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whateverisbeautiful · 2 months ago

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♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#38: The Scars (1.04)

gif cred: @nat111love

In their years apart, Richonne endured some scarring moments that left literal scars on their bodies. They sadly weren't able to be there to help patch each other up from those physical scars back then. But they are here together now to finally open up about the scars, and it leads to a very moving conversation🥺...

So after the Roomba interruption, Michonne lays back down and Rick returns to placing an arm over her as they talk about the things they noticed in the building. I always love a good Richonne chatting while cuddled up in bed moment.

gif cred: @nobleriver

Rick asks if Michonne noticed how thin the walkers were and Michonne notes how they may have starved. Rick talks about how the buildings’ former inhabitants kept this place going for a good while, and I always love seeing that Michonne is playing with his hair while he speaks. They really are back, y’all. 😋 ...Or at least almost back. And, again I love how comfy they both look in this scene.

gif cred: @clonecaptains

Michonne talks about how the people here were innovating and wanted to create another way and then she says, “But no crops?”

Rick says, “Well even if they did have them, crops fail.” See, he may not know Roombas and tech but the farmer's son is well-versed in crops. 😋 I love seeing him just comfortingly rubbing her while he talks. And just the way they’re communicating here it feels like they're a well-oiled machine...But then there’s a slight machine malfunction. 🙃

Because then Rick says, “One bad harvest - something has to burn to bring it back.” Michonne is curious about this and it seems she can tell there’s something more behind the comment so she asks, “What?” And then as I unfortunately suspected, Rick reveals he does in fact have a tad more audacity left in him when he says, “If I can change the CRM there’s a chance for future generations, a real chance.”

gif cred: @nat111love

Y’all…😪.

Every time I hear that I just sigh. Like this was truly me having a great time with this scene and then hearing the CRM get brought up again...

You know how there are safe words in the bedroom? There should also be banned words in the bedroom and 'CRM' is most definitely a banned word.

Now I fully empathize with the pain, fear, and PTSD that is motivating Rick to be saying this. But I still wasn’t here for it, especially after Michonne had just kindly opened up with him in every way and now he’s right back to hurting her with this back and forth. 😔

I was curious what would prompt Rick to bring this up here again after they were having such a nice moment together. Like I get the crops comment had him thinking about his dad's sacrifice and his own sacrifice, but I also think Rick brings it up here because of how great and blissful he and Michonne’s moments together just were.

It’s like this CRM comment is an act of self-sabotage because he ultimately still believes he can’t just go home with Michonne and the more time he spends with her in their lovely Richonne bubble the harder it’ll be to follow through with what he thinks has to be done. So it’s like this is his attempt to pop the bubble for his wife’s safety.

Plus, right now every good moment with Michonne seems to also serve as another reminder for Rick of how unbearable it'll ever be to lose her permanently. And so with this CRM comment, he attempts to "get ahead of" being back with her completely, knowing it'll kill him if he returns to her and something tragic happens and forces him to remain in this world without her in it.

I was also very curious to see how Michonne would respond to Rick saying this since it's understandably frustrating. And she proved yet again that she’s the best wife when she has such a loving response.

gif cred: @nat111love

Looking just so captivatingly beautiful she gives Rick this empathetic smile and then because their kisses are communication she doesn’t even say anything at first, she just gently takes his face in her hands and kisses him. 🥲

gif cred: @nat111love

The she softly says, “You’re still lying to me. You’re lying to yourself.” I love how this is yet another great depiction of how Michonne is so simultaneously good at empathy and accountability. 👏🏽

I think after witnessing Rick's panic attack, Michonne now knows that whatever this wall is that Rick keeps trying to put up is not something he’s doing to shut her out but really to shut himself out. To shut out Alive Rick. So rather than get angry, she feels for him and knows that whatever is going on inside him is very deep-seated and heavy for him.

And this back and forth undoubtedly hurts her, but like a truly selfless gem, Michonne also acknowledges how this hurts him. Rick has the best wife on the planet and it only gets more confirmed as the scene progresses. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

She doesn’t tiptoe around addressing the fact that Rick is lying to her and she also doesn’t beat around the bush when telling Rick what he needs to hear which is that he’s lying to himself too. And she’s spot on. Michonne has always been able to call Rick out with such grace.

I love how she keeps her hand lovingly on his face as she drops these truths and the way Rick is entranced yet again by her. I was like - Michonne, you might be onto something kissing him in a moment like this because that’s a surefire way to get him to snap out of CRM mode for a sec.

gif cred: @nat111love

But also, I feel like she kissed him because one; she feels for him, and two; she knows the tough conversations and hashing things out is likely about to resume so she’s like let me kiss my man one more time just in case it ends up being the last time, depending on how this conversation goes lol. 😅

After Michonne notes that Rick is still lying to them both, I love the look she gives him before getting up from the bed. One; gorgeous and two; her look just feels like she knows that CRM pillow talk has ended any chance of another round.

gif cred: @nat111love

When Michonne does get up her X scar is visible and I feel like they knew we wanted a moment of Rick touching the scar and since TOWL came to check everything it can off the wishlists, we sure enough get this moment of Rick gently touching her scar. I love to see it. 🥹

gif cred: @notwithoutmycoffee

I remember first watching that traumatic season 9 Scars episode years ago and just thinking how badly I wanted Rick to be able to comfort Michonne after she went through that horribleness - and now here we are. 😌

And I always find it sweet that despite saying that CRM stuff and Michonne calling him out for lying, the second Rick sees her scar that becomes his focus. He’s always honed in on her which is sweet. 😊 And you know each time he's seen that scar, he wishes he could have been there to protect her from whatever happened.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Rick inquires saying, “this mark on your back” and Michonne sighs and says “Yeah.” Then she tells Rick the details of what happened and I am so glad she had a chance to share about the experiences she’s been through. 👏🏽

After TOWL Episode 3, I remember I was talking with my brother and I was saying I really hope the next episode has a moment where it feels like everything Michonne’s been through and feeling gets proper acknowledgment and I adore that Danai really did give her incredible character the much-deserved and much-needed space for this. 🥲🙌🏽

Michonne explains that the scar came from a woman that she let into Alexandria who was also a college buddy. Rick is surprised to learn she knew her and Michonne says, “Yep. I was searching for you every day, me and Daryl.” I’m glad she got to tell Rick that she searched for him every day.

It’s interesting the tone in which she’s saying this as she gets dressed and stays facing away from him. There’s this sort of detachment as if she has to speak about this with a bit of a wall up because it’s such a sensitive thing that really traumatized her and it’s like perhaps it’s hard to be vulnerable with Rick right now when it’s unclear which Rick she’ll be talking to.

Even just the act of her getting dressed when they def were about to be intimate again prior shows that she’s having to put some guard up a bit more. And it makes sense because I love the guy truly but Rick’s behavior has really been giving whiplash.

Michonne says, “There was no body, no trace. I couldn’t stop believing you were still out there needing help, needing me.” I love that she knows their soulmatism would mean that wherever Rick was he needed her specifically. And she was right. Rick literally needed even just the vision of her in a dream to keep going.

This line reminded me of a moment in season 6 when Maggie doesn’t know if Glenn is dead or alive. She tells Aaron that if Glenn is alive then she knows he’s somewhere needing her. That’s a feeling Michonne had to live with every day for almost 8 years…knowing if Rick is alive then he’s out there needing her. Not just needing help, needing her.

So it was already hard enough mourning his unknown fate in a different way than everyone else because she knew him differently and more personally than anyone else, but then to also have to live with this strong gnawing feeling that he was out there needing her had to just add a whole other level of pain to the situation.

Michonne says, “Everyone thought I was crazy” and I was like - Rick, if you only knew the way so many of those people back home were not there for your wife during this time. 😔 Like so many members of team family were lacking in being the family she needed.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And it’s so sad to know that Michonne knew pretty much everyone thought she was crazy. But I love that she kept believing anyway because Richonne’s love is too strong to let any outside perspectives dim what she knows to be true about her and Rick’s connection.

She then says how while everyone else thought she was crazy Joycelyn encouraged her to keep looking. It just sucks that the reason she encouraged Michonne is because she’s actually psychotic and wanted to kidnap ASZ’s children. 😖 Like Joycelyn even tho you're long gone, please know...

Michonne then has a moment where she sighs and says, “I was 7 months pregnant.” 🥺 I’m glad she included that detail because it makes everything that happened in Scars extra egregious even tho it was already wildly egregious. Plus, you know it has to hit Rick to know that Michonne endured this during such a vulnerable time of being pregnant with his child just months after his disappearance.

This highlights Michonne's resilience but also has to wake Rick up to the fact that if he isn’t home with her, she’s still at risk of enduring really painful things. She'll just endure it alone and there’s no way he wants that.

Michonne finally turns to Rick and tells him, “She stole Judith and some other kids. She was sick, twisted. Did this to me and Daryl. We stopped her. I don’t want to go into how.” And it makes sense. For Michonne, what she had to do that day is clearly one of the most haunting and horrific things she’s ever experienced so I get that she doesn’t want to have to relive that right now.

But Rick does want to confirm one very important detail when he asks, “You killed her?”

Michonne assures him “Yes” and then this is when we see a flash of that Season 5 Rick because he looks at Michonne and says a very firm and affirming, “Good.” I love this. 🥲

gif cred: @notwithoutmycoffee

It’s clear Rick wants to go dig Joycelyn up and kill her again for the trauma he put his wife and children through.

I was like Michonne, maybe you should have told Rick that Joycelyn is still alive - because that would have had Rick in the car in 3 seconds ready to go home so he could finish the job lol. Tell me Rick wouldn't have hopped up off that bed like...

I love the protectiveness of the way he says "good." You know Rick would have done every dark thing Michonne had to do had he been there in that season 9 episode.

I remember in a s9 RIR post I wrote how part of why Michonne had to wrestle so much with what she had to do in taking out those kids was because she didn’t have Rick there to let her know it’s okay. Like how he had her there to let him know he was okay after his most traumatic act of killing someone with his teeth.

I knew had Rick learned of that Scars' situation he would be wholly supportive of Michonne and feel she was right to do what she did. And so it was nice to see exactly that at this moment in TOWL.

Now, I saw some viewers were upset that Rick doesn’t acknowledge Daryl in this scene...but Rick is hearing that his pregnant wife was branded and his daughter was kidnapped - that’s bound to be the priority for him right now. And it’s not for lack of love for Daryl, it's just there’s a time and place to address him and this wasn't it. Michonne is telling Rick about some of the deep-rooted trauma she’s carried during their years apart. That’s the focus for the two right now and that’s more than okay because...

Michonne looks so sad as she tells Rick, “I stopped looking for you.” And Rick looks sad but understanding as he nods upon hearing this.

It’s interesting how, despite having every reason to think she witnessed Rick blow up and die on that bridge, Michonne still tells him “I stopped looking for you” as like an apologetic confession. And I think that’s because they are so connected and she really was feeling his presence alive out there and so, even tho she had very valid reasons for why she stopped, she still feels sorry that she stopped looking for him when she knew in her heart he was findable.

Michonne says, “I had to take care of the baby. Take care of Judith.” And I’m just moved by this. 🥺 Because it wasn’t even like she stopped looking cuz she gave up or because she was too depressed to keep looking - no, it was cause she still had these important responsibilities to her young daughter and newborn. And she took such good care of her babies even amid her grief. 😭

I like that we see Rick’s watery-eyed reaction to hearing the mother of his children say that she had to take care of their kids. But even with having to stop looking, Michonne lets him know she never moved on from him.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Rick tends to think he’s someone people can just move on from but I love that through Michonne he constantly gets reminded of how treasured he is. She says, “But I kept believing that you were not gone forever.” Rick looks into her eyes and it’s like he’s getting yet another confirmation of what his dreams continually reminded him of - which is that Michonne wholeheartedly believes in him.

And then I love that she says, “I still believe that.” Even when it feels like her Rick might be gone, she still believes that he’s not gone forever. 🥹 Love it so much. She’s really honoring that 'believe a little longer' motto. 👌🏽

Rick silently looks in her eyes for a moment and this whole scene and episode really just feels like an exchange between two halves of one soul. The way they depict soulmates like no other is something to behold. 👏🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

And right now there’s this underlying complication because Rick has this guard up and yet every time he and Michonne look at each other he knows she can see right through his walls and is beckoning for him to finally let the guard down and express what’s really going on inside.

Rick starts to get dressed and it’s almost like feeling so figuratively bare before her makes him put on another layer. But they are soulmates so nothing can ever really stop her from seeing and knowing all of him.

gif cred: @nat111love

Michonne watches and turns toward him and when she looks down she can see his handless arm. For the most part that arm had always had the prosthetic but now she gets to reach down and touch it and the way she gently touches his arm is so precious. 🥺

I adore the parallel of both Rick and Michonne touching each other's scars that they both received during some of the most traumatic and hardest days of their life.

After enduring those things alone and in the name of love for each other and their kids, they now get to be here face to face and healing each other with their loving touch and care. 🥹

As Michonne touches his arm she says, “You did this to get away.” That has to really move her. Like knowing Rick was willing to cut off his own hand to get away immediately paints the picture of his determination and desperation to get home. And as crazy as that act of chopping off his own hand is, Michonne doesn’t look at him as crazy for it. They’re both intensely devoted to family so she gets it. 👌🏽

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick looks into her eyes and says, “It was the only way.” Michonne says, “You were trying to come home.” And Rick repeats, “I was trying to come home.” I like how he wants to assure her of that. Like while now he keeps saying he won’t go home, there was a time that Rick was fighting like hell to get home. And that’s part of why he’s so convinced he can’t make it home anymore - because of all the taxing thwarted attempts he's tried before.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love that Michonne says, “You’re still trying. I see it.” Even despite the BS, she knows Rick’s heart is still pulling him toward home. 🥲 His heart is pulling him toward her so that’s the same thing as pulling him toward home.

And again, it’s so effective for Michonne to just softly ask these questions and statements regarding Rick’s hand because one; it’s reminding him of what he most wanted and pursued in his past which was to go home and be with his wife and family. And two; it's reminding him how he should still go after what he most wants in the present too.

gif cred: @nat111love

I love how she stays comfortingly holding his arm as she reminds him, “You have the button. You could have hit it, Rick. You haven’t.” That’s a great point. I had forgot that he’s had access to the PRB ever since Michonne gave it to him earlier in the episode. Not pressing it definitely shows that he’s not nearly as eager to involve the CRM again like he claims.

gif cred: @nat111love

Then I love the dialogue with Michonne saying, “You say you can’t go home but I don’t think you can go back.” It’s said so tenderly and as always she’s absolutely right.

Seeing Michonne be there for Rick like this, it made me think about how Rick's past saw him needed as a provider but with Michonne he gets to feel needed and valued most of all as a person, as exactly who he is.

It’s why I think Michonne is the absolute best person to have rescued him because he needed to find himself again through someone who views his role not just as a protector/provider but as a true partner, equal, and love. She's the one who will always fight alongside him and fight for him the same way he does for her.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then y’all, cue my tears because Michonne then lovingly touches his handless arm and emotionally says, “I’m sorry for what they did to you.” 🥺 I have to pause and collect myself after that line. 😭

The way Michonne depicts a wife’s love is just something special. 🥹But also it’s so moving how this just feels like she's expressing from human to human that she feels for him and the pain he's been through.

And even tho Rick hasn’t yet told her exactly what the CRM did that has him so traumatized, in this moment you know Michonne can sense and feel what has yet to be expressed.

I love that Rick is loved on like this by this incredible woman. 🥹 She cares about him so much and after enduring a lot alone for years, I'm so glad Rick has his soulmate back. He needs her and her tender loving care desperately after going without any of this type of care for years.

gif cred: @nat111love

And again, the wording stands out because she knows that what is making him this way isn’t him but something done to him. They did something. And I love that she is continually trying to free Rick from the burden of thinking what he’s become is all his fault or a product of his failure when really he’s a traumatized captor of the CRM.

It's interesting because yes the Civic Republic/CRM didn’t deliberately torture Rick, in fact for many the place is a sanctuary, but they kept Rick from his family and therefore they put him through a fate worse than death. 😔

When Michonne offers him this sincere empathy, Rick looks at her and you can hear his shaky breathing come back a little bit. Again he’s being the most seen and loved that he’s been in nearly a decade and it’s like there’s this anxiousness because he knows there’s something he needs to open up about but he’s kept it inside for so long and so it seems overwhelming to open the floodgates. Especially when he’s still convinced that the best thing he can do is keep Michonne away from him and the ‘poison’ that’s over him due to the CRM.

gif cred: @nat111love

But fortunately, he’s with the one person who can always get him to be real no matter what and so that’s exactly what happens as this scene continues.

I truly appreciate this series of events for the touching way it allowed Richonne to address each other's literal scars and segway into addressing the even more painful invisible scars that they’ve got from having gone without each other all these years.

And if I thought the acting and dialogue were great already…it reached new heights of excellence in these following moments. 👏🏽😌

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.04 #RIR (38)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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genericpuff · 10 months ago

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the last few episodes of persephone moping around have felt like less of a self-reflective moment for her to grow and change and more rachel griping about criticism and surrounding herself with yes men

this isn't gonna be in any way a formal essay like my usual sort, more of a slam post honestly, so fair warning that i'm gonna be a little salty here

EPISODE 263 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!

but seriously, it's been a pity party of greek proportions because this constant "woe is me" shit with persephone that's constantly met with "no queeen you're amazing and perfect" has been going on for DAYS (real time and comic time)

literally every episode since the comic returned has had some segment of either persephone or hades (or both) being upsetti spaghetti over their current situation because oh nooo persephone made the deal with erebus and had to sacrifice something. even though they both knew that was gonna happen and yet she did it anyways. so she just continues to lock herself away in her mansion and spout adorkable quips while her husband, mother, and colleagues deal with the mess she caused.

and of course there's the constant inclusion of apollo spitting straight facts about persephone being a terrible queen and person, but of course because it's apollo saying it, it's not meant to be taken as gospel, essentially clapping back at the words of the critics who call out persephone for being a shitty and toxic protagonist by putting those words into the mouth of a literal rapist.

and yeah episode 263 had a lot of the same shit, to the point that you could literally swap out the names of the characters and the words they were speaking and it applies exactly to rachel and the corner she put herself in u.u it's been a thing for a while now that apollo has just felt like a mouthpiece for LO criticism but as mentioned by users within the subreddit during the discussion of this newest episode, it's never felt more apparent than now.

so yeah enjoy this satirical text edit of a sequence from the newest FP episode, which I honestly can't tell is meant to satirize the critical community or Rachel's reactions to the critical community because the weird reality this comic and its community exist in has just become that wack that it's hard to believe it's not directly from The Onion sometimes LMAO

-and as much as i find myself empathizing with the pressure that rachel is surely under right now - no one should have to be subject to the screeching howls of the peanut gallery - i can't help but be reminded of the memes and tweets she's put out that basically outright say "persephone is supposed to be celebrated for being a shitty person, if you can't handle her at her worst you don't deserve her at her best 💅"-

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-and how often she's ruined her own day looking for critical groups or people with the "wrong opinions" that were minding their own business, or how much she's stifled her own community's attempts to discuss the story openly by having her mods ban anyone with even so much as a question regarding persephone's integrity.

so yeah, as much as i can empathize with her from one creator to another that being under this amount of pressure and scrutiny must be immensely frustrating and exhausting, beyond that one similarity i just can't empathize or relate to this mindset of almost learned helplessness that's taken a firm grip over her writing. this is the story she wants to tell and by all means no one is entitled to make her stop, but if she's gonna keep using her greek myth "retelling" comic that's trying to be "feminist" as a mouthpiece for her own griping over criticisms that are largely on-point and justified - to the point of putting the words of her critics into the mouth of her token villain like she's playing some single player barbie doll "act out that fight that sounded cooler in your head" game - then she's gonna keep getting called out, full stop. i figured she didn't have any nose left to rip off in spite of her face but apparently not.

look, i get it, there are some opinions and behaviors within the critical community that even i'm not on board with. there are people who absolutely take shit too far on both sides of the fandom, and i think both sides need to do more to hold themselves accountable for how they interact with each other, the comic, and rachel herself. i make it a point to keep my shit in my own house, i'm not entitled to rachel's attention and frankly it's the last thing i want because i have a lot of fun here and i don't want that to be potentially ruined or dampened! but if you come into my house and complain about the decorating, then i legitimately don't know what to tell you. i used to love LO and i'm so sad for my past self knowing fully well they're not gonna be able to wholeheartedly enjoy this comic forever due to how manipulative and shitty the storytelling has become. a story that i once connected to as an AFAB who was a victim of assault and abuse and generational trauma.

if persephone being the true main villain in her own story was ever meant to be the point of Lore Olympus, then it's taken way, way too long to get to that point, and rachel herself definitely doesn't seem to be of the mindset that that's what she's become with all of her blasé meme'ing on a plot arc that she's still expecting us to take seriously. persephone was never a very complex character to begin with - being an easy self-insert for the audience and rachel to project themselves onto and relate to - but at least in the beginning she felt like she had so much legitimate potential, she was naive but put her best foot forward and clearly wanted to make a life for herself, made by herself.

now she's just mean. jaded and mean. dependent on the constant validation of others to the point of being manipulative. an absolute shell of a person who can only grow a spine when she's punching down on people weaker than her, completely incapable of standing up to the people who are a legitimate threat to her. it's not empowering, it's not subversive, it's just another pick me story about women pitting themselves against other women and never taking accountability for their own behavior, mistakes, and deliberate actions meant to hurt others, often teetering on the line of straight up narcissism all for the sake of a "boss babe" moment.

anyways, if you want an actual well-written and GOOD scene of an empathetic female protagonist struggling to find their footing in adulthood being called the fuck out for their learned helplessness behavior, go read Tamberlane, it tackles this topic much better through its main character who keeps using her brokenness as an excuse to never do better, it slaps and it's so real.

#the only thing i could possibly enjoy from these episodes is minthe coming forward #and leuce #and tori #other than that they're just a bunch of nothing #no plot #no yeehaw #just boohoo #and not even in the good way where you know the 'boohoo' is gonna lead to some good yeehaw #the shitty and toxic way where the 'boohoo' is a personality trait that everyone else has to bend themselves around #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #Instagram

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byhuenii · 4 months ago

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. 𖦹˙— She’s so bad it’s dangerous..

pairing chishiya x fem!reader

synopsis in which chishiya slowly realizes he is falling for arisu’s twin sister in the most non romantic spot every; a apocalyptic wasteland.

warnings usage of yn. implied twin sister. pretty short kinda a blurb but🤷‍♀️. THIS IS OLDD, 3rd person. fluff if you squint. freak-shiya. he’s such a weirdo..

authors note i’ve had this in my notes for so long HELPP, i was in japan recently and omw back i became actually obsessed with chishiya, sanji, basically just one piece and aib again..I ACTUALLY WENT TO THE 7 OF HEARTS GAME AND OMG it’s gorgeous, japan was so nice it made me fall in love with writing stories again

“so. how do i know i could trust you?” yn leaned on a wall arms crossed near her stomach, her eyes bright big boba like though that was contradictory to her demeanor.

chishiya whom yawned scratched his head titling it to the side, “you don’t trust me?” a sarcastic pout formed his chapped lips, rolling your eyes you licked your bottom lip while pressing them together. “i don’t owe you a reason chishiya, i just want to get out of here with my brother.”

“i’m trustworthy enough for you and your brother join kuina and i!…and usagi can join too sure” chishiya maintained your eye contact sticking his hand out for you to shake it. you looked at his hand glancing back to his eyes giving him an annoyed look. “i don’t trust you once again so no. but since you saved my brother,” you heaved a sigh “i’ll join.” you shook his hand before pulling it away giving him a flat smile.

arisu seemed nervous yet ecstatic he didn’t know how much longer he could last at this so called beach, usagi just wanted to go home no surprise. “i guess.. we’ll meet you at your room tomorrow and discuss plans” usagi smiled at kuina and chishiya before turning around on her heels walking closer to you.

kuina and chishiya watched as the three of you walked away, telling from your body language it’ll take him a lot more to earn you and your trust. he liked that for some reason, what kind of issues did you have? why did he like that? something is definitely wrong with him.

“well that went whats the word..Fabulous!” kuina empathized the Fab in a sarcastic tone. chishiya stuffed his hands in his pockets giving small nods. “i’m going to play a game tonight, i’m running low on time.” he walked ahead of kuina, kuina furrowed hee brows in confusion he just did a game yesterday..

⊱☆⊰

that game was dreadful annoying and muscle inducing. for a spades game that felt like so much work—the card you guys already had so it was pointless. frustrated you harshly run your hands through your hair groaning outloud, god you just wanted to leave this damn hell hole. “you know what my little ladybug!” a low cheery voice rumbled the empty lobby.

rolling your eyes you had already knew who it was and you didn’t even want to deal with him right now, just the cherry on top of a beautiful ice cream sundae, “what do you want fleabag.”

“i think you put up this whole facade.” his hands were stuffed in his pocket. the hood of his hoodie rested on his head as his hair rested out, an earnest scoff left your lips. the scoffed turned into a laugh.

chishiya felt his stomach do a little tingle, it felt like butterflies were flying all over the place, how could he find a laugh so attractive? “you’ve never been so wrong in your life fleabag. i don’t put on no facade.” your voice was a sweet but harshly bitter,

chishiya just had a lipped smirk. he knew he somewhat got under your skin and it was kinda hot. “this ‘facade’ you say i’m having is just me, it’s me only caring for my brother and i getting out of this jail.” you put your fingers up in air quotes.

“so if you excuse me i would enjoy my rest before i have to deal with those stupid speeches you executives have to tell us.” you finally took a deep breath, you turned on your heels to leave but you let a huff escape your dry lips facing back towards the hooded man.

you had almost forgot about the card in your hand, 5 of spades. it was useless, “i forgot i had this. here, your stupid card” you gave him the crumbled up card. huffing you walked back to your empty room.

chishiya had been smiling like a mad man, he doesn’t think you realized. well he didn’t care. his heart was thumping, he felt his ears get hot. the slightest touch from you sent his body into this trance, and hell it wasn’t even a hug it was graze of the fingertips because she was mad and handed him the card.

it’s safe to say chishiya went to kuina’s room to tell her and recap the whole conversation with you, if you could even call it a conversation. his ears were still tainted red. maybe he was into you.

#w.riting ‹𝟹 ‎scripts #— prim’s ☆ wildest dreams!#chishiya x reader #chishiya fanfic #aib chishiya #chishiya imagine #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya #chishiya smau

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a-simple-imagine · 1 year ago

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Help! My Girlfriend just Fell Down The Alt - Right Supe Supremist Pipeline pt.2

Requested by anonymous: “could you write a cate hurt/comfort where unlike andre's coward ass u actually fix her 🫶 pls and tyy”

Pairing: Cate Dunlap x fem!reader

Words: 1.3k+

A/N - turned this request into part 2 of my other cate story because i'm obsessed with the idea of cate dating an empath. you don’t have to read the first part

WARNINGS - mention of murder, death and blood

PREV //

it's a bright sunny day but the air is polluted with the rich taste of fear; a chaotic blend of fear and anger. you don't know what to do. where to go. you thought you left this behind when you ran. your head aches. heart hammering in your chest. all around you students and faculty scramble in search of safety. Bodies litter the ground. blood drowns the lush green grass. and you are powerless to stop it. useless. this school housed so many heroes but your powers were far from useful. you're almost frozen in time. this very spot on the godu campus, your newfound home. waiting. waiting for the inevitable moment someone notices and you end up just another casualty.

it's so hard to focus with the swirling emotions that invade your head. every inch of your body burned with other people's pain. everyone was feeling so much; too much. it hurt. it felt like your brain might explode. you kinda wish it would. but despite it all your eyes settle on familiar blonde hair. beautiful blue eyes stained deep red. Cate. you had left so abruptly. perhaps you should be more apprehensive right now. but you feel no ill intentions.

"h-hey," it's a pathetic murmur restrained by the pounding in your head. She was your girlfriend and you could hardly say a word. You're not even sure what you could say to rectify this. murdering dean Shetty was one thing. a sad attempt at vengeance. it was hard enough to ignore but this? this came across as insane. this was too much. you had told the others you would deal with Cate not because you actually thought you could help but because you were scared of what they would do. Cate was public enemy one on the campus today.

"I've been looking for you," there's a tenderness to her voice. a softness she reserved for you; especially right now. her emotions are hard to shift through when mixed with so many others. too many others. but a deep anger settles over you. you know it's not directed at you. it's fighting with a desire to have you understand her point of view.

"you have to stop this cate," if only it was that straightforward. if words were enough this wouldn't have happened. you wouldn't have to beg your girlfriend to stop her lethal rampage. even if she physically was not the one killing. it's a weird position to be in. one that fills your stomach with a bottomless darkness pit... or maybe that was just the scene before you. either way, you felt nauseated.

"we're actually getting somewhere," there was an overwhelming weariness to her voice. She was clearly exhausted; struggling to stand straight as she clarified her frustration. you knew well the toll her powers took. that pang of fear every time you've watched her overdo it. you wonder how many people she has pushed into doing her bidding. how much her brain must hurt. how much she needs to rest. even how many people are dying under her authority. "people need to know what was going on here. We aren't just lab rats for Vought- we deserve respect."

"I agree," a flicker of surprise almost sends the blonde tumbling to the ground. "we deserve respect but this isn't how to get it. just stop and we can- we can figure this out." it takes everything in you to risk a step closer. pinpointing her feelings amongst the rest. it was a hazy feeling; tingly almost. you couldn't quite decipher what belonged to who still.

"Why can't you see that this is the only way," she implores. "it's the only way they'll listen."

"it's not worth it Cate," you express. "you're hurting innocent people-"

"they're not innocent." she snarls. Red-hot anger bursts through your veins. your jaw tenses. fist clenched. "you heard what Shetty said. they think we're freaks. they hate us-" You don't want to think about Shetty; you couldn't. it was too much. too taxing. the blood. so much blood. so much bitterness. an unsteady breath pushes its way past your lips.

"you're hurting me, Cate," you bark; fuelled by Cate's fear. her emotions were taking over. driving you forward. "all these emotions- all this fear. my head is on fire. it's too much. I can't- I can't handle it."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, dragging her eyes away. almost like she was unable to bear looking at the suffering she was causing. "I know this is hard for you, I wish it didn't have to be but this is the only way. I'm protecting us. I'm protecting you." you didn't need to be a mind reader to know Cate's intentions. her misguided desire for retribution. more fuelled by revenge for how she has been treated than a will to help people. she's explained it all already.

"Cate..." her name slips tenderly from your lips; biting back her fire that's burning inside. "I don't need protecting. I just- I need you." your desperate now. desperate for the pain to stop. for Cate to give up this crazy crusade. you wanted to go back to how things were. you wanted to hold her hand as you walked across campus to class each morning. wanted to surprise her with a cupcake after a hard day. cuddle up in bed while you watch the cheesiest movie known to man just because she enjoyed it. you wanted normal. you deserved that. you all did. "we can figure this out. I promise we can- just give me a chance." you continue. "I don't wanna lose you." you know she's hesitant by the way her eyes flicker to you and then away again. searching for a reason to deny you. to push you away further. her anger was no longer a raging fire but a muted flame as your words settled over her. "please," expressed softly. "we can get through this together." she could read your mind. She must know you are being genuine.

"Okay," the blonde mumbles, finally meeting your gaze. such pretty eyes even stained with abuse of power. "yeah," she nods a little; holding out her hand. you pause. it would mark a sign of trust. She didn't have her glove which meant that there was a possibility this was just a trick. if you take her hand she could make you do whatever she wanted. she could push you into believing her philosophy. She could kill you if she wanted. surely she wouldn't though? your girlfriend had never used her powers on you. She used to be all about consent. but you also thought she wasn't capable of murder and look at how that turned out. she was probably in your head listening. could hear your doubt. you watch a sadness wash over her face as she retracts her peace offering and in a panic, you roughly grab her hand. it's unexpected even by you. but you couldn't give up on her. you loved Cate, you wanted to trust her. you needed to trust that she was still good.

"I trust you" blurted out loudly. drowning in her anger. in her pain and fear. it's all so much. your legs buckle and it takes significant effort to stay upright. there is a glimpse of something unexplained in her eyes. Cate was the most important person to you. you struggle to watch your paths diverge before you have a chance to tell her your feelings. She probably knew. there was no hiding with Cate. not anymore. but she couldn't hide from you either. you can feel everything. our emotions expose true intentions. and even amongst all the dread, there was a warmth radiating through now like the sun breaking through dark clouds. She held bright feelings for you. you could feel her passion radiating.

"you... trust me?" Cate asks. her voice quiet. unsure.

"I trust you," you give her hand a gentle squeeze. "I just wanna help you- let me help you."

her eyes search yours for a moment before arms are wrapped around your shoulders and Cate falls against you. you stumble back under the weight of her body; the weight of her emotions. but you still hold on tight. chasing that beautifully warm feeling. "just me and you."

"Always," whispered softly.

#cate dunlap #gen v #the boys #cate dunlap x reader #jordan li

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effloradox · 1 year ago

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I’m slightly obsessed with this vampire cowboy if you couldn’t tell 😅

Being the baby in a family of vampires is a difficult position to hold. You're not a baby by any means, you're in your thirties by now, but compared to the patriarch of your new family who is over three hundred years older than you, the other vampires dwarf your time on this planet. You know that this life is a blessing, that without it you'd be long dead by now, but it still stings having your age used against you in practically every family discussion.

Carlisle has more sympathy for your age difference but Edward is the worst for it. He's only seventy years older than you and yet you'd think he was seven hundred years older from the way he acts. You can't help the fact that people born in the same year as you are still alive and well, it's not like you can make time pass quicker and yet your adoptive brother seems to take great delight in pulling rank over you in any discussions about the future of the coven. Knowing he can read your thoughts of frustration does nothing to help the situation either.

Jasper knows it bothers you. He was still fairly new to the coven when you were turned, so whilst he's older than Edward he doesn't have the same position in the coven. It doesn't bother him as much since he outlives Edward, but he understand your frustrations. One of the perks of his abilities is knowing when you're reaching the end of your patience so he can quickly intervene with the suggestion of getting out of the house if only for a while so you can calm down.

It's almost a tradition at this point that not long after a move, the two of you will seek out some private spot far from the new house, far from the new town, that will become your spot for the duration of your time in whatever new place the coven has moved to.

As far as your limited experience goes, Forks seems to be a fairly nice town. Nothing like the small English town you lived in when you were human, but it's nice. It rains almost constantly, which is a nice feeling of being back home, and the people seem more than friendly enough. Carlisle had mentioned you having your tour of the high school in the upcoming days once enough time had passed for the family to have 'settled in'. The only thing you'd actually done upon arriving in town was choosing a bedroom for you and Jasper and immediate heading out to find your new spot.

Carlisle had warned you about not breaking the treaty he had formed with the Quileutes but aside from that, you and Jasper had been given free reign. It still hurt when the last thing you'd heard before you left the house was yet another snide remark from Edward about needing to baby proof the house before the two of you returned. You'd stopped running after maybe twenty minutes, and this was definitely not going to be your spot, but Jasper got the impression you needed time to process the past rather than look to the future.

"Do you think he'll always treat me like that?" You question makes Jasper pause for a moment as he considers his response. He lets his eyes drift over the small clearing the two of you are sat in before his gaze falls back to you.

"I hope not darlin'." His words do nothing to stop the ache in your chest and he knows it. He can tell from the defeated look on your face and the way your emotions flicker across your face. He doesn't need to be an empath to know how much this tirade is starting to bother you.

"Alice said that he'd stop with time, but I don't think I can spend another thirty years listening to him be so condescending about me." The mention of your precognitive sibling makes Jasper pause. For her to have a vision of something so specific would be unusual from what he's discerned over the years.

"Did Alice see something about him stopping?" You shrug lightly, pulling your knees close to your chest.

"Not necessarily. She said she saw something big happening whilst we're here that will make him stop but that could be years away." Jasper lets out a quiet noise of consideration at your words. Alice had been having more frequent visions since you'd all moved, maybe something big was on the horizon. Last time she'd had this many was just before you'd come into their lives.

"I can ask Carlisle to speak to him if you want." You take a moment to consider his offer before shaking your head lightly.

"I think that would just make him do it more out of spite. Thank you though." You outstretch a hand to him that he's more than willing to take. Even after over a decade of being together, it never fails to fill him with joy how perfectly your hand fits in his. Like you were made for him, or he was made for you. Maybe both. It certainly feels that way when you look at him with a smile that could rival the moon for how beautiful it is.

"You want to head somewhere new?" You nod at him and allow him to help you to your feet. Even now you're both standing your hands are still entwined and he smiles as he feels you squeeze his hand gently.

"Lead the way cowboy."

#my writing #drabbles #jasper cullen x reader #jasper hale x reader #twilight x reader

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theetherealbloom · 3 months ago

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THE SILVER LINING - CH. 6

Chapter Six: Show Me Where To Find The Silver Lining

Summary: After aiding the Republic and the fall of the Empire, you left the Jedi Training Clan on Bogden 3 to help families needing medical care with the call of the Force. You are a kind, warm-hearted healer on Nevarro, treating the citizens and the bounty hunters. Imperial remnants still linger in the shadows, waiting to strike at the perfect moment. Leading you to assist the Mandalorian with rescuing the Child has led you to your biggest adventure yet.

Paring: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive!FemReader (Empath)

Warnings: Violence, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, People pleasing, Flattery, Blood, Blasters, War, Religion References, Aliens, Sith, Character Deaths, Awkward, Plot Holes, Flying, Lava, Character Death, Jetpacks, Canon-Typical violence,

Word Count: 11.3k

A/N: I know… I know… I took so long to update this PLS– I went through several revisions for this… idk this episode just gave me insane writers block for some reason??? Like help???

Song: Home by Good Neighbours

Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

NEVARRO CANTINA, 9ABY – NOON

You find yourself caught in a tense balance between desperation and determination, surrounded by stormtroopers. Gripping your lightsaber hilt tightly, you stand ready to ignite it at a moment's notice. However, with no backup in sight, the odds of fighting your way out seem insurmountable.

"Is there another way out?" Cara queries Greef Karga, her eyes scanning the perimeter for any possible escape routes.

Greef gestures toward the outside, where stormtroopers are closing in. "No, that's it," he replies grimly.

Din interjects with a suggestion. "What about the sewers?"

Greef Karga's brows knit in confusion. "Sewers?"

"The Mandalorians have a covert down in the sewers. If we can get down there, they can help us escape," Din explains, seeking a potential exit strategy.

"Yeah, sewers are good," Cara agrees, nodding in approval.

You observe as Din manipulates a few buttons on his left armor bracer, causing it to emit a low hum as his visor begins scanning for access points. After a moment, he announces, "Checking for access points."

"What the hell are they waiting for?" Cara mutters, peering outside once more. Through the broken windows, you catch sight of stormtroopers assembling a heavy repeating blaster. Cara's breath catches, "Hold up. They're setting up an E-Web."

"It's over," Greef Karga remarks, a hint of fear evident in his voice.

Din's visor chimes, and he declares, "I found the sewer vent."

"Let's get the hell out of here," Cara urges, moving swiftly. You follow closely behind as she and Din begin tearing apart the furniture, revealing the sewer vent hidden beneath a seat.

The three of you struggle to pry open the sewer vent's panel, emitting frustrated groans as each attempt proves futile.

"It's assembled! How long until that thing's cleared?" Greef Karga's urgency fills the air.

"Blow it," Cara directs Din, her tone commanding.

"I'm out of charges," Din responds, prompting Cara to gesture towards him while she retrieves her heavy blaster. "Get out of the way!" she orders, attempting to blast open the sewer vent without success. Frustration mounts as she hits the unyielding metal gate.

"Your astute panic suggests that you understand your situation," the voice from outside remarks ominously. "I would prefer to avoid any further violence and encourage a moment of consideration."

"Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster. If you are unfamiliar with this weapon, I am sure that Republican Shock Trooper Carasynthia Dune of Alderaan will advise you that she has witnessed many of her ranks vaporize mid-descent facing the predecessor of this particular model," the Imperial Officer adds with malice.

"Or perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin," the Imperial Officer's voice resonates with a tone of menace as he utters Din's name. Din takes a subtle step closer to you, his presence offering a silent reassurance amidst the tension. The officer continues, recounting the horrors of the Siege of Mandalore, where gunships armed with devastating ordnance wreaked havoc upon fields of Mandalorian recruits during the Night of a Thousand Tears.

"Or your Force-sensitive medic who wields a lightsaber," the officer's voice takes on a sinister edge as he delves into your past, revealing the painful truth of your master's abandonment. "Her Master had abandoned her, deeming her too dangerous for her own good. Betrayed by false promises of danger, she was cast aside, left to navigate the galaxy alone, while her Master chose another apprentice." The words cut deep, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you, shame mingling with the ache of betrayal.

You avert your gaze from Din, Cara, and Greef Karga, unable to bear the heaviness of their curious stares. Shame grips your heart, its tendrils clawing at your soul, as the truth of your past is laid bare for all to see.

"I advise disgraced Magistrate Greef Karga to heed the wisdom of his years," the officer's voice echoes through the tense silence, urging surrender. "Lay down your arms and come outside. The structure you are trapped in will be razed shortly, and your storied lives will meet an unceremonious end."

"What do you propose?" Greef Karga's voice holds a hint of skepticism as he humors the Imperial Officer.

"Reasonable negotiation," the officer replies, his tone dripping with calculated confidence. Greef scoffs loudly at the notion, prompting him to question, "What assurance do you offer?"

The officer's response is chillingly blunt. "If you're asking if you can trust me, you cannot. Just as you betrayed our business arrangement, I would gladly break any promise and watch you die at my hand. The assurance I give is this: I will act in my own self-interest, which at this time involves your cooperation and benefit. I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire." With those words, he turns and departs, leaving behind a tense silence.

You release a small sigh of relief, though you know it won't last long. There's the ominous menace of the E-Web cannon lingering over you, a constant reminder of how vulnerable you are.

"I say we hear him out," Greef Karga suggests, his tone cautious yet open to the possibility. Cara, meanwhile, shakes her head as she gathers blasters from the fallen stormtroopers scattered across the floor. "The minute we open that door, we're dead," she asserts firmly.

"We're dead if we don't. At least out there, we've got a shot," Greef counters, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of advantage.

Cara remains resolute. "That's easy for you to say. I'm a Rebel Shock Trooper. They'll upload me to a Mind Flayer."

Greef dismisses her concern with a hint of skepticism. "Those aren't real. That was just wartime propaganda."

"I don't care to find out. I'm shooting my way out of here," Cara declares, determination etched in her features.

Turning to you and Din, Greef seeks your input. "What about you two, Mando?"

"I know who he is. It's Moff Gideon," Din asserts, his voice carrying a sound of certainty. You furrow your brow in concern at the mention of the name. Cara freezes in disbelief. "No. Moff Gideon was executed for war crimes."

"It's him. He knew my name," Din explains, his expression grave.

"So? What does that prove?" Greef queries, searching for clarity amidst the confusion.

Your frown deepens as unsettling memories resurface. "I haven't heard that name spoken since I was a child," Din reflects, his tone distant as if retracing fragments of his past.

"On Mandalore?" Greef probes, seeking to understand.

"I was not born on Mandalore," Din reveals, his words tinged with a sense of identity and purpose.

"But you're a Mandalorian," Greef counters, puzzled by the revelation.

"Mandalorian isn't a race," you interject, offering clarification. Din echoes your sentiment. "It's a Creed."

You turn to Din, who stands motionless, his emotions noticeable even without words. Through the Force, you sense the silver streaks of his emotions deepening into a darker shade of grey. His sadness is tangible, a heavy burden weighing on his shoulders. Every ounce of anger and resentment he harbors towards the Empire, towards the droids that razed his village, his home, and his family, is laid bare. You feel the pressure of his baggage and brokenness, the scaffolding of his inner strength straining to support his weary frame.

Blinking, you find yourself immersed in his memories, transported to the horrors of Din's past. The air is thick with the acrid scent of blaster fire and the piercing screams of civilians. You witness the onslaught of battle droids affiliated with the Separatist Alliance during the Clone Wars, their relentless assault claiming innocent lives. Amidst the chaos, Din's parents shield him in a small bunker before succumbing to the explosion that engulfs them.

Tears stream down your face as you watch the young Din, his fear palpable as he braces for the end, only to be saved by a Mandalorian Clan.

"I was a foundling. They raised me in the Fighting Corps," Din's voice breaks through the haze of memories, bringing you back to the present. "I was treated as one of their own. When I came of age, I was sworn to the Creed. The only record of my family name was in the registers of Mandalore. Moff Gideon was an ISB Officer during the purge. That's how I know it's him. That's how he knows who we all are," Din explains.

Standing there, frozen in place, a myriad of questions race through your mind. How did you manage to delve into Din's memories? Every detail felt so vivid, so real. Tears continue to cascade down your face, overwhelmed by both his emotions and your own.

“Cyar’ika?” Din's voice breaks through the haze, distant yet urgent as your head throbs with pain.

A sob escapes your lips, tears welling in your eyes. "You were just a child,” you manage to choke out in your turmoil.

Din approaches, his hands gentle as they settle on your shoulders. You gasp for breath, hyperventilating as sobs wrack your body. "You were a child, scared and alone," you ramble, the words tumbling out incoherently. "I felt it all—your fear, your anger. It consumed you like wildfire, and—”

Din speaks your name softly, his gloved hand lifting your chin to meet his gaze through the visor. Tear-stained and with puffy eyes, you sob as your eyes meet his. He tenderly wipes away your tears, his touch comforting as you lean into it, placing your hand atop his.

"I'm sorry," you manage to choke out amidst the tears.

"It's not…" Din reassures you gently.

You sniffle, "I'm sorry you were alone. That you had to endure all of that by yourself."

His stomach tightens, a knot forming as he observes your distress. Underneath his helmet, his jaw clenches, a familiar frown settling on his face underneath his helmet. He's realized that he dislikes seeing you cry, feeling powerless to solve the problems that cause your tears.

Pulling you close, he envelops you in his arms as you tremble, offering a gentle shushing sound to soothe you. "It was like you were there in my mind and memories—" he begins, his voice soft.

You sniffle, attempting to regain your composure. "Yeah... I… I’m not sure what that was," you admit, shaking your head. "Never mind. We'll deal with that later. Right now, we should focus on getting out of here."

Din reluctantly releases you and takes a step back, addressing the group. "He says he needs us, which means the child got away safely," he informs them. "I was worried when the Ugnaught didn't respond, but if they'd captured the kid, we'd already be dead."

Cara nods and says to Din, “Hail them again.”

"Come in, Kuiil. Kuiil?" Din's voice echoes into the comlink, but there's no response. He shakes his head in frustration. "Nothing."

"They might have jammed the signal," Cara suggests, retrieving her heavy repeating blaster from across the room. Meanwhile, Greef Karga takes a swig from a blue drink.

Suddenly, the comlink beeps, and the sound of the Child cooing fills the room. Then, the mechanical voice of IG-11 follows. "Kuiil has been terminated."

Din's voice grows stern and accusing as he speaks into the comlink. "What did you do?"

"I am fulfilling my primary function," IG-11 responds calmly.

"And what is that?" Din demands.

"To nurse and protect," IG-11 declares with unwavering resoluteness.

A few moments later, the distant sounds of troopers screaming and blaster fire fill the air. "Look!" Cara exclaims, prompting you to peek out through the window. Outside, you witness IG-11 riding through the streets of the settlement, swiftly taking down stormtroopers with his twin blasters. Even a pair of troopers haggling with a local Jawa are not spared from his onslaught. With precision and speed, IG-11 fights his way through Gideon's troops, throwing a speeder bike at them and causing a massive explosion.

"Cover me," Din commands Cara, who responds by shooting through the broken window, taking out more stormtroopers with her repeating blaster. Chaos unfolds all around you, the cacophony of heavy blaster fire echoing throughout Nevarro.

Following Din out of the cantina's door as it hisses open, you find yourself amid the action. Din swiftly disarms a nearby stormtrooper, taking him down with a precise shot through the helmet. You trail closely behind him, activating your lightsaber. Its purple glow commands attention, causing some stormtroopers to hesitate in shock, which you seize upon.

You and Greef Karga join the fray, swiftly dispatching several death troopers. Despite sustaining a hit to his leg, IG-11 valiantly protects the Child and guides it to safety. Meanwhile, Din skillfully operates the E-web heavy repeater blaster cannon, eliminating multiple stormtroopers with deadly accuracy.

A death trooper detonates an explosive, blowing open the cantina's door. Swarms of death troopers flood in, but Cara skillfully guns them down, buying precious moments.

Your attention is drawn to Moff Gideon cornering the Mandalorian, firing a shot that grazes his shoulder. You cry out, "Din!"

Before you can reach him, Moff Gideon aims at a nearby box of ammunition, setting off a powerful explosion. The blast sends you flying backward, your ears ringing from the force. With a shriek, you scramble to your feet, dodging blaster fire with your lightsaber as you rush to the Mandalorian's side. He lies motionless, wounded and vulnerable.

Cara lends you a hand as you haul Din's injured form into the cantina, seeking refuge. With a determined tone, she reassures him, "Stay with me, buddy. We're getting you out of here."

Together, you carefully lay him down in a safe spot, your heart heavy with worry. "Din, please... Hang on," you plead softly, fighting back tears.

Din lets out a weak whimper, and you clutch his gloved hand tightly, offering what comfort you can. "We'll get you out of here, I promise," you vow, hearing Greef persuade IG-11 to aid in their escape by unsealing the grate.

Despite his pain, Din shifts his helmeted gaze to you, his voice strained as he says, "I won't make it. Go."

Tears blur your vision as you shake your head, refusing to accept the inevitable. "No, you'll be fine. We'll get through this," you sob out, your voice quivering with emotion.

Din's voice is strained as he insists, "Leave me." The warmth of his blood seeps through his helmet as you pull back your trembling hand, stained red. But you refuse to give up, determined to save him.

With shaky hands, you reach for the sides of his helmet. "I need to take your helmet off," you say, your voice heavy with urgency.

Din's grip tightens on your wrists as he protests, "No. Leave me. Keep the child safe, Cyar'ika."

Desperation fills your voice as you try to reason with him, "Din, I—" But he cuts you off, his tone firm and resolute.

"No. I don't… want this to be how you see me for the first time," he murmurs, his words strained with pain.

You don't care about appearances; all you want is to keep him alive. "I don't care. I just need you," you plead, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Din reaches for his mythosaur necklace and hands it to you. "Take this," he says weakly. "Show it to the Mandalorian covert. Tell them it's from Din Djarin. You and the foundling were under my protection. They'll help you."

"We can make it. We have to make it… you can't leave me too… please… Din… Let me heal you," you sobbed out, your voice choked with emotion as you held onto him, your frame trembling.

Suddenly, a red-striped incinerator trooper, armed with a flamethrower, approaches the cantina, setting the furniture ablaze through the broken window. With determination, you throw yourself atop Din, shielding him from the flames, before turning back to look at him.

"Oh, Ner cyar'ika," Din murmurs, cupping your face with his gloved hand. You lean into his touch, seeking comfort in his presence.

"I'm not gonna make it, and you know it," Din admits, his voice heavy with resignation. "You protect the child. I can hold them back long enough for you to escape. Let me have a warrior's death."

The finality of his words sends a pang of sorrow through you. "I won't leave you," you protest, your voice wavering.

"This is the Way," Din asserts, his gaze steady behind his visor. You meet his eyes, unable to find the right words to express your emotions. Pressing your forehead against his beskar helmet, you hold onto his gloved hand, which caresses the side of your cheek.

You kiss the small patch of exposed skin on his wrist, feeling the gravity of the moment. Din takes a shaky breath before saying, "Ner cyar'ika, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum."

Before you could even ask what he was saying, the incinerator trooper strides into the cantina, but the Child reacts swiftly, harnessing the Force to deflect the flames back at the trooper, forcing him to retreat. You witness the surge of power emanating from the Child, and instinctively extend your own hand, aiding in redirecting the flames away from your group.

As the trooper is driven back, the Child's tiny form slumps in exhaustion, overwhelmed by the effort. Just then, IG-11 kicks open the grate, signaling an opportunity for escape as the flames around you is all consuming and melting.

“Come on! It's open, let's go!” Greef Karga's urgent voice echoes through the chaos.

“Go. Cy’are, go,” Din insists, his tone heavy with resolve.

“We have to move! Now!” Greef Karga urges, as IG-11 helps clear the way, lifting the Child with care.

You remain rooted in place, torn between staying with Din and fleeing to safety. The metallic footsteps of IG-11 approach, and the droid's voice breaks through the turmoil. “Escape and protect this child. I will stay with the Mandalorian,” it declares, passing the sleeping Child into your arms.

Meeting the droid's gaze, you plead, “Promise me you'll bring him. Please.”

“You have my word,” IG-11 assures you, and you exchange a final glance with Din. With a heavy heart, you press your forehead to his helmet and whisper, “I need you. Maker, I want you, please… come back to me.”

Before he can respond, Cara pulls you away, guiding you into the tunnels below alongside Greef Karga, the force of uncertainty settling heavily upon you.

Din's mind drifts, overwhelmed by the scorching heat and his own exhaustion. In his haze, he sees IG-11 approaching, a stark reminder of his past and the deep-rooted trauma it carries. Through the chaos, thoughts of you, his beloved Cyar'ika, provide a fleeting sense of solace. Objects tumble in the inferno's blaze, a testament to the chaos engulfing them.

“Do it,” Din gruffly commands, his head throbbing from the impact, blood trickling down his neck.

“Do what?” IG-11 inquires, its mechanical voice cutting through the loud burning flames surrounding them.

“Just get it over with. I'd rather you kill me than some Imp,” Din asserts, his words tinged with bitter honesty. Once, he would have faced this without hesitation. But you changed everything, and now his only regret is not kissing you, not feeling the warmth of your lips against his.

“I told you. I am no longer a hunter. I am a nurse droid,” IG-11 states.

“IGs are all hunters,” Din grumbles, his frustration evident.

The droid pauses before responding, “Not this one. I was reprogrammed. I need to remove your helmet if I am to save you.”

Din's grip tightens on his blaster, his voice dripping with threat, “Try it and I'll end you.” He struggles to breathe, teeth clenched, “It is forbidden. No living thing has seen me without my helmet since I swore the Creed.”

"I am not a living thing," IG-11 states plainly, the truth evident in his words.

With a hiss and a click, the mechanical hands of the IG-11 droid lift Din's helmet. His heart beats heavily in his chest as he awaits what comes next.

"This is a bacta spray. It will heal you in a matter of hours," IG-11 explains as it sprays the upper part of Din's head. "You have suffered damage to your central processing unit."

"You mean my brain?" Din quips.

IG-11 tilts its head. "That was a joke. It is meant to put you at ease."

Din stifles a chuckle. In that moment, he realizes he still has hope. Despite his weariness and desire to depart, he closes his eyes briefly, thinking of you. The thought of needing you pushes him forward. Determined, he knows no grave can hold his body down; he'll find a way back to you, whatever it takes.

There is so much love in your body that you can't hold it in; it pours from your eyes and spills from your skin. As you cradle the Child closer to your chest, muffled explosions echo from above.

An ache settles between your ribs—a yearning for a different destiny and the resilience to keep hoping for a better outcome. You cling to the hope that Din will be alright.

A louder explosion echoes through the tunnels, causing you, Greef Karga, and Cara Dune to spin around. Cara’s flashlight cuts through the darkness, revealing the source of the noise. The heavy footsteps draw closer, and soon, you spot IG-11’s silhouette—along with the glimmer of silver beskar you’ve come to cherish so deeply.

Without thinking, you rush forward, your heart pounding as you reach Din. He’s still unsteady, clearly feeling the effects of his concussion, but he’s alive. Relief floods your chest as you pass the Child to IG-11, and you throw your arms around Din’s neck, tears streaming down your face.

“Oh, thank the Maker,” you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion.

His arms wrap around your waist, his leather gloves squeezing you tightly as if grounding himself in your presence. You slide one arm over your shoulder, determined to help him walk.

“I got you,” you murmur, holding him close as you guide him through the dimly lit tunnels.

As you continue down the darkened tunnels, Din leans heavily against you, each step a struggle against the pain that wracks his body. Greef Karga glances around, uncertainty evident in his voice as he asks, "Do you know which way to go?"

Din grunts in response, his voice strained. "No. I don't know these tunnels. I've only entered from the bazaar." His words are clipped, every syllable laced with discomfort.

Greef Karga presses on, trying to find a solution. "Well, if we get the smell of sulfur and follow it, it'll lead us up to the plains where the river flows."

Din's voice cuts through the dark, gruff and insistent. "And the Imps will catch us before we make it to the ship. We need the Mandalorians to escort us to safety."

Your group presses on, delving deeper into the labyrinth of tunnels with each step. The air grows thicker, and the walls seem to close in as the tension between you mounts.

"Ugh, this place is a maze," Cara groans, her voice filled with frustration as she surveys the endless twists and turns.

"Stop. I can stand," Din says, his voice firm despite the strain. He removes his arm from your shoulder, and you give him a hopeful look, noticing the determination in his voice. IG-11 assesses his condition and confirms, "The bacta infusion is working."

Din nods, his determination solidifying. "I'll try to find tracks." He moves forward, the beam of light from his helmet cutting through the darkness. His gaze is focused, scanning the ground carefully. Then, he spots something and points to the left, leading the group as he says, "We're close. Turn here."

The group follows Din's lead, the tunnel narrowing as the beam of light from the flashlights dances across the walls. As you round the corner, a chilling dread settles deep in your bones. The covert lies ahead, but instead of the safety you hoped for, you’re greeted by a harrowing sight—helmets and armor, scattered and lifeless, marking the final resting place of countless fallen Mandalorians.

Din’s steps falter as he enters the covert, his helmet’s light switching off with a click. The darkness seems heavier here, pressing in on him from all sides. Slowly, warily, he moves forward, his exhaustion evident in every sluggish step. Kneeling beside the fallen, his head bows in silent mourning.

He reaches out, picking up one of the broken helmets, its once-proud beskar now marred and empty. You see it in waves of dark grey and sharp silver, a storm of anger and grief brews within him, coiling tightly in his stomach, a heavy silence hanging in the air around him.

You kneel beside him, your presence a tentative but necessary comfort. Din grasps your hand, holding on as if it’s the only thing keeping him from being swallowed by the void. His fingers tighten around yours, the touch grounding him, allowing him to feel something—anything—beyond the pain and loss.

Cara steps forward, her voice calm but insistent. "We should go."

Din's response is immediate, his voice low and gravelly, tinged with grief and fury. "You go. Take the ship. I can't leave it this way." His head snaps to the side, anger flaring as he locks eyes with Greef Karga through his vizor. "Did you know about this? Is this the work of your bounty hunters?"

Greef Karga scoffs, shaking his head. "No. When you left the system and took the prize, the fighting ended, and the hunters just melted away. You know how it is. They're mercenaries. They're not zealots."

Din grinds his teeth, his jaw clenched tight. The emotions rolling off him are palpable, a storm barely contained. He pulls away from you, the warmth of his touch replaced by the cold fury radiating from him as he steps forward, shoving a finger into Greef Karga’s chest. "Did you do this? Did you?"

Before Greef can respond, a new voice cuts through the tension, calm and authoritative. "No. It was not his fault."

All of you turn toward the source of the voice, a female Mandalorian stepping out from the shadows. She is clad in red armor, her gold helmet adorned with a series of horns that curve across the top. This must be the Armorer, the one who forged Din's beskar. The way she carries herself, with quiet strength and wisdom, leaves no doubt.

You rise to your feet, your eyes widening as you sense a powerful aura emanating from her, a blend of gold and red. Through the Force, you glimpse her true nature—patient, wise, and unwaveringly strong.

The Armorer surveys the fallen armor strewn across the covert, her voice measured and steady. "We revealed ourselves. We knew what could happen if we left the covert. The Imperials arrived shortly thereafter. This is what resulted." She lifts a piece of beskar armor from the pile, her tone resigned, as though she is stating a simple fact.

Din’s voice is strained as he asks, "Did any survive?"

The Armorer places the piece of armor onto a cart already laden with salvaged beskar. "I hope so. Some may have escaped off-world."

"Come with us," Din urges, but the Armorer shakes her head, picking up another helmet and adding it to her cart.

"No. I will not abandon this place until I have salvaged what remains," she replies firmly, her choice unshakable.

You watch as she begins to push the hovering cart away, and without hesitation, Din follows her, leaving the rest of you to trail behind. The path leads you to the heart of the covert—the Armorer's forge, a place of deep significance. The air here is thick with the importance of history and tradition, the forge itself a symbol of the Mandalorians' resilience and strength.

You take in your surroundings, noting the tools neatly arranged, the forge at the center, glowing faintly with embers, the table where beskar is shaped and molded, and the computer panel displaying holographic schematics of Mandalorian armor. Every detail speaks of the care and precision that goes into crafting the armor that defines a Mandalorian, a testament to their way of life.

The cryo-furnace burns brightly in the center of the forge, casting flickering shadows across the room. You watch as the Armorer, with practiced precision, uses a pair of magnetic tongs to lift a beskar chest plate. The metal sizzles and hisses as she dips it into the molten pool of the furnace, transforming solid beskar into liquid. Her voice is calm, yet it carries the tone of command. “Show me the one whose safety deemed such destruction.”

IG-11 steps forward, the Child sitting quietly in the brown backpack strapped to the droid’s chest. Din speaks, his voice steady, though tinged with reverence. “This is the one.”

The Armorer steps closer, her gaze fixed on the small creature. “This is the one that you hunted, then saved?”

Din nods, his response curt but sincere. “Yes. The one that saved me as well.”

The Armorer tilts her helmet slightly as she continues, “From the mudhorn?”

“Yes,” Din confirms, his voice clipped as he remembers the near-fatal encounter.

“It looks helpless,” she observes, her tone more curious than judgmental.

The Child coos softly in response, its large ears folding back as if understanding the conversation. Din shifts slightly, protective instincts kicking in as he explains, “It's injured, but it is not helpless. Its species can move objects with its mind.”

The Armorer nods thoughtfully, her tone reverent as she recalls ancient lore. “I know of such things. The songs of eons past tell of battles between Mandalore the Great and an order of sorcerers called Jedi, who wielded such powers.”

You stiffen at the mention of the Jedi, memories of old texts and scrolls you once studied flashing through your mind. Din instinctively steps forward, positioning himself slightly in front of you, a subtle yet protective gesture. You can't help but ask, your voice shaky with uncertainty, “Is it an enemy?”

The Armorer regards the Child, then turns her attention to you, her gaze thoughtful beneath the gold helmet. “No. Its kind were enemies, but this individual is not.” She pauses, her head tilting slightly as she studies you with a depth that makes your heart race. “Including her.”

“I… How…” you stammer, the words tangled in your throat as you struggle to comprehend her meaning.

The Armorer’s voice is patient, her words measured. “You are different. The Force flows through you as well, though not as it does through the Child. But you are not our enemy.”

Din glances at you, his expression unreadable behind his helmet, but you can feel his concern and confusion. The importance of this information is nearly too much for you to take, even while you strain to find your words. Even while you know that everything has shifted in this instant, the armorer carries on with her task, undisturbed, as if she has spoken nothing unusual.

Din watches as the Armorer opens a cabinet, her movements precise and deliberate. The flickering light from the cryo-furnace casts long shadows on the walls, the heat radiating from the molten beskar filling the room. "What is it?" Din asks, his voice low and gravelly, filled with the sudden push of responsibility he’s not yet ready to accept.

The Armorer doesn’t look up from her work as she replies, her tone measured and authoritative. "It is a foundling. By Creed, it is in your care."

The Child, nestled safely in the brown backpack, gurgles softly, its wide eyes shifting between you and Din, as if sensing the gravity of the moment.

Din glances down at the Child, confusion and uncertainty lacing his words as he gestures towards the small creature. "You wish me to train this thing?"

The Armorer continues her work, her focus unbroken as she dips the simmering ladle with the liquid beskar, pouring it with precision onto her workbench. "It is too weak," she states plainly. "It would die. You have no choice. You must reunite it with its own kind."

Din’s jaw clenches beneath his helmet, his mind racing with the implications of her words. You stand beside him, feeling the sudden new responsibility settle over both of you. The Child stares up at you both with innocent eyes, unaware of the storm brewing within the Mandalorian’s heart.

"Where?" Din asks, his voice strained with the weariness of the unknown.

The Armorer hums thoughtfully, her focus never wavering from her task. "This, you must determine."

Din feels frustration bubbling up inside him. He gestures helplessly at the Child. "You expect me to search the galaxy for the home of this creature and deliver it to a race of enemy sorcerers?" His words rush out, sharp and biting, and you can’t help but wince, though you know the remark wasn’t directed at you.

The Armorer remains unfazed, her hammer striking the beskar with rhythmic precision. "This is the Way," she remarks, her tone calm and resolute, as if the creed alone should be enough to calm his doubts.

Din’s eyes soften under his helmet, realizing the harshness of his words. He turns to you, taking your hand gently in his. "I apologize, Cy’are," he mumbles, his voice laden with regret.

You offer him a reassuring smile, squeezing his hand lightly. "I know," you reply softly, understanding his distress. He didn’t mean to hurt you.

The Armorer, ever observant, takes note of your interaction as she continues her work. The clang of metal against metal fills the silence until Cara speaks up, her tone practical and urgent. "Hey. These tunnels will be lousy with Imps in a matter of minutes. We should at least discuss an escape plan."

The Armorer pauses her hammering, then turns slightly toward the group. "If you follow the descending tunnel, it will lead you to the underground river. It flows downstream toward the lava flats."

Greef Karga looks to Din, concern creasing his brow. "I think we should go," he suggests, the tension evident in his voice.

Din, however, remains resolute. "I'm staying. I need to help her, and I need to heal," he replies firmly, his gaze locking with yours.

You meet his determination with your own. "I’m not leaving you," you state with unwavering conviction.

The Armorer picks up her magnetic tongs and a circular pan, her voice steady as she addresses you both. "You must go. Your Riduur and the foundling are in your care. By Creed, until it is of age or reunited with its own kind, you are as its father."

The Child coos softly, sensing the affection and bond between you, Din, and itself. The Armorer, acknowledging this bond, turns to Din with a quiet reverence. "This is the Way."

The Armorer steps forward with quiet precision, affixing a signet to Din's pauldron. The emblem gleams in the dim light of the forge, its magnitude both physical and symbolic as it signifies the new identity bestowed upon him. She pauses for a moment, allowing the significance to settle in before she speaks, her voice steady and authoritative.

"You have earned your Signet. For now… you are a clan of two," she declares, her tone interim, as though the value of the galaxy itself rests on this moment.

The words barely register in your mind, their meaning lost as you stand beside Din. Your gaze is fixed on him, watching the way his posture straightens slightly, the way his head dips just a fraction in acknowledgment.

"Thank you," Din says, his voice rough with emotion but steady. "I will wear this with honor."

The forge's flames flicker, casting warm, wavering light on the scene, as Din steps back, the signet glinting on his pauldron—a mark of pride, responsibility, and the bond that ties the two of you together in this perilous galaxy.

The rumble of muffled explosions grows louder, each one sending vibrations through the walls of the covert. Instinctively, your group turns toward the source of the sound, tension tightening in your chest. Greef Karga’s voice cuts through the noise, sharp with urgency. “We should go,” he insists, his eyes darting between the shadows of the tunnel.

The Armorer, however, remains unflinching. She turns to IG-11 and then to you, her voice calm but commanding. “IG and the Jedi,” she begins, and before you can correct her misunderstanding, she continues, “please guard the outer hallway. A scouting party draws near.”

Without hesitation, the IG unit steps forward. It moves to Cara, gently handing the Child over to her. The soldier, caught off guard, stammers, “Hang on. I don't do the baby thing.”

The Child coos softly, and you exchange a quick, knowing glance with Cara, a slight shrug of your shoulders conveying that there’s little choice in the matter. Without another word, you follow the IG unit as it strides purposefully towards the outer hallway. The air grows colder, and the sound of your footsteps echoes against the narrow walls as you leave the others behind.

Just before you’re out of earshot, you hear the Armorer's voice, calm and steady as ever. “I have a few more gifts for your journey. Have you trained in the Rising Phoenix?”

Din looks down at the gleaming silver beskar Z-6 Jetpack in his hands, his breath catching slightly in his throat. “When I was a boy,” he says, his voice thick with the load of memories. “Yes.”

The Armorer’s voice is calm, almost reverent as she holds the jetpack. “Then this will make you complete,” she declares, a solemnity in her tone that acknowledges the significance of the moment.

Din’s voice wavers as he accepts the gift. “Thank you.”

She steps behind him, carefully attaching the Z-6 Jetpack to his back, her movements precise and steady. “When you have healed,” she instructs, “you will begin your drills. Until you know it, it will not listen to your commands.”

Din feels the weight of the jetpack settle onto his shoulders, its presence both reassuring and daunting. He nods, his determination hardening, his voice steady as he replies, "I understand." The words are a quiet promise, a vow to honor the gift he has been given.

The Armorer pauses for a moment, her gaze steady on him. "One other thing," she begins, her tone shifting slightly, "your Riduur… I assume you’re courting her."

The question hits Din like a bolt, and he feels a flush rise beneath his helmet, heat spreading across his skin. He’s never been one for public confrontations, especially not about something so deeply personal. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken emotions, as he struggles for a response.

But the Armorer doesn’t need words to understand. She reads the tension in his posture, the hesitation in his voice, and she nods, accepting his silence as confirmation. Without another word, she turns to her cabinet, her movements measured and precise. From within, she retrieves a smaller version of the Mudhorn signet, its surface polished to a gleaming finish. She hands it to him with the same solemnity that she had with the jetpack.

"You are aware of the customs?" she asks, her voice carrying the value of tradition.

Din takes the signet, its cool metal a stark contrast to the warmth flooding his chest. He slips it into his pocket, the significance of the gesture not lost on him.

"Yes," he replies, his voice firm, yet laced with an undercurrent of emotion he rarely lets slip.

The Armorer inclines her head, satisfied with his answer. "This is the Way," she intones, her words both a reminder and a benediction.

Din nods, the phrase echoing in his mind. "This is the Way," he repeats, the words a binding promise, not just to himself, but to you as well.

Meanwhile, in the outer hallway, you and the IG-11 unit stand alert. The sound of approaching stormtroopers reverberates through the tunnels, a familiar and unwelcome echo. Your hand instinctively reaches for the hilt of your lightsaber, and with a flick, it ignites, casting a purple glow across the darkened corridor. The Force flows through you, heightening your senses as you prepare for the oncoming assault.

Blaster fire erupts, red bolts streaking toward you, but you remain calm, centered. Your lightsaber hums as you deflect each shot with precision, the bolts ricocheting back at the stormtroopers, sending them sprawling—some injured, others unconscious.

Beside you, IG-11 methodically takes down those that remain standing. The droid’s movements are efficient, calculated. As the last of the stormtroopers fall, you and IG-11 exchange a glance. The droid peers around the corner, scanning for further threats, then turns to you and states matter-of-factly, “You are protected.”

"More will come. You must go," the Armorer states with quiet authority as you and IG-11 reenter the forge. The heat from the cryo-furnace pulses through the room, a stark contrast to the cold dread gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

Din turns to her, his voice firm with concern. “Come with us.”

The Armorer shakes her head with a firm tenacity. “My place is here. Restock your munitions,” she instructs, her voice steady as she gestures toward the scattered supplies.

She turns to the IG unit, handing Din’s newly earned jetpack into its mechanical grasp. “IG, carry this for Din Djarin until he is well enough to wear it.”

The droid nods in silent compliance, securing the jetpack carefully within its arms. Din methodically restocks his ammunition, his focus sharp despite the tension humming through the air.

“Now, go. Down to the river and across the plains. Be safe on your journey,” the Armorer commands, her voice carrying the weight of finality.

Din takes your hand in his, the leather of his glove warm against your skin. There’s a moment of unspoken understanding between you, the bond you share more palpable than ever in the face of the unknown. He turns to the tunnels, not dropping your hand, and with a quiet nod to the Armorer, he says, “Thank you.”

The two of you head into the darkness, leaving the forge and its fierce protector behind, every step forward a testament to the resilience that binds you.

You emerge from one of the tunnels and are immediately greeted by the sight of a large, bubbling river of hot lava, its fiery surface sending waves of heat toward you. The glow casts an eerie, red light on everyone’s faces, highlighting the tension in the air.

“This is the lava river,” Greef Karga announces, his voice filled with a mix of awe and urgency.

You and Din move closer to the boat docked on the riverbank, its hull crewed by a battered and seemingly inoperative ferry droid. Din assesses the damage, his gaze narrowing as he comments, “The ferry droid is fried.”

Greef Karga steps forward, his practical mind already formulating a plan. “Yeah, but if we push the boat out, we can get it to float downstream. Come on,” he says, placing his hands on the boat’s edge and beginning to shove.

Din continues his inspection of the boat, noticing its age and the wear that time has inflicted. “Looks old. Will it take the heat?” he asks, skepticism lacing his tone.

“You got a better idea?” Greef Karga shoots back, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Din shrugs, resigning himself to the situation. “Guess not.”

With a shared grunt of effort, the two men push against the boat, muscles straining as they try to dislodge it from the platform. But the boat stubbornly remains stuck, the dried lava around it acting as an anchor. Frustration mounts as Din groans and gives the boat a frustrated kick, before grabbing a metal paddle to try and pry it free—still to no avail.

Cara Dune watches their struggle with a growing sense of impatience, finally rolling her eyes before stepping forward. “You guys mind getting out of the way?” she says, her tone dripping with exasperation.

Din and Greef Karga step aside as Cara levels her blaster at the boat. With a few well-aimed shots, she blasts away the dried lava, freeing the boat from its fiery mooring.

“Oh! Good job,” Greef Karga praises, a hint of relief in his voice as the boat begins to shift and move.

Without hesitation, the group clambers aboard the small ferry, the heat of the molten lava almost unbearable as IG-11 issues a warning, “Watch your feet. It's molten lava.”

“No kidding,” Cara mutters, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she settles into the boat.

A tense silence falls over the group, broken only by the sudden electrical humming coming from the droid. Instinctively, Din, Cara, and Greef Karga draw their blasters, aiming them at the ferry droid as it begins to come to life. You stand back, watching as the droid chirps at you, its mechanical sounds echoing in the small space.

Din breaks the silence, his voice wary. “I don't suppose anybody here speaks droid?”

IG-11 steps in, his tone calm as he translates, “I believe he is asking where we would like to go.”

Greef Karga, still eyeing the droid with skepticism, eventually responds, “Downriver. To the lava flat.”

The ferry droid chirps rhythmically, as if in agreement, and with a mechanical whir, it begins to row the boat down the river. Your group holsters their blasters as the ferry glides smoothly over the molten surface, the droid content to fulfill its purpose, and the group can’t help but share a moment of quiet relief as they continue their journey downstream.

You quietly move next to Din, the tension in the air thick enough to feel, but neither of you speaks. Your eyes are fixed on the faint light at the end of the tunnel, the only sign of hope in this dark, foreboding place. You can feel the weight of everything that has happened pressing down on you, yet you hold on to the flicker of hope that you’ll find a way out of this.

Out of the corner of your eye, you glance at Din. The Force gently tugs at your senses, and you’re drawn to the swirl of emotions radiating from him in a kaleidoscope of colors. Where once there were dark, muted grays of pain and uncertainty, you now see lighter tones beginning to emerge, a sign that he’s slowly regaining his center after the injury that had shaken him so deeply.

Din turns his head to look at you, and you meet his gaze, staring back at him through the dark visor of his helmet. Though his face is hidden, you’ve always had a way of seeing through that thick, impenetrable black visor, straight to the heart of the man underneath. It’s a connection that runs deeper than words, a silent understanding that passes between you.

A shiver runs up Din’s spine, the feeling of being so deeply understood and seen by you, even through the beskar, is both grounding and unsettling in its intimacy. He’s never quite sure how you do it, how you manage to see him so clearly despite the layers of armor he wears.

Neither of you speaks, the silence stretching on as the moment lingers between you. Eventually, you’re the first to break the gaze, taking a small step closer to him. You rest your head gently on his shoulder, the cool metal of his beskar pauldron pressing against your forehead. It’s a simple gesture, but one filled with a depth of comfort and connection that words could never convey.

Maker. The thought flickers through Din’s mind, almost as a prayer. He wonders what he ever did to deserve you, to be within your orbit. He’s lived his life in the shadows, never expecting to find someone who could see him so completely. And yet, here you are. He holds out a silent prayer to the universe, hoping for the strength to keep you with him, to protect you, to not let this fragile connection slip through his fingers.

The light at the end of the tunnel grows closer, but for now, you both find solace in this small, shared moment.

As the droid methodically rows the hoverboat down the molten lava river, the rhythmic sound of metal scraping against stone echoes softly through the tunnel. The eerie glow of the lava illuminates the cavernous space, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Occasionally, small, skittish mammals dart along the riverbanks, their eyes glowing in the dim light before they disappear into the darkness.

The boat glides steadily toward the mouth of the tunnel, where a faint light shines like a beacon of hope. The group remains tense, but as you approach the entrance, Greef Karga’s voice breaks through the tension with a burst of optimism. He points eagerly at the light, his voice filled with relief. “That’s it! We’re free!”

But Din doesn’t share Karga’s optimism. His instincts prickling, he taps a button on the side of his helmet, switching to thermal imaging. The world around him shifts into shades of red and blue, revealing what the naked eye cannot see.

“No,” Din’s voice cuts through the brief moment of hope, a grim tone to his words. “No, we’re not.” His gaze remains fixed on the entrance, his thermal vision picking up the heat signatures of countless figures lying in wait. “Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel.”

You glance at Din, the unease in his voice sending a chill down your spine. He continues, his voice a low, measured tone as he counts the figures. “It looks like an entire platoon. They must know we’re coming.”

The tension in the air thickens as the boat continues to drift closer to the tunnel’s exit, the light growing brighter but more ominous with every passing second.

“Stop the boat,” Cara orders sharply, turning toward the ferry droid. “Hey, Droid, I said stop the boat.”

The droid only responds with a series of unintelligible chirps, its programming unable to process the urgency in her voice. Frustration tightens Cara’s expression, and without hesitation, she unholsters her blaster, her voice rising with authority. “Hey! I'm talking to you. I said stop!”

A single shot rings out, and the droid’s head is blasted clean off, leaving it a lifeless hunk of metal. The boat continues to drift forward, unaffected by the loss of its pilot. The Child whimpers at the sudden noise, and Cara immediately softens, trying to soothe him with a gentle, “Shh, it’s okay.”

Greef Karga eyes the boat as it glides along the river, still propelled by the momentum it had before the droid was destroyed. “We’re still moving,” he notes grimly.

Cara scans the tunnel ahead, her face hardening as she realizes there’s no stopping now. “Looks like we fight,” she declares, steeling herself for the confrontation.

But Din shakes his head, his voice low and steady. “There are too many.”

Cara’s eyes flash with defiance as she snaps back, “Then what do you suggest? 'Cause I can't surrender.”

Before anyone else can speak, IG-11 interjects, its voice calm and resolute. “They will not be satisfied with anything less than the Child. This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy and you will escape.”

Din scoffs, unable to hide his skepticism. “You don’t have that kind of firepower, pal. You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

But IG-11’s response is cold and matter-of-fact. “That is not my objective.”

A heavy silence follows as everyone processes the meaning behind the droid’s words. Din’s jaw clenches beneath his helmet, understanding dawning painfully in his mind.

Cara quickly hands you the Child, her eyes flicking to the tunnel ahead. “We’re getting close. Saddle up,” she says, her tone brisk and focused as she readies her blaster, preparing for the inevitable fight.

The tension is palpable as IG-11’s voice cuts through the air with a calm finality. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

Din takes a step forward, disbelief and frustration tightening his voice. “What are you talking about?”

The droid remains composed, its mechanical tone unyielding. “I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

Greef Karga’s voice slices through the conversation, sharp and urgent. “Are we gonna keep talking, or get out of here?”

Ignoring the interruption, IG-11 turns and hands the jetpack to Din. “I can no longer carry this for you. Nor can I watch over the Child.”

Din’s emotions churn beneath his helmet, a mixture of confusion and reluctant attachment rising to the surface. For someone who’s always hated droids for what they did to his planet, this particular one has proven itself different. The words tumble out, almost desperate. “Wait. You can’t self-destruct. Your base command is to protect the Child.”

Din’s voice softens, a note of pleading seeping in. “That supersedes your manufacturer’s protocol, right? Right?”

There’s a brief pause, as if the droid is processing his question. “This is correct.”

Relief flickers across Din’s features, even if hidden beneath the beskar. “Good. Now grab a blaster and help us shoot our way out.”

But IG-11 remains resolute, its next words heavy with certainty. “Victory through combat is impossible. We will be captured. The Child will be lost. Sadly, there is no scenario where the Child is saved, in which I survive.”

Din’s frustration mounts, his mind racing for another solution, any solution. “Listen, you’re not going anywhere. We need you. Let’s just… come up with a—”

But the droid cuts him off, its tone firm yet gentle. “Please tell me the Child will be safe in your care. If you do so, I can default to my secondary command.”

Din looks up at the droid, his voice low, almost anguished. “But you’ll be destroyed.”

IG-11 responds without hesitation. “And you will live, and I will have served my purpose.”

“No. We need you,” Din insists, his voice growing tighter, a rare crack in his stoic exterior. The droid’s next words hit him harder than any blaster shot. “There is nothing to be sad about. I have never been alive.”

Din, ever defensive, tries to mask his emotions. “I’m not sad.”

But the droid sees through him, as it was programmed to do. “Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I’ve analyzed your voice.”

You watch the exchange, your heart heavy with the truth of what’s about to happen. Tears well up in your eyes, the reality sinking in that this droid, one that had grown to mean something to you all, is about to sacrifice itself. It’s a loss none of you are truly ready for, but deep down, you know it’s the only way.

The Child coos softly in your arms, its large eyes full of trust as it peers up at you. IG-11 pauses, glancing at the small creature, and then gently pats its ears in a gesture that almost feels… affectionate. A farewell, perhaps. You feel the sting of sorrow as the droid steps away, its purpose clear.

Without another word, IG-11 hops off the boat and into the bubbling lava, the searing heat beginning to eat away at its metal frame. Greef Karga’s voice breaks the silence, tinged with confusion and a hint of alarm. “IG? What are you doing?”

The droid doesn’t respond, just continues its slow, deliberate march through the molten river, its body gradually melting, limbs faltering as it nears the mouth of the tunnel. Beyond, the light filters through, revealing the stormtroopers waiting, their blasters raised, ready to fire. But they hesitate, unsure of the droid’s intent.

Reaching the river’s end, IG-11 speaks, its voice unwavering, almost serene. “Manufacturer’s protocol dictates I cannot be captured.”

The sound of a pulse begins, low and rhythmic, a countdown to the inevitable. “I must be destroyed,” IG-11 states, its words a final goodbye.

And then, with a blinding flash, the droid detonates, the explosion erupting like a fiery inferno. The stormtroopers don’t even have time to react before they’re consumed by the blast. Their screams echo briefly before being snuffed out, leaving only silence in its wake. The fiery eruption floods the tunnel’s entrance, scattering debris and molten rock, neutralizing the entire platoon in an instant.

As the dust and flames settle, the path ahead clears. The way to the plains is open, and for a moment, all is still. The sacrifice of IG-11 rings heavy in the air, its selflessness ensuring the Child’s safety, and allowing you, Din, and the others to move forward—alive, but forever changed.

You finally emerge from the tunnels, the cool air of the open plains a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat of the lava river. For a fleeting moment, there's a sense of relief—until you hear the ominous roar of an engine in the distance. Your gaze snaps upward, just as Cara shouts, “Moff Gideon!”

Above, the silhouette of the Outland TIE fighter cuts across the sky, its distinct scream echoing through the air. Gideon’s fighter dives down, strafing your group with blaster fire. Instinctively, you ignite your lightsaber, the purple blade humming to life as you deflect the incoming shots, sending them harmlessly into the dirt. Din, Cara, and Greef Karga return fire with their blasters, but the bolts ricochet off the TIE fighter’s armored hull, doing little to slow its assault.

As the TIE fighter pulls up for another pass, Greef Karga shouts, “He missed!”

Din doesn’t look away from the sky, his voice grim. “He won't next time.”

Cara lowers her blaster, frustration etched on her face. “Our blasters are useless against him.”

Greef Karga, desperation creeping into his tone, glances at the Child in your arms. “Let's make the baby do the magic hand thing!” He turns to the Child, wiggling his fingers as if trying to coax a response. “Come on, baby! Do the magic hand thing!”

The Child stares up at him with wide, innocent eyes, cooing softly, clearly not understanding what Greef Karga is asking. The moment hangs in the air, the absurdity of the situation clashing with the deadly reality of the threat above.

Greef Karga sighs, “I'm out of ideas.”

Din's chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath, his thoughts racing for a solution. There isn’t much time—Gideon’s TIE fighter is already banking around, preparing for another attack run. The fighter’s engines scream through the air as it turns, ready to strike.

“I’m not,” Din mutters, almost to himself, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. His voice is quiet but filled with purposefulness.

“Here he comes!” Cara shouts, urgency clear in her voice.

Without another word, Din moves with purpose, strapping the jetpack firmly onto his back. You can see the determination in his movements, each one precise, no hesitation. He checks the pack one last time, then ignites it, the blue flames roaring to life with a sharp hiss. The blast from the jetpack propels him skyward, and you watch as he rockets toward the incoming TIE fighter, becoming a streak of silver against the dusky sky.

The TIE fighter roars closer, and in a daring move, Din launches his grappling cable, the wire streaking through the air with a sharp whizz. The hook latches onto the wing of the TIE, yanking Din with it as it surges forward.

Your heart skips a beat as you watch him hold tight to the cable, the wind whipping around him, the ground a blur beneath. The TIE fighter dips and rolls, trying to shake him loose, but Din’s grip is ironclad. With each twist and turn, he inches closer to the cockpit, his movements precise, driven by sheer will.

Unable to force his way into the cockpit with his blaster, Din quickly tries to plant a detonator on the hull of the TIE fighter. But Moff Gideon sees the attempt and executes a sharp maneuver, causing the detonator to slip from its intended position and tumble away. Din barely manages to keep his grip as the ship veers wildly, but he’s not done yet. He moves with quick precision, planting a second detonator on the left wing joint.

You watch from below, heart pounding, as Din releases his hold on the fighter. For a moment, he’s just a speck in the sky, free-falling as the detonator flashes red. Then, with a brilliant explosion, the TIE’s wing disintegrates, sending the ship spiraling out of control. The wreckage hurtles toward the ground, crashing in a fiery plume on the plains beyond.

Din activates his jetpack just in time, the blue thrusters flaring as he regains control of his descent. He lands hard, stumbling slightly as he adjusts to the new weight on his back. But he’s safe, standing tall, smoke rising in the distance where Gideon’s ship went down.

You disengage your lightsaber, the purple blade retracting with a sharp hiss, and holster it at your side. As you pass the Child to Cara, she cradles him protectively, her expression softening for a brief moment before returning to her usual stout-heartedness.

Without hesitation, you sprint toward Din, your heart racing with relief and something deeper. He sees you coming and barely has time to brace himself before you collide with him, throwing your arms around his neck. He catches you with steady arms, pulling you close, the firm grip of his gauntlets grounding you both. For a long moment, the world around you fades, and it’s just the two of you—alive, together, and safe.

You pull back slightly, standing on your tiptoes as your hands find the sides of his helmet. Gently, you press your forehead against the cool beskar, closing your eyes and letting out a shuddering breath. It’s a silent gesture, a keldabe kiss that speaks of everything you both feel but can’t yet put into words.

Greef Karga steps forward, a broad grin on his face. "That was impressive, Mando. Very impressive." He pauses, his gaze flicking between Din and you. "Looks like your Guild rates just went up."

You and Din step back from each other, but his hand finds yours, holding on tightly as if to anchor himself. He nods to Greef’s comment, then asks, "Any more stormtroopers?"

Greef shakes his head. "I think we cleaned up the town. I'm thinking of sticking around just to be sure." Cara nods in agreement, her expression firm. She sets the Child down, and it squeals with delight, waddling unsteadily toward you and Din.

Din watches the Child for a moment, then tilts his head toward Cara. "You’re staying here?"

Greef interjects, puffing his chest slightly as he looks around at the scorched streets of Nevarro. "Why not? Nevarro’s a fine planet. And now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s quite respectable."

Din’s voice carries a note of skepticism even through the modulator as he replies, "As a bounty hunter hive?"

Greef chuckles, tapping Din on the shoulder. "Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters." He then shifts his attention to Cara, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And maybe this fine specimen of a soldier would consider joining our ranks."

Cara snorts, shaking her head. "I’ve got some clerical concerns regarding my chain code."

Greef grins, offering, "And if you’d agree to become my enforcer, clerical concerns would be the least of your worries."

The Child finally reaches Din, gripping his leg with both hands, gazing up with wide, trusting eyes. Din glances down, and even behind the visor, you can sense his heart soften. Greef notices too, then turns his focus back to Din. "But you, my friend—you’ll be welcome back into the Guild with open arms. Go off, enjoy yourself. And when you’re ready to return, you’ll have your pick of all the quarries."

Greef then shifts his gaze to you, his eyes warm. "And you, my dear, will always have a place at the med center. It’ll be there when you’re ready to come back."

Din adjusts the Child in his arms, his tone steady but resolute. "I’m afraid I have more pressing matters."

Cara reaches out, rubbing one of the Child’s large ears affectionately. The Child gurgles in response, and Cara smiles, looking at Din. "Take care of this little one." She then turns to you, her expression softening. "And her too."

Greef adds with a knowing twinkle in his eye, "Or maybe they’ll be the ones taking care of you."

You smile, warmth spreading through your chest as Din nods. He gently passes the Child to you, and as you cradle him, Din wraps an arm securely around your waist. His voice is low, almost tender, as he asks, "You ready?"

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance up at him through your lashes. "I’m terrified. Please don’t drop me."

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through the beskar. "Never."

With that, the two of you take off into the sky, the jetpack lifting you both. The wind rushes past, tugging at your clothes as your stomach flips. You squeeze your eyes shut, clinging to the Child close to your chest and Din as the ground falls away beneath you. Despite the dizzying height and the roaring wind, you feel a sense of peace—a quiet certainty that, no matter what happens, you’re safe in his arms.

The journey back to the Razor Crest is somber, the weight of loss hanging heavily in the air. Together, you and Din wordlessly bury Kuiil beneath the scorched sands of Nevarro. The burial is simple, just the two of you under the vast sky, the only sound the wind whispering through the rocks. Din kneels for a moment, his hand resting on the mound of earth, before rising slowly. Neither of you speak, the silence saying all there is to say.

With the burial complete, Din takes your hand, and together you walk back to the Razor Crest. His grip is firm, grounding you as the reality of the past few days settles in. As you step aboard the ship, the familiar hum of the engines provides a small comfort—a reminder that, despite everything, you’re still moving forward.

In the cockpit, you strap in beside Din, watching as he straps the Child into his seat. The little one’s eyes are wide, curious, and full of wonder. Din gently moves a bit of the Child’s shirt as he looks at the mythosaur necklace around the Child’s neck, allowing it to stay with him. The Child coos softly, fingers grasping the pendant as if it holds some great significance.

Din settles into the pilot’s seat, and with a few swift motions, the Razor Crest rumbles to life. The ship lifts off, the ground falling away beneath you as the stars come into view. The vastness of space opens up before you, dark and endless.

You lean back in your seat, trying to shake off the lingering unease. But as the stars streak past, that sinking feeling in your chest refuses to leave. It gnaws at you, a quiet but insistent reminder that this isn’t the end. This is just the beginning—of something larger, something more dangerous than you could ever have imagined.

The Razor Crest sails deeper into the galaxy, leaving the ashes of Nevarro behind, but the weight of the journey ahead presses down on you. Whatever awaits, you know one thing for certain: it’s far from over.

TAGLIST:

@wastingspaces@avengersheart@lunatic1012@keepingupwiththeskywalkers@mxltifxnd0m@syviiss@luckyzipperscissorsbat@avengersheart @dins-riduur-anthe @lizlil@n7cje @scoliobean @ofmusesandsecrets

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fluff #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x empath!reader #din djarin x forcesensitive!reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian #the mandalorian rewrite

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candyeager · 1 month ago

Text

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋

— gojo satoru x fem!oc

CHAPTER ONE 2.1k words

short synopsis. in which her marriage to Satoru Gojo, the world's most arrogant and untouchable sorcerer becomes both a chain and a cure. warnings. graphic violence, murder, blood mentions, disorder eating, implied sexual threats, suggestive themes. tags. gojo x fem!oc, arranged marriage, angst with happy ending, eventual fluff, heavy pining/yearning, emotional detachment. oc is an empath.

masterlist + prologue / next chapter

Kurai

Kurai walked purposefully through the corridors of their shared home, a secluded and grand traditional residence in Tokyo. The air inside was cold, heavy with the weight of expectations and silence. After the marriage ceremony had concluded, she had anticipated Satoru's arrival. Yet, the hours slipped by, and he never came.

Her patience thinning, she made her way to his room. Without hesitation, she slid the door open, revealing Satoru in the middle of dressing. He stood with his back partially turned to her, pulling on his dark blue jacket. The lean, muscular lines of his body was visible for only a brief moment before he zipped up the jacket with usual unbothered grace.

As he turned slightly to glance at her over his shoulder, his lips curled into that familiar, lazy smile.

"Not much for knocking, are you?" he teased, his voice tinged with his signature flippancy, as though her intrusion was nothing more than a casual interruption.

Kurai ignored his comment, watching him as he began to wrap his eyes with bandages, the same habit he always had—keeping those infamous Six Eyes hidden. His flippant attitude only stoked the frustration that had been simmering within her.

"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice was calm but strained, betraying the tension she'd been holding back. "I told you to spend the night with me."

Satoru chuckled softly, the sound almost mocking. He finished tying the bandages around his head before turning fully to face her, his smirk deepening.

"Oh? Our first day as husband and wife, and you want to spend the night with me already? How romantic," he drawled, his voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

Kurai's hands tightened at her sides, her patience wearing thin. "I'm not asking for romance," she stated bluntly, her voice edged with frustration. "I'm asking for you to fulfill your duty. We need to consummate this marriage. Tonight."

Satoru raised an eyebrow, a flicker of genuine surprise passing through his expression before he laughed softly. "Wow, straight to the point, huh?" He sounded amused, as if she'd suggested something trivial, rather than a request that held the weight of political expectation.

She met his gaze, unflinching. "There are people in my clan—your clan, too—who don't want this marriage. They'll take any excuse to undermine it. If we don't fulfill this part of the arrangement, they'll use it against us. Against me." Her voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of something darker—something more than just obligation. She didn't care for the traditional meaning behind the act, but she understood its necessity. She had no time for his flippancy.

Satoru's smirk softened just a fraction, though the amusement never fully left his face. "You're really worried about all that?" he asked, his tone lighter than the situation warranted. "I told you, I'll only be gone a few days. I'll take care of it when I get back. No need to rush."

Kurai stepped forward, her eyes locking onto his. Her fingers closed around the sleeve of his jacket, stopping him from brushing past her.

"I can't wait that long." Her voice was lower now, almost desperate—but it wasn't desperation born from emotion. It was strategy. She had to make him see reason, had to keep him from slipping away tonight. "You can do whatever you want after. Keep mistresses, I don't care. Just sleep with me tonight."

There was a brief pause as her words hung in the air. For a moment, the teasing glint in Satoru's eyes dimmed, replaced by something more contemplative. He studied her, the weight of the situation settling on him, though his face betrayed little.

"When you put it like that, you make me sound like a jerk," he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Kurai bit back the retort she wanted to throw at him. 'You are a jerk.' But she kept her face neutral, her grip on his sleeve firm. She wouldn't let him leave without getting what she needed from him. He was too unpredictable, too unreliable. She couldn't afford to give him that freedom tonight.

Satoru's smirk returned, though it was sharper now, more dangerous. Without warning, he reached up and began unwrapping the bandages from his eyes. When his piercing blue eyes—those infamous Six Eyes—were revealed, Kurai felt a shiver run through her, though she forced herself to remain still. There was something unsettling about how effortlessly he commanded attention, how those eyes saw through everything, every layer of deception.

"Alright," he said, his voice lower now, his tone almost predatory. "Since we're doing this whole marriage thing, might as well enjoy the perks, right?"

Before she could react, Satoru closed the distance between them, his lips crashing against hers with sudden intensity. The kiss was not gentle—it was forceful, demanding, and overwhelming. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as his cursed energy pulsed faintly between them, a reminder of the immense power he carried.

Kurai froze for a split second, her mind reeling at the overwhelming sensation. His emotions—lust, desire, hunger—flooded her senses like a tidal wave, crashing over her own carefully controlled feelings. It was suffocating, his presence too much, too fast. She had expected this, had prepared herself for it, but the reality of Satoru Gojo was something no amount of planning could have accounted for.

Her back hit the tatami mat as Satoru pushed her down, hovering above her with an intensity that was all-consuming. His hands roamed her body, undressing her with practiced ease, and though Kurai's mind screamed at her to regain control, her body remained stiff, locked in the torrent of sensations.

She had known this night would come. She had braced herself for it. Yet, nothing could have prepared her for how dominant he was—physically, emotionally, even spiritually. His touch wasn't gentle, but she hadn't expected it to be. Satoru was a man who took what he wanted, when he wanted, with little regard for the consequences.

When he entered her, the pain was sharp, immediate. Kurai's body tensed instinctively, her nails digging into the mat beneath her as she forced herself to stay silent. She bit her lip, swallowing the urge to cry out. She could endure this—just one night. It was all she needed.

This was for her plan. For her future. For her freedom.

And as Satoru's emotions continued to flood her senses, Kurai forced herself to focus. She would survive this. She would use this night to bind herself to her destiny, even if it meant enduring the one man she couldn't stand.

Kurai awoke to the distant sound of birds chirping outside, her mind still clouded by the fog of sleep. She shifted slightly, but her body protested—a sharp, throbbing pain between her legs, a reminder of the night before. Her muscles were sore, stiff. She gritted her teeth and willed herself to stand, ignoring the ache. Changing into more comfortable clothes, she slid open the door of her room and stepped outside into the morning air.

The residence was eerily quiet. Satoru had seen to it that there were no maids attending to her needs—just as she had requested. Kurai couldn't stand the constant hovering of servants. She had endured enough of that back in the Sanzu clan, where every moment of her life was scrutinized, every action a performance to be perfected as the 'ideal bride' for the Gojo clan. Now that she was married, she no longer had to pretend. She was free from their incessant watchfulness, but with that freedom came something else: solitude. It was a welcome silence.

A soft breeze drifted through the garden as Kurai stepped onto the wooden pillar to get a view of the secluded estate. Nestled in the quiet of Tokyo's outskirts, the house was a fortress—isolated, shielded from the outside world. The veil that surrounded the property was nearly imperceptible but effective. No cursed spirits, no unwelcome visitors, no threats could cross its barrier. Satoru had made sure of that too before he left.

She practiced alone in the stillness, gripping the worn handle of her favourite dagger. The weapon, though old, was a part of her—sharp, deadly, honed through years of hatred and vengeance. Each strike she delivered to the dummy before her was precise, deadly, aimed at vital points. One slash to the neck, a thrust to the heart. Her movements were swift, controlled, and as she sliced through the air, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The satisfaction of death by her hand was a comfort.

But just as she was about to strike again, a shift in the air made her stop. An emotion that wasn't her own crept into her awareness, a presence at the edge of the veil. Someone had crossed it.

Kurai's eyes narrowed as she stepped toward the wall, her senses alert. She peered beyond the garden, her suspicion confirmed when she saw Namishi—her cousin from the branch family of the Sanzu clan—approaching with a cook carrying her meal. Namishi's presence always brought a mix of irritation and disdain. He was dutiful, yes, but far too comfortable playing his role as her handler for the clan.

He waved at her as he approached, a smile plastered on his face.

"Big sis, have you been well?" Namishi greeted as he stepped closer.

"I have," Kurai replied coolly, her eyes tracking his every movement.

"I brought your favorite meal." He gestured toward the cook, who obediently opened the lid, revealing a plate of breaded pork cutlet. "Tonkatsu and curry," he said with a grin that didn't reach his eyes.

Kurai arched an eyebrow. "For breakfast?"

Namishi chuckled lightly, but his next words dripped with insinuation. "I figured you must be tired after last night. That is... if you did what you were supposed to."

A tense silence followed, the weight of his implication hanging in the air. Kurai's jaw tightened. The clan had been relentless, pressuring her to consummate the marriage immediately, as if her worth was tied to the act alone. Pathetic.

"I did," she said sharply, meeting his gaze with a cold, emotionless stare.

Namishi's smile widened, though there was something unsettling behind it. "Good. Then we can start preparing you to eat for two soon."

Kurai's eyes narrowed further. She watched as Namishi stepped into the house as if he owned the place, his air of superiority grating on her nerves.

"You should go change, big sis. You look improper," Namishi remarked, glancing over her sweaty training clothes.

Kurai scoffed, crossing her arms. "It doesn't matter. I'm no longer tied to the Sanzu clan. I'm Gojo's wife now."

Namishi paused at that, turning back to her with mild curiosity. "Speaking of that... Will you be changing your name, then?"

Kurai's gaze hardened. "Not yet."

Namishi tilted his head. "What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not fully convinced of Gojo yet."

He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Did your husband do something to you?"

Her lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "No. And it's none of your concern."

Namishi's brow furrowed in irritation, but he said nothing as the cook served the meal at the table. Kurai sat down, picking up the chopsticks. The meal was too much for breakfast, but after training, she was hungrier than she had expected. She took a bite, chewing methodically.

"I've been serving you faithfully, big sis," Namishi began again, his tone light but grating, "and I thought we had—"

The arrow hit him before the words left his mouth.

It happened in an instant. One moment, Namishi was speaking; the next, an arrow had lodged itself in his neck, cutting him off mid-sentence. His eyes widened in shock as blood spurted from the wound. The cook barely had time to react before another arrow pierced his chest, sending him crumpling to the floor.

Kurai froze, her breath catching in her throat. 'What—'

Panic set in as her mind raced. She scrambled back, pressing herself against the wall as she scanned the room. 'Where were the arrows coming from?' She couldn't sense any cursed energy, no emotions—nothing.

Kurai's heart pounded in her chest as she crawled toward Namishi's body, her hands shaking as she inspected the arrow embedded in his neck. Her blood ran cold as she recognized the cursed energy emanating from it. Sanzu clan energy.

Before she could process the betrayal, another arrow sliced through the air, grazing her arm. Pain shot through her, and she gasped, stumbling back. Her vision blurred as the poison began to take hold, seeping through her veins. She collapsed beside Namishi's lifeless body, her hand reaching out instinctively to pull the arrow from her arm, but it was too late. Her muscles stiffened, and she could feel her body shutting down.

The realization struck her like a blow to the gut. Her own clan had sent assassins. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since she'd married into the Gojo clan, and already they wanted her dead.

Her vision darkened, the world spinning around her as the poison coursed through her bloodstream. In the quiet, all she could hear was the faint rustle of the wind, the sound of betrayal echoing in her ears.

< chapter one ends >

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