aren't too good at taking photos

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bus-noises · 4 years ago

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I’ve fallen in love with TF2, not for the gameplay but for the characters. I love reading the comics, seeing fanart, all that jazz. Finally, I decided to create my own fanart with my own spin on it. I drew this in IbisPaintX with my finger.

Speed paint: https://youtu.be/QG2khzbKazw

Each of the mercs has their symbol on their face, except it has been turned into patterning. They also each have at least one accessory so that they’re easier to distinguish. I wanted all the mercs to be bipedal carnivores, since those would be easiest to position to hold weaponry and be the most likely to be “bloodthirsty mercenaries”. I fully intend to draw the side characters (Saxton Hale, Ms. Pauling, the Administrator, etc.) and make more art of the dino-mercs. You may draw these designs, but credit MUST be given to me, preferably in the form of a link to my account. Do note this is an older piece of art and that in the future Heavy and Engineer will be different colors “canonically” (although I will design swapped colors for all of them in case I ever need to use them) to allow Heavy and Medic/Engineer and Pyro friendships and Scout/Spy rivalry. I will probably use these as blank slates for my own headcanons.

Heavy

Heavy is an allosaurus. I chose an allosaurus since it was big and tough, but it’s arms were long enough that if I twisted them right he could hold Sasha in drawings. Originally, I had planned to do full body references of the dino mercs. I sketched out Heavy, before deciding I hated the body, but loved the face. So, instead of full body references, I went with what you see here. Since his symbol is a fist, I gave him rounded stripes along his crest to look somewhat like the fingers in the fist.

Medic

Medic is a troodon. I went with a troodon due to the fact that they are believed to be one of, if not the smartest dinosaur (from the Mesozoic at least, we all know there’s plenty of intelligent birds today). While not pictured, Archimedes is a dodo, because dodos are actually relatives to pigeons, and doves are also relatives to pigeons. Also I like the trope of “haha dumb thing is smart”. Medics symbol is a medical cross, so I gave him a rectangular cross-like shape on his snout.

Demo

Demoman is a ceratosaurus. There’s actually no real reason for this, I had just asked my friends for help choosing species for certain characters and one suggested ceratosaurus. It played into my favor though, as it allowed me to make it where his eyepatch went around the horns. Demo’s symbol is a bomb, so I gave him a large circular shape on his snout, followed by smaller circles around the horn, looking slightly like a fuse. (Yes, I know, “wrong type of bomb!!” I tried my best ok)

Engie

Engineer is a Utahraptor. This is because of the trope of dromaeosaurids being intelligent (which they are, just not as smart as Jurassic Park makes them). Another thing that made me choose it is because it is believed Utahraptors lived in desert-like conditions, and Texas is basically a giant desert as far as I know. Engineers symbol is a wrench. I found it difficult to do, but eventually I decided to go with reversed semi-circles, like the claw part of a wrench. (I don’t know the word for it)

Sniper

Sniper is an australovenator. There’s really no reason for this other than the fact they come from Australia. Yes, I know sniper is actually from New Zealand. Snipers symbol is a gun’s crosshair, so I gave him stripes going outwards from the tip of his muzzle. I went a bit crazy on the patterning though if I’m honest.

Pyro

While it’s hard to tell under his mask (which was a pain in the ass and still looks stupid) he is a baryonyx. This is because baryonyx lived near water, and I thought it would be funny to make the pyromaniac a water dwelling dinosaur. Only after I finished was I reminded pyroraptor exists. I decided to change him to be a pyroraptor in the future. Since the symbols are on their heads, I decided to make it seem as if pyro painted flames on his mask in his free time.

Soldier

Soldier is the only exception to the carnivore rule. Instead, he is a pachycephalosaurus. I’m sure it’s obvious why I chose that, but in case it isn’t it’s because of their hard, thick skulls. Not only does it look like a helmet, thick headed is an insult that usually means a person is stupid. (In my opinion it’s funny that he still wears a helmet despite the fact his head is basically already one) Soldiers symbol is a rocket. I wasn’t sure how to do this, so I went with a long, scar-like stripe to symbolize the length of the rocket.

Spy

Spy is a coelophysis. This is another one I needed my friends help on. In my opinion it fits since coelophysis were believed to be sneaky in order to catch their prey of lizards, bugs, and other small things they could get their claws on. Since spy’s symbol is a knife, I gave him sharp, jagged stripes on his snout.

Scout

Scout is a velociraptor, due to the trope of them being fast little gremlins. Originally I had planned to make him a gallimimus or some other ornithomimid, but those are often portrayed as cowardly, and I didn’t want to do that. Besides, they also had no teeth, so I couldn’t give him a cocky grin. I struggled with scouts symbol for a while, trying my best to draw a wing/feather-like pattern. I eventually settled on the pattern seen in the drawing, as it looked enough like a wing-tip to me.

Yeah that’s kinda it uh thanks for reading all this

#scout #tf2 solly #tf2 demo #tf2 sniper #tf2 pyro #tf2 #tf2 scout #team fortress 2 #tf2 heavy #tf2 demoman #dinosaurs

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the-silentium · 4 years ago

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Rock Bottom

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4150 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters, killing, ANGST, cruel world in action.

A/N: I just reached 500 followers?! This is crazy! I love you all people who somehow put up with my insanity ♥️

Taglist: @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @clone-rambles

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The vice grips around your upper arms burned as the talons cut through the fabric and tore through the skin. The humanoid creature hissed in pain when your bodies switched position and he got the worst of the branches. Soon, you found yourself falling on top of the Algax, out of breath and in pain.

It quickly rolled over, throwing you to the ground right under itself. You heard yells and saw lights illuminating your surroundings, but more importantly, you saw the eyeless, noseless face mere centimeters from your face, the hideous lining that you thought was its mouth looked burned and sewn shut as if to prevent it from feeding on its prey.

You would have been relieved of the fact if the pain in your arms hadn't moved to your whole torso. He was crushing you to death!

Out of your daze, you trashed around, feet kicking what would be its chest, attempting to push it away. Screeches erupted from tiny slits at the side of its hectically rotating head, the Algax abruptly jerked away from the ground, your body still in its grip. It started moving away from the clones, unbothered by the blaster bolts hitting its back successively or by your movements.

Orders were barked in your ear but they didn't register. All you could acknowledge was the building pressure around your bones, how it was becoming almost impossible to breathe even the tiniest of breath. You were positive that your ribs would start to break at any second now.

The primal part of your brain then took over, reaching for your knife and plunging it forward in the dark blue arm holding you above ground.

The effect was instantaneous. You were thrown like a rag doll to the side, right into a trunk. The thud of your head hitting the wood resonated through your skull, stilling you. Your whole body seemed to completely stop functioning for a whole second before remembering that this wasn't the time to chill out.

A moan nearly escaped your mouth as the first satisfying breath of the last minute filled your lungs. How could you never realize that breathing felt so right? Breathing felt so good. So much better than being squished like a miserable insect. Oh no. Was this how they felt every time you'd step on them? This was so crue-

"Are you okay?" Confused, you blinked at Tech's question.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself as if the question wasn't clear enough.

Then the pain in your arms registered and-

"Holy mother fucker that hurts!" You whined, experimentally poking the bleeding skin to see if this really was the source of the pain.

"Don't touch it!" Tech chastised, slapping your hand away, to which you glared in return.

"I'll die of a blood disease." You pouted, watching as your wound touched the disgusting bloody mix you spread on your clothes earlier.

"Highly possible." You felt the color leaving your face. Maybe you said it, but you didn't want it!

"But we won't let that happen." You jumped at the gauze tightening around your wound unexpectedly, your opposed hand almost shooting out to hit him instinctively.

"That was an Algax, correct?" Hunter approached behind Tech, keeping an eye on the surroundings while the engineer fixed your other arm.

"Spot on. He ran away, right?" The dark blue monster was nowhere to be seen, not that it bothered you.

"Right after you stabbed him." He handed you your knife that you apparently dropped at some point. "Look like those things are blaster proof or something."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there's no blaster in the lore." You gladly took the life-saving weapon back, securing its handle in your grip where it belonged.

"Does your head hurt?" Tech inquired, getting up when he was satisfied with the makeshift bandages.

"Nope. All good." It was pounding in there, but whatever.

Getting back on your feet with Tech's help, you took a second to stabilize yourself before giving a heart attack to the nerd.

"Don't do that!" He yelped, catching everyone's attention on your stretching self.

"I'm just stretching..."

"You just hurt your back! Don't flex your spine like that!" He successfully got you back straight with a slap to your abdomen.

"We have to leave." Crosshair cut you off, pushing between the both of you to get ahead.

"I agree with Cross. No more fuss." You speed-walked to catch up to the abrasive clone, desperately trying to keep the laugh in at the rhyme.

"Thanks for that." You whispered to him, eyes already moving from shadow to shadow.

"Don't thank me. If you stretch again I'll make your life more miserable than it already is." Oh how this only made you want to stretch to push his buttons.

"Can't make it miserable if that means you'll be around." You grinned, unabashed by the meaning of your words. It was time for him to warm up to you a little more.

Every second of silence made you cheer inside. Rending the snarky sniper speechless was an exploit after all.

"I can figure something out." He countered weakly after a while.

Chuckling, you rotated the handle of your knife between your skilled fingers, alternating it from pointing forward and backward to pass your sudden regain of energy. Why did he have such an effect on you? It still was a mystery that you'd have to elucidate later.

"I hear a voice." Hunter informed the group.

"Is it calling you?" This was never a good sign, the Venuste were really effective critters in their task of enchanting everyone around. Keeping him with you and away from them would necessitate Wrecker's muscles.

"No, it's a kid's voice. Whining about flee- fleeing? Something like that. It's not clear."

"A kid?" You stopped dead, deeply confused. Had the council gone mad?! What could possibly justify sending kids out to their death? Or did they get caught outside like you did? "Where?"

"Sure it's not a trap?" He pointed over your shoulder to your right.

"One way to be sure." It genuinely hurt to stay in position and not speed walk through the trees to verify if the council had gone from a bunch of imbeciles to a cohort of assholes running the whole village to their doom.

You had to remind yourself that when you agreed to join the commandos, you'd made a promise to fight for them as well as with them and that you'd be a reliable asset at any time in any given situation. You weren't alone anymore.

It didn't change the fact that it was hard.

"It's personal?" Crosshair clearly saw the shift in your mood, from the tightness in your muscles that wasn't there before to the sudden lack of motion of your armed hand.

"I just want to know if I'll break my hand again or not."

"Break your hand?"

The question passed over your head when you heard the young boy's voice. He wasn't from the village, you knew every kid there mainly because you liked to help them build traps for strangers to fall in and they liked your prank ideas. You didn't know how to tell Tech that you were the one to propose the phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke idea. Maybe it was better to take it to your grave.

You halted at the edge of the clearing illuminated by the moon and its stars, eyes glued to the young boy walking in circle a couple of meters away, his bare feet bleeding profusely from the incessant walking he endured for who knew how long. Your heart squeezed at his fate. No one deserved this kind of torture, let alone an innocent child.

Your eyes adjusted to the new light, a new serene pallet of color taking over the gradually fading shades of blue and black.

The boy's clothes were torn up and dirty to a point where you couldn't say for sure what color it was initially or if there was a design on it like most children liked to wear nowadays.

"What's wrong with him?" Wrecker's worry hit you in the gut. You shouldn't have to tell him this because this shouldn't exist.

"He's a Wanderer, now. A Lumsin got his soul." You slumped, defeated.

"His soul?" He tilted his head and although you couldn't see it, you were sure there was a frown hidden under the customized helmet.

"Yes. Everyone has a soul and Lumsins feed on them. When they eat a soul, the body becomes lost and wander around, walking and walking until it dies."

"His soul got eaten." He reiterated in a whisper, the hand lifting to his head not lost on you.

"Y-" Your heartbeat shot through the roof when your eyes found a crest necklace around the kid's neck.

You knew that crest all too well. And those beautiful red hairs, they should have made you realize sooner. Way sooner.

"I know him." It unconsciously escaped your lips before you leaped forward, not able to repress your urges anymore.

Crosshair was hot on your tail, the others staying in the shadows to keep an eye out.

You jumped before the boy, hands rising to his cold cheeks, wishing that the gesture would pull him out of his spell. He merely rammed into you with his small 6 years old emaciated body, barely making you budge.

He continuously mumbled the same sentence, the last thought his body heard from his soul before the contact was lost.

"I want Fleena."

"Nixon, buddy." You grazed the freckles on his cheeks with your thumbs. He was so familiar.

You'd never met him when he was still a lively boy, their village wasn't one to be in close contact with the others, but you've seen extremely detailed drawings of him. Plus, he looked so much like his sister.

"We have to go." Crosshair pressed, anxious to be so out in the open. You knew you were being delusional and were basically putting him in danger for someone who couldn't be saved, but you had something to do.

"I'll be quick." You assured the sniper before taking the robin carved necklace off Nixon's small neck to store it in your pants pocket.

"Your sis' loves you very much, Nixon." You tenderly kissed his forehead like any child should be kissed, with utter softness and care. "And she wants you to be free."

You could easily remember the nights out between the local cantina and the general store, where Fleena would show you drawings of the beasts that attacked her village when their gates got breached. You were terrified. Her whole village was wiped out in a single night, leaving her behind with a mind plagued with nightmares and grief.

She talked often about Nixon who had turned 6 the week before it happened. She would relive her best moments with him, where laughs and smiles were a common occurrence. Then she'd close on herself, praying to the merciless gods above to at least let her brother be in peace.

It broke your heart to know that it wasn't the case. That he was still trapped, may his soul be somewhere else, hopefully, in a better world, his body was still living in a wicked world.

"You deserve to rest Nixon." You ruffled his hair like Fleena used to do.

With a quick movement of your hands, you freed him from his torment in this cruel world.

The world numbed for a moment, mind blocking the events for your own sanity, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop all the injustice of this world. A vast beautiful world that you couldn't explore because of monsters waiting for the right moment to bounce. You were forced to live in a cage when the world was so vast. Kids were forced to grow up too fast or couldn't grow up at all. This world was sick.

It took 2 hours for your stomach to empty itself on the ground for the first time of the night. In all honesty, it was longer than you initially expected.

Oh. You didn't expect either to find yourself back into the woods, without any memory of making the way back. Hands alternate from patting your back to stroking up and down between your scapulas.

Someone's tears fell onto the bile, or maybe it was raining. Yes, it was raining. You felt the water stream down your cheeks like rivers, the two trails joining at your chin to fall on the ground.

"You freed him." Crosshair crouched to your level so you'd not tune him out like you did the others. "You helped him."

"I helped him." You repeated. It was true.

"You did." A finger moved across your cheek to remove the remaining rain from your face. No. They were tears. Your tears of pain.

"I hate to force this on you, but we have to get back to the rav-"

A scream of distress pierced the night, cutting off the sergeant in the worst way possible. Everyone froze, listening to the yells asking for help that only you understood. Another hunter. He wasn't that far away.

"He's asking for help." You mumbled slowly coming out of your daze.

Your eyes moved away from the bile splattered before your knees to meet the black and white helmet of your sergeant. You were in no position to decide, the fog in your mind only beginning to dissipate gradually.

"We can't help." The requests for assistance had already morphed into screams of pain and agony that they didn't need to be translated to understand.

"We hurry back and get off this rock." He cut short, the yells fading quickly in intensity.

Hands under your armpits helped you up. Shaky legs stilled after a couple of seconds and a few deep breaths. Slowly as if you'd double over at any second, Wrecker's huge hands let go of their grip on you. With a muttered thanks you harshly wiped your face with your hands to get yourself together.

You needed to bottle up every event happening tonight for later. You'd have time to scream, thrash around and cry when you'd be safe within the Havoc Marauder.

"Ready." You affirmed after swallowing the lump in your throat.

The night was silent again, meaning that the beast could either be feasting or roaming around again. The group will have to be extra careful to return to the ravine and stay under the radar. Many species could have caused this kind of screams and they weren't to be messed with.

Hunter took the front while you took his place in the middle, just behind him. Crosshair grazed your right arm, Tech your left and Wrecker got your back.

You purposefully ignored the worried glances coming from Tech, it surely must have been a shock to see you do what you did in the clearing. It was so out of nowhere for them. But it wasn't for you. A big part of your brain simply wished they would not abandon you on the planet once you all make it back to the ship.

This time, you were the first one to notice the change in the atmosphere. What was interpreted by Hunter as the wind humming through the trees was in fact a very angry Kribat protecting its territory.

"Hide!" You whispered harshly in the comlink you hurriedly pulled out of your pocket. There was no way they'd see your hand sign at your current position.

It was so sudden that they stopped for a millisecond, unsure of where to hide. You pushed through them to lead the way to a deeper line of trees on your left, feet moving faster to get more distance between the Kribat and your group.

Your feet slipped under yourself when you ducked behind a particularly large tree. Despite your best efforts to stay upright, gravity pulled you down to your fall, as it clearly enjoyed to do, both physically and mentally.

The ground wasn't as hard as you remembered, a bit soft if you were to define it, and warmer.

It wasn't until Wrecker pulled you upright once again that you realized that your fall had been broken by a shredded body. Dread washed over you as you saw the two other hunters who'd suffered the same fate, laying close by in a pool of their blood, missing some limbs.

You knew them. They never had a place in your heart, but you knew them nonetheless and would never have wished them to suffer like they did. You knew two of them had families waiting at home. Well. Maybe they weren't waiting, merely hoping that they would come back by some miracle.

Two feet away from a Kribat's preys was the worst place to be right now, but you couldn't move to another spot. Not with the howling Kribat right behind yours and Wrecker's hiding spot.

It was awfully close. Too close to your liking and way too angry to hope to survive its attacks if it were to find you.

Wrecker had you pressed to his chest by a hand right over your breast, detail that flashed into your mind although it was totally irrelevant. He was just stressed like you were. His hands simply reached for you in his haste and happened to find the friends-are-not-supposed-to-touch spot so you dropped it. At least he wasn't groping.

The ragged breathing of the feral beast passed as it reacted to a movement nearby, giving chase to the unfortunate creature. For a painful second, you thought that it might be one of your teammates, Tech and Hunter were out of view while Crosshair was peeking back to get a glimpse of the retreating beast.

Just as you tried to push away to see if the missing clones were around, Wrecker's hand pushed you more into himself, crushing your boobs like they were never crushed before.

"Everyone's okay." He informed you to keep you still, not releasing his grip. You hummed in acknowledgment.

"Wrecker." He hummed back, waiting for you to continue. "Hands off my boobs."

You've never seen a hand fly away as quickly as Wrecker's did. Yours didn't even move that fast when you accidentally put your hand on a lump of red coal and you remember having a good reflex then.

"Hands off what?" A harsh whisper in your right ear caused the demolition expert to sputter.

Apparently, the comlink in his helmet caught your voice.

"I didn't know Sarge!" He explained without any more delay. "Sorry Y/N."

He kept his free hand far from your body now that the danger has passed. It would have been hilarious if only you weren't at the lowest emotionally.

" 's fine Wrecker." You shrugged, unbothered by all of it and way too exhausted emotionally to care. It was an accident in the midst of action, nothing more, no need to create a whole drama because of it.

A piece of wood in the bloody mess caught your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat at the recognizable darker tint of the object, tonight was getting slightly better.

Crouching, you reached for the thick wood stick, fingers moving along the carvings etched into its length. Both in relief and satisfaction, you found the energy in yourself to smile.

"Found something?" Tech approached from your side, the remaining missing soldier in tow.

"Yeah. Most useful stealth weapon on this planet." You showed him the bloody bow, your other hand sliding your knife into its rightful place in your boot.

Rolling the body to the side respectfully, you checked for the quiver that you found still strapped to his back. Slowly, you pulled it over his head to pass it over yours.

"This is a fine piece of work." Despite his words, you could hear that he clearly would never use it to defend himself if he had the choice.

Taking back the weapon, you cleaned the grip and loaded an arrow, muscle memory doing a splendid job into positioning yourself perfectly in a flawless shooting stance. A sigh of relief almost escaped your lips at the feeling of finally being adequately armed.

"Think it will hurt them more than our blasters?" Crosshair gave you some extra arrows he found laying around, still unconvinced that wood sticks with metal points could surpass their own advanced technology.

"We'll know it now."

You frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow to arm the bow, pulled on the string while aiming over the engineer's shoulder and suddenly released the tension on the string, scaring the shit out of Tech but hitting your target perfectly.

The Algax screeched as the arrow hit it right where its left eye would be, retracting its dangerous talons reaching for the goggled clone to grab at its face.

The troopers jumped at the unexpected screech, although they recovered in record time, turning around, blasters at the ready. They only had time to shoot at its already retreating form.

"Don't lose that." Hunter turned around, pointing at the bow in your hands. "Now let's go." He urged everyone forward.

Quickly, you grabbed the arrows in Crosshair's hand and stored them with the others.

As you took your position back at the front, a hand softly grazed the small of your back, by possessiveness or just to ensure that you were alright, you weren't entirely sure. But Hunter's gesture was very much welcome.

The bow was a game-changer. The weapon may not be able to kill them, but it could very easily gain you some time when needed.

Now, if luck could still stick by your sides, the next useful thing you'd find was a shelter.

In the following hour, you managed to scare away the next 3 Algax you encountered with a single arrow neatly shot between the hollows where their eyes should be and avoided another Kribat.

Apparently, these two species were the main population of these parts of the jungle, it was a two-edged knife. The boys got used to hiding around the environment and knew how to react properly at an Algax jumping on them out of nowhere, but you knew those weren't the only danger around. Would they react adequately when a new monster presented itself?

Tech changed his opinion on your weapon, affirming that he'll have to build one himself, more technological of course, improved like he said. You kicked his shin at the 'less-primitive' insinuation behind his words.

"It's a great weapon that deserves respect Tech." You reprimanded, arrow pointing to the ground and ready to engage if needed.

"It does need improvements!" He countered on the defensive and he proceeded to explain what he would do to add more strength to the bow, allowing it to shoot further and at a greater impact.

Just as Hunter shushed the engineer, you heard your name being whispered in the distance. Fear tensed your muscles in apprehension, expecting claws to tear at your skin any second now. Time went on without any foes jumping out of the shadows, prompting you to continue your route with the others, passing it for the wind or a trick of your mind.

That is until everything went downhill.

"Do you guys hear that?" Wrecker suddenly asked, immediately catching everyone's attention.

Silence followed, seconds after seconds passed in utter silence until, "That! Heard that?"

"No." Hunter stopped the group to ensure that they weren't missing something important.

"Wrecker, what is it? What do you hear?" A cold sweat ran down your spine, already knowing what he was going to say but praying otherwise. This couldn't be happening.

"It's 99." Even without knowing who was 99, you knew that it would end badly, there was too much raw worry in his voice to calm him down in so little time. "He's in danger Sarge!"

"No! Don't listen to it!" You jumped out to grab his armor, his hand, his blaster, anything really, not that your small muscles would have been able to stop the bear of a man anyway but your body thought it could.

He was unexpectedly fast for someone his size, easily dodging your hand to push through his brothers like they were nothing. He ran like a desperate man chasing a dream and it hit you like a punch to the face. This was exactly it. His most desperate dream finally came true to haunt him.

As you expected, the boys were on his tail in a heartbeat.

But as you ran after them, you realized that for a team comm that should be flooding in orders for Wrecker to stop and pleas for him to understand that this was a trick, it was dreadfully quiet.

Your blood froze in your veins as soon as realization dawned on you like a an ice cold bath.

They all believed it.

#bad batch x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #clone force 99 #star wars #clone wars #good night good luck #sergeant hunter #angst

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shipskicksandgiggles · 3 years ago

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Ok so I preface this with the fact I am in love with Sam Wilson as Captain America. Saying this means I want the absolute best for him because he truly deserves it. I am big into characters costumes they can show progression and change like with Steve’s or Vision or they can show intentions or character traits like in Black panther with the opposing silver and gold suits. Now on this strain what are your opinions of Sam’s costume? This may not seem like a big question but the way the design team presents a character is very important. (can you tell I’m a design buff) in my opinion, especially for an originally bird inspired hero, the costume seemed like that a costume a bit bulky and not as well thought out as other characters. The reason for this could be many things (if you agree with me on this) I again restate that I love Sam Wilson as captain America and this is not an attack on his role but rather the way he was presented by the directors, designers, and writers. Thanks for reading this essay lol and have a nice night!

ooo. oooo. okay okay okay you're not ready for the thoughts I have because hhhh movie nerd/leftover symbolism from AP english brain meets logical physics brain and i yell every time

so. we we meet sam in tws

this is our man. I will tell you right now how intentional costuming departments are because we have: Air Force sweater (establishes Sam as military along with his connection to flying), the light color and soft material (seriously i would trust him right away), not to mention the obvious fact that they’re workout clothes and draws Steve in. throughout the course of the movie his clothes start to fall back from civilian to the muted green or grey tones typically associated with military, which I think is interesting, but then we get the falcon suit

we have the original military, what I think is either ant man or civil war, endgame, and then the suit we see in the first few episodes of tfatws

now. I don’t know who designed these. but we will be having WORDS you hear me??? look I don’t have the stats on how fast or high he’s flying, but that doesn’t matter that much. his forearms aren’t protected. he’s going to get cold. he’s going to have windburn. there is no helmet and apart from the goggles he really doesn’t have much going to protect his face either

also, the tfatws suit is my favorite if these. why?? it’s the sleekest. when you’re flying like that you cannot have drag. if the fabric bunches up or rips you’re going to be in bad shape. he’s not like Tony or Rhodey in a metal suit, that’s just Kevlar. durable yes, but not indestructible (probably especially at high velocity)

the color development is also interesting red but mostly grey in his early hero-ing days, almost entirely dark grey with red accents after hes in the run, and that primary Very Recognizable Red with light grey after he comes back and gets pardoned. you know what that is? that’s growth. that’s sending the message that people are able to recognize him and he’s back on his game

which brings us to your point. the Cap suit

hello. look at that angel right there. still no helmet, again an issue, but the vibranium is giving me more confidence in his safety (and his arms are fully covered, bless). the vibrant red white and blue screams Captain America (think about how bright Steve’s uniform was in tfa or the avengers), and the tech is seamless enough that it looks almost elegant

coming back your original ask though, you’re right, it’s not very bird-like. the only nod Sam ever really has (that I can think of at this exact second) to that original inspiration is 1. the wings and 2. EXO-FALCON. that was just the name of the program. it was tied to the bird, but mostly in the metaphorical sense yeah he swoops in and rescues people. they clearly tried to incorporate some of the elements from the comics (the color red, the goggles, the partial head piece and I’m still mad about the no helmet thing, you can see small similarities in the belt area, etc), but overall I think they just tried to make it practical for military usage. because that’s what it was originally in the context of the MCU

if you really want me to get into how I would have designed the suit, I will, I have a lot of thoughts personally, but I’ve already written an essay and I think I might be overdoing it

#asks #answers #spring canary tag #suit eval #oh my GOD I totally get the bird thing tho #if Sam/the Falcon weren’t already established he’d be the eagle if the propaganda weren’t so obvious #obviously you can take my opinions with a grain of salt #but the mcu’s attention to detail in costuming blows my mind #sam wilson #ellis writes

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bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture · 4 years ago

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Alright, so this is a bit later than I intended, but real life is a pain sometimes. And for those who missed the last post, that’s mostly on me for posting it at midnight, so you might want to go back and check for that - it covers the whole convo between Toshinori and Izuku on the rooftop!

But yeah, this is the final stretch, all the rest of chapter 1, so let’s hop right into it because it’s gonna be a ride.

[No. 1 - Midoriya Izuku: Origin]

Lookit that firebreath (I know it’s not shh). Also, again with the weird lack of crowds / people around in what should have at least a few stragglers. I get that drawing crowds / background masses is annoying, but in a wideview scene like this it’s unnerving. Japan is a high-population-density country, so… uh...

Izuku stares forlornly at his notebook, thinking about all the things people have told him over the past half chapter I mean day about being realistic and thinking seriously about his future. Izuku turns the book so the title faces away from him and starts tearing up, rubbing them away while he chastises himself for crying when he already knew he was being unrealistic, and that his knowing was what had driven him so hard to not see reality.

Overhead sign: 田 (den/ta) 等 (tou) 院 (in) 商店 (shouten) [business] 街 (machi) [boulevard, street]

Store sign: (コ)ネストアー (konesutoaa) [cornerstore]

Well, there’s the crowds, though still not able to account for all that empty street. We also see that Izuku has managed to wander his way to another hero fight despite not even really paying attention, and even though he tells himself he’s going to make himself feel bad for watching, he still heads over to join the crowds.

He snaps out of his funk when he sees the villain, asking himself how they got away, then realizes he must have made All Might drop it, which means it’s his fault (which kid, honestly, considering he just left those bottles in open flap pockets instead of holding them firmly in his hands, you are not the one to blame.) Also, he utters the ‘this is my fault’ out loud, but the people in front of him obviously don’t hear, distracted as they are with the reason the heroes are just standing around - which is the middle schooler the villain has.

Izuku has a brief flashback to when he was being violated by the villain, and is horrified that someone else is going through the same pain. We get a brief panover of the crowd:

Izuku and Toshinori are like, only fifteen feet apart here, and have the same reaction to the crowd’s commentary. Incredible. We zoom back in to Izuku, who is blaming himself for All Might not being able to do anything. He mentally echoes the same words as the heroes, that someone with the right quirk needs to show up to help catch the guy. He internally tells the captured person to hang in and apologies, saying someone will save him soon.

God I love this spread. This is everything about Izuku right here. You can actually see where Izuku shoved himself through the crowd in order to sprint forward, and you can also see the genuine fear in Katsuki’s eyes in that moment where he and Izuku locked gazes. Also I checked, he sprinted right past three pro heroes, with none of them reacting in time. Incredible.

Toshinori and said heroes all freak out, and Izuku’s panicking right along with them but is still rushing forward despite that. Death Arms and the bird-helmet hero both yell at Izuku to get back, but don’t actually go after him. The sludge villain and Katsuki both react as well, recognizing Izuku.

Izuku’s notebook hits the ground spine first, and we flash over to Izuku wondering what the hell he’s doing. The sludge villain moves to try and hit Izuku when he gets close enough, while Izuku pulls off his backpack and continues to panic-think over what to do… with the book just so happening to open to the page he ends up thinking about, on Kamui Wood’s signature attack from the beginning of the chapter.

He throws his backpack right at the sludge, all the stuff in it flying out as extra ammunition for the villain’s face to dodge, and while distracted, Izuku ducks underneath the strike and calls for Kacchan. Fortunately, the sludge has been forced to pull away from Katsuki’s mouth, allowing him to take a breath before demanding “You? Why?!”

Remember this for (checks watch) 284 chapters from now. Also fuck, I just realized, remember this?

'a pro should always be ready to risk his life'

'the reason I smile is to stave off the overwhelming pressure and fear I feel'

'a symbol of peace who saves people with a smile must never be daunted by evil'

Izuku took those words to heart as well, and is already reflecting them only moments after his dreams were crushed. And you can tell in the next panel that Toshinori heard those words and was slammed right to the core because of it, because he knows that kind of drive, that sort of spirit.

We see the villain going back to suffocating Katsuki, while telling Izuku to stop it. Toshinori calls himself pathetic again while powering up, and the villain tells Izuku to stop getting in his way, that it’s only a bit longer, and moves to smash Izuku out of the way. Inside the sludge, we can see Katsuki close to passing out. The other heroes finally dash forward to try to get him out of there in time, only for someone else to latch onto the arms of both kids instead.

That someone, of course, being All Might, still steaming from going into his hero form. He tells Izuku that he (All Might) should ‘practice what he preaches’ and reiterates that a pro should always be ready to risk his life (while blood seeps from his teeth).

I’m blown away by Horikoshi’s art in this, and this is where he started. God, just thinking of current manga events and the art there… this man needs to be stopped, he’s too powerful, I am going to cry doing comparisons and I don’t even have a clue about any fancy art terminology or the like, all I can do is stand back and be awed.

Izuku has had a rough day.

And here we see the force of the blow, which somehow didn’t blow away the crowds or damage the windows of all the buildings of the surrounding blocks. Jesus fucking christ. And then the remnants of the blow head upward, causing it to start raining because of the rising air current from that one punch.

How was all that shit not blown away????? A mystery to everyone. Also, Katsuki and Izuku are both passed out on the ground while the crowd and media go fucking wild over what All Might just did. All Might turns to keep an eye on the two while also wobbling slightly, the pressure of holding this form past his limits.

After that, we go back to narration from Izuku, talking and showing the cleanup efforts and the villain in two garbage bags (as he deserves). The heroes chastise Izuku for putting himself in danger (I want to note that this has nothing to do with his quirklessness as far as the scene portrays), while Katsuki gets praised for being tough and having a good quirk, and gets an offer to sidekick. Katsuki isn’t listening or just plain doesn’t care, too busy glaring… or not really? At Izuku.

We get a short scenery panel, I guess to suggest the passage of time, and then we see Izuku putting his backpack back on, thinking moodily about wanting to apologize to All Might but not being able to, so he’s planning on leaving a message on the hero’s website. Katsuki calls Izuku out, and takes a shaky moment before snapping at him, saying he didn’t need Izuku to save him, that he could have handled it himself, that he doesn’t want a quirkless kid’s pity, and that he’s not gonna get won over just with this and to stop mocking him. He then spins on his heels and stomps off with a last ‘stupid nerd’, while Izuku thinks Katuski’s a tough guy. He still agrees with Katsuki, though - he didn’t do anything, he didn’t change anything, but he’s still happy, and now he can focus on a realistic future.

And then All Might zooms into view, scaring the hell out of Izuku. Izuku asks why he’s there when he was surrounded by reporters, and All Might says it wasn’t hard to shake them off, considering who he is- before he hacks up blood and deflates into Toshinori. Toshinori continues on more calmly, saying he’s there to thank Izuku and revise his earlier statement, as well as offer a proposal.

He starts off on how, without Izuku’s story, he would have been nothing but ‘fake muscles and insincerity’, and thanks Izuku. (Izuku quietly muttering ‘fake muscles?’ here makes me cackle, because honestly, same.) Izuku tries to refute it, saying it was his fault from the beginning, getting in All Might’s way and daring to ask if he could be a hero despite his quirklessness- only for Toshinori to cut in and say that that was exactly it - out of everyone there, it was only the timid, quirkless kid who acted, and in so spurred him to action.

He goes on to talk about how the top heroes show signs of greatness as children, how many of them claim that their bodies moved before they could think. Izuku is shaking and clutching at his heart, hunching over and tearing up as he recalls his mother’s words, her apology to him. Toshinori continues, asking if that was what happened to Izuku, who replies with a yes while crying. He thinks about what he’d wanted his mom to say back then, and so we cut to the end of the chapter:

God, what a fucking great first chapter. I can’t think of another series I’ve read that hooks me in so well right from the start like this.

Also wait, holy shit, the anime LIED to us.

‘The story of how I became a great hero’, not ‘how I became the greatest hero’. There’s a massive distinction in there between the two, and Izuku’s character leans WAY more towards the manga phrasing over the anime phasing. He’d never consider himself the greatest, those would always go to All Might and likely Katsuki first, and then probably his other classmates and friends as well. He’d be happy to be among the greats, but he’d never consider himself on top of them all.

...huh, that’s the end, besides the one character panel that I’m gonna throw in a separate post. I fucking love this project so much, and I really wanna see what else the manga has to offer that the anime has lied to me about. This section went by a bit faster than expected, but I suppose that’s what comes from almost all of it being action, so. Thanks for sticking around so far, and let’s see what’s to come in chapter 2 together! :D

#chapter 1 #opening arcs #readthrough #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #yagi toshinori #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #this went faster than expected #ah well that just means this chapter is done #(celebrate emoji)#man there was a lot to unpack in this chapter #I fuckin love Horikoshi's work

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buckyodinson · 5 years ago

Note

Reader dies in front of Din

Hoo boy, someone ordered some angst, so here we are! Hope this doesn’t hurt too much! 💛

Loss

You’d been briefly stopped off on some backwater planet after one of the Crest’s engines failed. While it was being fixed, you, Din and the Child were laying low in a small cantina in a nearby town. You were briefly opening the Child’s crib to give him pieces of food before closing it again, hoping not to draw too much attention to him. Din kept watch of the cantina, looking out for anyone who would try their luck at taking the Child. At one point, when you opened the crib to give the child a small piece of food, you poked your tongue out and made a face at him and he babbled in response before you shut the crib again, smiling to yourself. Din felt his heart beat like a jackhammer inside his chest at the sight, loving how sweet you were with the Child.

Though in this case, your little distraction would prove to have fatal consequences. While Din spent those few seconds watching how you interacted with the Child, a Rodian with a tracking fob entered the cantina, and managed to slip unnoticed by Din. This bounty hunter stayed hidden along the far wall of the cantina, and turned his tracking fob off once he caught sight of the crib in front of you, knowing his prize was there. The gleaming wall of Beskar sat a few feet away was the definite giveaway he was in the right place, and the visor of the Mandalorian’s helmet had yet to settle on the Rodian, so he was able to sneak closer to the table without rousing suspicion.

It was too late by the time Din noticed. A single blaster shot came from across the cantina and hit you square in your shoulder. You were lucky you’d just leaned over to grab more food off of your plate, or it would’ve hit the centre of your chest. For that, you guess you have to be thankful, but you had no time. Din was quick to grab his blaster and shoot the Rodian dead before helping you up and rushing out of the cantina, heading towards the Crest, and praying to the Maker the repairs were completed.

He walked just ahead of you, but keeping you in his peripheral as you walked quickly back to the Crest. He could tell you were in pain, and he could see the blood trickling down your arm and staining your tunic, and he started to walk faster, concerned by your silence as you walked. Din had hooked you up with your own vambrace, similar to his own one, so you could also control some of the ship’s controls, but more importantly - the Child’s crib, if he was ever away from you and the Child collecting a bounty. The crib was currently linked to your vambrace, and following closely next to you while Din paid more attention to your surroundings. He had a bad feeling about the walk back through the town centre after what just happened, and he kept his rifle in his hands as he walked, and you kept your own good hand ready by your holster.

You’re nearing the edge of town, and the Crest is in sight when you hear the familiar beeping of a tracking fob ring through your ears. Several tracking fobs, actually. In your peripheral, you start to see figures emerging from doorways and following you. You reach the town gate and there are various men stood there, hands on weapons, and you and Din come to a halt. Your lift your bad arm up, and rest it atop the crib, wincing at the effort. Din doesn’t miss this action, and behind the unforgiving glare of the helmet, he’s desperately trying to work out an escape strategy where neither you or the Child get hurt.

“Mandalorian!” A booming voice emanates from the heavily armoured man in front of you, “Give us the bounty, and you may pass to your ship, with no harm befalling you or your partner.”

You’re breathing heavily, panic setting in your chest, but Din’s modulated voice soothes you slightly, “I can’t do that.”

“That’s a shame...” the same man speaks again and gives an imperceptible nod to one of his accomplices, and before you know it, you’ve taken a blaster shot to your right knee. You scream and drop to the ground, and Din aims his rifle at the leader, pulling his blaster out and pointing it at the man who just shot you.

“How about now, Mandalorian?” He speaks with threat lacing his tone, smirking.

“Tell your men to stand down, this isn’t a fair fight.” Din countered, putting away his blaster as a sign of goodwill, slowly moving towards you but keeping a tight grip on his rifle.

A blaster shot hit the ground between you and Din and he held a hand up, indicating he wouldn’t move any closer to you. He moved back to his original spot at the gesture of the man in front of you, whose blaster was now smoking.

“I thought you did well with odds such as these, Mando.” The man scoffed, and several of his buddies laughed in response. Din only glanced between them and you, watching you rip some material from your tunic and wrapping it tightly around your knee, grimacing as you did so.

As you did so, a bounty hunter approached the crib, and you pulled your blaster on him. He immediately responded by pulling his own blaster, and you stared down the barrel with intent, “Go ahead. You’ll be dead within seconds.” He looked up and saw Mando now had the rifle pointed in his direction, and he lowered his aim, preferring not to be disintegrated.

You slowly make it to your feet (with some trouble), which makes the majority of the bounty hunters shift their aim from Din to you. He takes this opportunity to set off his whistling birds, which take out a large amount of the men surrounding you, and you manage to kill a few more as you limp towards the Crest, Din following behind you.

You start to breathe a sigh of relief as the Crest gets closer, before you see an explosive drop to the floor right before your feet. You know you don’t have enough time to get yourself away from it, so in the few seconds you have, you cover the crib with your body, hoping to brace it from most of the impact.

Din has just killed the last bounty hunter, turning to walk to the ship with you when the explosion goes off and you’re thrown Maker-knows how far in the air with the crib. He screams your name and runs after you.

The crib remains undamaged, and the Child pokes his head out, seemingly okay. Din thanks the Maker for that, but immediately panics once he reaches you, and you’re hardly moving. He falls to his knees, and pulls you into his lap, looking at the puddle of blood that lays on the ground underneath you. Your clothing is littered with rips and tears, and the sight of your blood staining your clothes makes Din’s voice shake.

“Can you hear me, cyar’ika?” His panicked voice is barely audible through his panic.

A gloved hand comes to rest on your cheek as you look up at him. He can see the pain behind your eyes, but you smile up at him nevertheless , and reach a shaky arm up to rest on the side of his helmet, the rough edge to your voice pulls tears from his eyes in a steady stream down his cheeks, “Get the... child safe, Din. D-d-on’t worry a-about me. I’ll always be... here...” your hand drops to his cuirass and you pat it lovingly above where his heart is.

“I can’t leave you, mesh’la. There’s so much I need to tell you. So much. I-I...” a sob escapes his lips and he can’t finish the sentiment as your arm falls back limply to your lap and tears escapes your own eyes.

“I know, Din. M-me too.” You know what he’s going to say, and you know he needs to hear it from you too, so you spend your dying breath letting him know.

“I love you.” He speaks it into the air but it’s too late. Your chest no longer rises and falls. No more tears escape your eyes. But there is peace in your features, and he hopes that in death, you truly did know how much he loved you.

He sits for a while, just crying with your limp body pulled against his chest, before he slowly removes his helmet and places a tentative kiss on your lips, feeling his tears drop onto your skin. He knows there’s nobody around to see his face, but honestly, he wouldn’t care at this point. He’s already lost you, what’s losing his Creed when he’s lost his lifeline.

He allows himself to sit there for a little while longer, wondering how you would have reacted to his face. How you would’ve kissed him back and told him you loved him too. But it was too late for that. He wiped his cheeks and put his helmet back on, before carrying your body back to the ship, refusing to bury you on this skughole planet. The crib follows closely behind, with the Child looking confusingly up at your limp body laying in Din’s arms.

He lays you in your cot and climbs to the cockpit, feeling the weight of the day finally hit him as he slumps in the pilot’s seat. Once the ship is in the air, and he removes his helmet again, he finally allows himself to break down, sobs wracking his body as he replays the moment over and over again, forcing himself to relive the pain.

He doesn’t really know where he’s going until he lands the Crest and walks out to see a pile of rocks with a pair of goggles placed atop them. He sets to work and buries you next to Kuill, and he sits there until it gets dark, talking to the both of you as if you were there. Before he climbs the ramp to the Crest, he places your trademark vambrace on top of your grave, smiling sadly down at it before he turns away.

#mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal angst

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concussed-to-pieces · 5 years ago

Text

To Tell You The Truth Part Two

Fandom: Prospect [2018]

Pairing: Eventual Ezra/Prospector!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Monday has finally come! I'm having a lot of fun writing this (even though this chapter is a bit shorter), and I hope it shows. Enjoy!

Tag List: @huliabitch @renegademustelid @wrestlingfae @zombiexbody @sporadic-fics @rzrcrst @lackofhonor @the-feckless-wonder @arrowswithwifi

Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains allusions to previous sexual and/or physical abuse. Stay safe!]

"Well," Ezra said some time later, his voice still a little raspy from performing his own interventions, "Damon may not have been overly intelligent, but the man was certainly resourceful." He tilted out from beneath the navigation console, carefully stripping free another lump of tape from the mess of wires. "He must have pawned off nearly every non-essential object under there. And a few that, regrettably, are." The older man squinted up at you, no doubt taking in the hopeless expression you were sure was on your face.

"So I'm stuck here." You breathed.

"Slow down a beat, gentle soul. We're not played out just yet. The Saders may have the bits or bobs we need. Or…" he trailed off, those dark eyes fixed contemplatively on a point above your shoulder. "Damon mentioned the Queen's Lair and those Karolclan mercs. I assume you are already aware of-" He stopped when you shook your head, his brow furrowing in confusion.

"Damon talking about it with you was the first time I heard his plan." You confessed. "I had no idea that was why we were here, I just...I mean he told me we were digging of course, b-but I didn't realize it would be...like that." You finished awkwardly.

"And why would you? Better to keep you in the dark, I suspect. Easier to maintain his grip if you don't know there's a secure payout." Ezra replied sourly. "It's bad business if Karolclan is involved. Them or those Krebine degenerates. No sane man would accept that job."

"Before you got him talking, I didn't even know that he used to have a family crew." You continued, not sure why you were still rattling on. Nerves, probably. "He never mentioned them."

"A man's sins can weigh heavy on him. I imagine he figured there was no harm in tellin' me a few of 'em, since he assumed he would be comin' out on top in our engagement." Ezra said dismissively, rolling the tape into a tight little ball. "That is interestin' though, that he would keep you so far in the black. No trust lost between partners." He cocked his head, fixing you with that thoughtful stare. "Though...I am beginning to suspect 'partner' is an incorrect moniker." He muttered, half to himself.

The man gritted his teeth after a moment, wrapping a hand around his elbow and cradling his injured arm to his chest. The thrower wound on his bicep, though treated and sealed off, had continued to slowly ooze yellow fluid around the 'cream' foam. Through the tear in his thermal layer, you could see that the skin around the sealant had gone a sickly pink.

"It would seem," Ezra began, sounding somewhat strained, "that I did not close the wound in time. I am afraid I may have to press our objective to trade with the Saders a little more insistently." He appeared to be making a concerted effort to keep his voice steady. "I apologize, gentle soul."

You had already started to empty the contents of your cumbersome exploration pack out, digging through the tattered pouches for your mending kit. "I'll patch your suit." Ezra gave you a blank look and you shook your kit at him impatiently. "We need to plug the hole in your exosuit. Any sort of loss of integrity is bad, especially if we have to tether. I can fix the rip."

He worked his jaw momentarily, the motion seeming like a bit of a tick. Hopefully it wasn't a leftover from when he had gotten acquainted with your head. "How long will that take?"

"Ten minutes, if that. I'll make it quick." You tapped the bulky chronometer on your wrist.

After he nodded, you tugged gingerly at the sleeve of his half-peeled exosuit where it hung limp around his waist, donning your gloves before you attempted to wipe the sticky fluid off the thick fabric. Then, you flipped the sleeve inside out as best as you could, noting with a touch of dismay just how much pollen was already embedded in the seams.

Undoing your patch pack, you quickly measured and snipped out a rectangular piece from the double-sided patch material. Your handheld stitcher buzzed wearily at the tough outer layer of his suit, semi-straight lines of faded khaki thread punching their way through to secure the lurid orange patch.

"Look at you." Ezra murmured, his voice drawing you out of your focused work. "This is your comfort zone, isn't it?"

You ducked your head down to avoid his gaze, smoothing the rubber sealant backing over the inside of the stitching. "Done." You said quietly.

He inserted his wounded arm back into the sleeve, dragging his fingers across the freshly-patched hole. "I daresay it's better than new, gentle soul! Much obliged for that, though I know it's not just for my benefit." The older man praised, making you flush. Damon had never thanked you. "With that, I suggest we gather your accoutrements and be on our way."

…

Ezra seemed to be in a worse state than he had originally let on. It might have just been the added stress of movement and drawing filtered air, but his staggering was starting to reach a concerning level. At this rate, he would trip over the tether line.

Your gaze trailed down to the inside of your helmet, resting on the gasket barely within your field of view. There was the lone chiclet of Brism gum that you had traded for so many stands ago, taped to the side of the lining. You lazily brought your eyes up again, realizing that Ezra had halted once more. If you took the stimulant-loaded gum, you might be able to…

To what? Overpower him? Outrun him? It wouldn't do you any good now, he was the one who knew where you were going. Better to continue to save the Brism for a real emergency. He had given his word, what little that counted for, and thus far, he hadn't proved himself to be a threat.

To anyone besides Damon, anyway. You recalled how Ezra's shoulders had slumped in defeat when Damon had pressed the pistol to his helmet and forced him to open his trophy case. Knowing how long he must have been here, how difficult it must have been to scrape together what he had found...

You cleared your throat. "Are you-"

"Gentle soul, for both of our sakes--it is best if you do not ask that question." He interrupted, the labored breathing in his helmet com threatening to deafen you. "I am doing my--damnedest not to dwell upon--the uncertainty of my current bodily quandary."

"How do you still manage to use so many words, even when it sounds like your saturation is garbage and you're pulling your air through a filter of mud?" You asked incredulously.

"I am a loquacious fool, gentle soul." He paused to wheeze, then continued on as if to prove his point, "My lighthearted inclination toward palavering has turned into a shortcoming of most grievous impact, given our circumstances." He gave you a curious glance. "I did not anticipate your scathin' query."

You gulped, realizing belatedly how sharp your words had been. "I-I'm sorry, I wasn't-"

"Calm yourself, gentle soul. I did not mean to imply that it was unwelcome." Ezra graced you with a quick, pained grin. "It has been a short eternity since I've had anyone to speak to, you must understand. My extensive vernacular has been languishin' in the rushes." He straightened back up, but continued to cradle his injured arm to his chest. "It's refreshing."

"What about your partner?"

Ezra shook his head at you. "Number Two was mute. Silent as the grave. Whizz at numbers though, could calculate the depth and breadth of just about anythin' if you had parchment to spare."

You hummed in understanding, his overly-wordy terminology suddenly making much more sense. He was used to filling in the silence. Ezra grunted, rubbing a tentative circle around the patch on his suit. "Should...should we put your arm in a sling?" You queried nervously.

"I am afraid it is a mite too late for that, gentle soul." He flexed the fingers on his right hand, swearing softly. "Martyr's malfeasance, that is seizin'. Can barely feel anything south of my elbow. You'd think that would be a blessing." He groused. "Whole thing tingles like a stranger's touch." Ezra looked up and then abruptly halted. "Ah, now here we have some promise." He said, sounding relieved.

You followed his line of vision and froze when you spotted a black-clad figure in the distance, watching the two of you.

"Don't move fast. We don't want to spook 'em." Ezra murmured, slowly raising his good arm to hail the individual. They crouched slightly, cautious. You could relate to that. Ezra waved at them, gloved fingers spread wide as if to display that his hand was empty.

The person darted off back into the underbrush after several tense seconds and you heaved out a sigh of relief. It was short-lived however, as Ezra started lumbering in the direction they had gone. "Where are you-"

"As Eurydice attempted to follow her beloved Orpheus out of the Stygian Abyss, so too we must follow our potential benefactor and have faith." Ezra looked back at you, smiling thinly. "Come, gentle soul. Departing the Green is naught but one more Herculean trial for us to conquer."

He held out his hand to you as if you were a small child. You narrowed your eyes at him and he chuckled, letting his arm drop once more.

"I meant no disrespect. I assumed you needed assurance. You looked ready to take flight like a startled bird."

"I'm fine." You replied stiffly, "I just have the brains to not immediately trust strange people I stumble across in the Bakhroma Green."

"I resemble that remark, gentle soul." Ezra pointed out quietly. "Yet here you are, tethered up. What does that say about your good sense and sensibilities, I wonder?"

"I'm very adept at ignoring warning signs when it suits me." You snapped before you could think better of it.

Ezra's harsh bark of laughter startled you, his smile weirdly genuine when he aimed it at you this time. "I must say, your changeable explosions of acrid ferocity are keepin' me on my toes!" He exclaimed. If you didn't know any better, you would say he sounded delighted. "You are wonderfully fiery when you forget to be timid, gentle soul."

You bit your lip nervously, uncertain if you ought to display concern over how amused he seemed to be.

The large dome of his helmet bumped against yours. "You have gone pensive again, like our dear Sol when it hides behind roiling nimbus banks. Perhaps I am too prone to exposition to suit someone of your taciturn nature. Damon did not strike me as a man of many words." His tone was light, but his eyes were serious. You abruptly felt like you couldn't breathe as his body loomed over you.

"Too close." You managed to say, not ready to attempt to actually push him away.

Confusion flickered across his face, then he seemed to realize that he was leaning his helmet on your own. "Oh! My most sincere apologies, gentle soul. Number Two was a sturdy individual. Afraid I'm overused to restin' a bit of weight where it doesn't belong." He took a large step back, holding his hands out as if to assuage your fears. "I-I meant no disrespect."

His stammer took you by surprise. On someone who seemed so self-assured, it was decidedly out of place. You chewed on your lip and then dared to ask, "What's wrong? You're all...worried."

He stilled, looking away from you and suddenly grimacing in pain. "I...I'm afraid my sands are runnin' low, gentle soul." He admitted quietly. "We have to keep movin', get the lead out."

He trudged forward and before you could reconsider, your hand shot out to grab his. You squeezed it briefly, and then released him. "It'll...it'll all be okay." You tried to assure him, smiling at him like he had at you.

Ezra's expression was unreadable, his heavy brows furrowed deep with thought. He didn't respond to you verbally, just shaking his head after a moment and continuing onward through the Green.

...

The leader of this particular group of Saders, a man named Oruf, welcomed the two of you graciously into his tent once you had stowed your weapons a safe distance away from his village.

Even in the filtered tent, Ezra's wheezing grew more and more pronounced as the minutes passed. You were actually worried now, just how long had he been limping around with half-functional filtration?

"I was once a man like you, who came with a mind to strike aurelac." Oruf murmured. "But that man died down there in the Green." The other bedraggled inhabitants of the tent were eerily silent as Oruf spoke. He clearly commanded some lofty form of respect. "Born anew amongst friends, bonded into layers beyond the ability of the materialists to perceive." Oruf continued grandly.

His eyes wandered to you as Ezra stifled another coughing fit, the Sader leader observing your every move with a calm boldness that had you on edge.

"And now, our son will play for you." The boy, a sullen-looking child with hollow eyes who had been introduced as Fahr, obligingly accepted a strange instrument from his father.

Ezra, who had been almost doggedly focused on Oruf, jerked his eyes down to Fahr at the droning sound of the instrument, the prospector tilting his head to the side. Oruf continued to stare at you and you, in turn, continued to try and ignore the lingering fear currently chewing a hole through your stomach. You couldn't shake the sensation that something was very, very wrong.

There was a woman laying on a pallet off to the side of the main room, and you wondered whether she was ill. She hadn't so much as opened her eyes the entire time you had been there.

The music stopped abruptly and you snapped your gaze back to Oruf, but mercifully he had his eyes closed.

"That was beautiful." Ezra complimented, his voice seeming deliberately soft. Fahr inclined his head and then got to his feet, retrieving a small tray with two cups on it.

Ezra perked up visibly, accepting his cup with a nod of thanks. When you received yours though, you felt a bit queasy. The contents looked a little more...viscous than you would have anticipated.

Ezra sipped from his tumbler far more cautiously than he had imbibed the coffee in the pod. "Juice." He informed you helpfully, no doubt noticing your less-than-thrilled expression. "S'good for you, cleanses the dust."

Another coughing fit rattled his chest and you wondered fearfully just how much dust was in your lungs. The so-called 'juice' felt like an oil slick in your mouth, slimy and wrong, but you gulped it down anyway.

"Thank you for your kindness." Ezra said hoarsely to Oruf as Fahr vanished behind the curtain to the tent's side room. "Now, as you can see, I have sustained a trauma to my shoulder and would much like to flush it with your magic juice." He paused, "and to keep straight, we would also be very interested in proper dressin' and uh, filter refreshers if you have them and can spare them." Ezra tapped the filter that hung slack from his purifier assembly. "In return for your gracious offering, we are prepared to compensate with generosity in equal measure."

He indicated at the heavy pack you had left beside the tent doorway, filled to the brim with everything and anything from the pod that you hadn't needed (and a few things that you could justify living without).

The young boy emerged from the curtained-off room once again, this time toting a large canister of liquid and a tray of small boxes, balanced on top of one of those all-too-familiar white cases. Fahr carefully laid the items out on the ground in front of you and Ezra, then retreated to sit down beside Oruf. "Here is our offer." The Sader patriarch announced calmly.

Despite the proclaimed direness of his infected wound, you didn't miss the way Ezra skipped over everything that might have been remotely beneficial to him to head straight for the white case. Old habits die hard, you supposed. He shakily flipped up the latches and cracked the lid.

Nine healthy-sized aurelac gems were nestled in the protective foam, all clear shells and amber pearls.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Ezra said slowly, a tentative smile quirking his mouth as he glanced up at Oruf.

"For your woman." Oruf elaborated from across the tent, gesturing down at the white case and then to you.

The breath stuttered in your lungs. You could have sworn your very heartbeat stopped. Silence reigned in the cramped space as you stared at the Sader man.

For your woman.

He was bargaining with Ezra, offering all those supplies and aurelac, for you. You abruptly wanted to puke. In that moment, you wished desperately that you hadn't obeyed them when they demanded you and Ezra to leave your throwers far from their little village.

Ezra appeared just as stunned as you were, finally croaking out, "that is...that is a bold offer."

"It has been determined, but you cannot see because aurelac fills your eyes. It is inevitable all the same, that they will be reborn just like me." The Sader man leaned forward intently. "That is the reason why you were brought here. Not the aurelac."

"What…" Ezra swallowed hard, his voice grating roughly. "W-What do you need her for?"

"We lost our mother." Dread flooded your body anew as Oruf waved a hand towards the woman on the floor. Not sleeping, but dead, you realized. "And the rush past, it is time to rebuild."

You were absolutely going to be sick. The juice in your stomach writhed queasily, threatening to make a reappearance. They wanted you...as a mother?

"The Currents have felt our loss, and have pulled you here to reclaim the balance." The man continued relentlessly.

You shot Ezra a panicked look and noted with despair how dark his expression was. He worked his jaw unconsciously, popping it over and over. He was seriously considering this offer, you could see it plain as day on his face. After all, what were you to him?

You were nothing, just like you had been to Damon. A convenient floater. Freighter scum. And to this man, trapped here for far too long, you were his ticket off the Green.

Hours upon hours spent docked in the clutches of various freighters merged together into a mangled, horrifying mass, each instance worse than the last as you tried futilely to shove them all back down.

"You're a floater, who the fuck would even care?" Damon hissed, unstrapping his flight suit and gesturing downwards with one sharp jut of his wrist. "I picked you up for one fucking reason, you understand?"

You were going to be sick.

"Scream all you want, no one can hear you. This pussy is mine."

"No one else would help you. I'm the only one. Don't fucking forget that."

You pressed a hand to your mouth and bolted out the flap of the tent, barely remembering to shove your helmet back on as you went. They want a mother.

No no no no no!

You knew in the back of your mind that it was foolish of you to run off on your own, but the idea of sitting there calmly while Ezra meted out your bodily worth in chunks of aurelac was impossible to consider.

You heard footsteps pursuing you and as you turned your head to look, your boot caught on a small hummock. You fell to the ground hard, quickly rolling over onto your back before Fahr lunged to land on top of you. The boy held a large, curved knife to your throat but then he paused, glancing backwards.

You could hear shouting from the tent. You quickly reached up while the child was distracted, tearing free his filter tube and then shoving him off your body. Free once more, you took off pell-mell back into the jungleous expanse.

Damon's voice echoed in your ears as you fled to where the throwers were hidden.

"You're a floater, who the fuck would even care?"

Part Three

#ezra (prospect 2018)#ezra prospect #ezra prospect x reader #ezra prospect imagine #ezra x reader #slow burn #eventual romance #somebody save me #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #i don't know how to tag this #please forgive me #prospect 2018 #canon-typical violence

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spc4eva · 4 years ago

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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

#big brother paz vizsla #paz vizsla & oc character #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian fanfiction #oc mandalorian #growing up mandalorian

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