#plus a helmet with wings too

[ramosdeolivaa]

Guys, hear me out.

"Wouldn't you like" stage ver but Hermes is wearing one of those

[beastking-golion]

Saw a fic about vastaya Viktor and if you ask me he’s definitely a bird (or salamander if you wanna super angstify him- cough cough Rio cough).

[vague-humanoid]

@c0dyc0la yeah the outfit is generic, and apparently all the nationalist Israeli heroes have similar designs

[dickgraysonisnothereforthis]

Outgoing Call

A Jason Todd x reader story. It's funny, until it's not. Then it's angsty.

MDNI, NSFW, not smut but mature language. Excessive swearing, sexual situations, you know the drill. use of a slur, but in jest. content warnings for addiction.

I have no idea how long this is.

---

Jason doesn't want to be here. The stupid fucking pageantry of the Batcave gets on his nerves and sets his teeth on edge, always has. A whole-ass cave is fucking unnecessary, Jason makes do with a handful of safe houses—apartments really—and a storage unit. Bruce, sitting stoic at the computer in his full Batman getup and looking right at home among the exposed rock and towering ceilings that end in darkness, never seemed to know when to stop. It irritates Jason to no end.

Dick and Tim's blind chirping chatters angrily in his ears, and Jason considers putting on the helmet to block them out before he remembers he left it at his place. Damn. He’s going to have to experience this stupid meeting unfiltered.

Jason only realizes they're trying to get his attention when Dick taps him on the shoulder.

"You okay there, Little Wing?” he asks, raising his eyebrows and nudging an elbow into his gut. It's enough to make a swell of vomit claw its way up his throat. Jason swallows down with a grimace. "Yes, dickface," he snaps. "Just wondering when we're going to get this fucking show on the road."

Dick shrugs, and Jason's secretly glad he's not offended. He probably wouldn't be acting so much of a shit if he didn't go and overdo it at some unknown dive bar last night. It's possible Jason is mixing up his eager disgust with Batman and Co. and alcohol poisoning.

Like he isn't part of Batman and Co. Bruce grunts, and Dick and Tim refocus, alert. Jason does the same, then forces himself to relax. He ildly imagines shooting himself in the face.

"You know why you’re here," Bruce starts. Actually, Jason doesn't. He didn't read the report Bruce sent him, but whatever. He can figure it out with context clues.

"Oracle has a new lead on the cyber-crime case. She managed to override the suspect's phone and took control, creating an essential bug. It goes live in one minute."

Right. The hits on Gotham National Bank, GCPD, and the mayor’s office. Plus an attempt on Oracle's highly protected Batman case files. Jason doesn't know why he's here, he doesn't give a shit about this case. If the hacker manages to get into Bruce's stuff, he'll take them out to dinner himself.

"Do we have a name?" Tim asks.

"No, and no location either. The security on the phone is too tight, Oracle could only get outgoing calls. She'll silently trigger a call to a secure line. Our side is muted. We only have until the suspect realizes the call is ongoing."

Jason sighs, tries to settle in for the next few hours. He reluctantly takes a seat in front of the computer, furthest away from Bruce. Tim, teacher’s pet that he is, pulls out a notebook and pen. Bored, Jason thinks about what he's going to do when Bruce finally lets him off the leash. His thoughts go to your apartment, your bedroom, before he remembers that after last night, he's definitely not welcome there.

He slumps down in his seat. Oh well. It's for the best.

"Call goes live in three, two, one."

The cave is silent. There are a few gentle beeps as the call connects. Quiet, then, a subtle clacking of computer keys.

He catches Tim shoot Dick a look. Well, they're in.

The clacking continues uninterrupted for a few minutes. "Location still unknown," Dick murmurs. Suddenly, there is the sound of shifting fabric. The phone is in the perp's pocket, Jason thinks.

"You done in there?" someone calls. "I just cleaned my shower, don't get it all gross. You'd better not be shaving in there."

Location known. Perp's apartment. Tim all but flies to the computer. "Searching for voice recognition," he explains. Bruce nods.

"What? I can't hear you." The audio crackles, and then there's the sound of footsteps, the rain of a shower.

"I said, relax, I'm not shaving my pubes in your apartment, you asshole."

What the fuck? Jason stiffens, then internally recoils, trying not to sit at obvious rapt attention. He quickly surveys the room to see if he got away with it. Dick seems like he's trying not to laugh, and Tim looks mortified. He feels rather than sees Bruce shift minutely in his direction. Fuck. Fuck. He may have been made.

“Unknown person. Accomplice?” Tim mutters under his breath. “Attempting voice recognition.” As if Jason needs Tim’s tricks to recognize who's on the other end of the line.

"Good, I don't what that shit clogging my drain."

"It's just pubes, moron." Jason knows that voice, knows that tone, even on the phone, where he's been a million times over the past four months. He can imagine you rolling your eyes to match. "You have them too, you know, it's not just women.”

What the fuck are you doing in their perp's shower?

"Girl pubes are gross. I'll stick to men's, thanks."

Bruce's fingers move over the keys, gently moving Tim to the side. He's definitely writing out "homosexual" in the perp's file. If Jason had anything left to spare, he'd laugh out loud. But he's too busy furiously trying to figure out what you're doing there (and if you're in danger, and if he should be jealous) while keeping his reactions to himself. He doesn't need anybody knowing about his girlfriend.

Well. Ex-girlfriend, or at least soon to be.

"Speaking of men's pubes," the perp, starts, "how's Jason?"

Oh. Fuck. Jason's tongue shoots to the roof of his mouth. He doesn't think anybody noticed. Except Bruce. Maybe. He still might be in the clear. There are a lot of Jasons, but if you keep talking about him eventually Gotham's greatest detective is going to put two and two together.

He can almost taste vomit again as the thought crosses his mind. That would actually be really, really bad. Bruce wouldn't hesitate to use Jason's connection to you as a way to move forward on the case, Jason’s feelings be damned.

"He's okay. I mean, I think. I haven't seen him in a few days."

"Really? Is that weird, does he do that often?"

"Nah. Well, nah, yeah, he does it often," you say with a laugh. "It's fine, he always resurfaces." The trust evident in your voice grates against his skin, then settles warmly in his heart, then drops to his stomach. That was one of the things he liked most about you, that you didn't question his weird schedule or habits. Though he never allowed himself to think about what that might mean, how that meant you felt about him. It hurts more than he expected to hear it now, to have you connect the dots so clearly in front of him.

"What does Jason even look like? You've never actually told me." Shit.

"I dunno," you muse. "He's tall. Blue eyes, black hair.”

Jason hears Tim shift in his seat, feels Dick's eyes on him. Shit. Shit.

"You're bad at descriptions," the perp sniffs. "Here, let me find him. What's his last name?"

Your sheepish chuckle echoes through the cave. "Uh, I actually don't know."

The perp snorts. "Well, you're a goddamn idiot."

"Thanks, dipshit. His profile said Jason T."

Jason swears, swears, he doesn't react, but it doesn't matter. They know him too well. They have him. "Holy shit," Tim whispers. Dick lets out a low chuckle. "Putting yourself out there, Little Wing?"

Bruce clears his throat. "Name?" he asks Jason. Of course that's the only thing on his mind right now.

Jason shakes his head. "No fucking way," he snarls.

"Good enough," the perp answers. The sound of the shower fades as he walks back to the computer in what must be another room.

Soon the clack of computer keys crackles across the line. Jason braces himself. Let's see how dangerous this hacker really is.

Another comm line buzzes to life. "This is Oracle," Barbara announces. "Someone's putting out a search for Jason T, dipping into some private data. I swept everything out with your face and name."

At almost the same time-- "What the fuck kind of website are you on now?" you call from the shower.

"CCTV footage. GCPD and private contracts."

"Oracle," Bruce barks. "Any CCTV footage?" Jason wishes he were anywhere else. Surely, surely, he doesn't need to be here for this nightmare.

"GCPD footage is protected," she answers quickly. "Checking now. Wait--"

"Got it!" the perp sings. "Data breach," Oracle reports. "They got you, Hood."

"Noted," Bruce grunts. "Any connection between Jason and Red Hood?"

"Negative. Shutting them out now." Barbara's fingers fly over the keys.

If anything, the perp's are even faster. "Fuck, he's so hot. Holy shit. You didn't mention he's ripped. " Dick bumps Jason's shoulder, then easily dodges Jason's punch. "Red Hood," Bruce intones.

"Don't start," Jason threatens.

"Someone's trying to kick me out," perp calls to you. "I've got, maybe, fifteen seconds. Just enough time to zoom in on his ass."

The sound of the shower stops, plastic rustling as you pull back the curtain. "Yeah, zoom in on his ass."

"Wow. I hope you're fucking that shit up," the perp says. This is officially too much for Jason. He feels himself start to turn red.

There's the sound of footsteps again. Maybe it's in his head, but Jason feels like he recognizes it, the pad of your bare feet across the floor. "Don't worry. I'm eating that shit out every day of the week and twice on Sundays." Jason almost shits his pants as Tim sputters and Dick cackles.

"Quiet," Bruce commands. Jason wants to punch him.

"--disgusting," the perp is saying. "I can't believe you do that."

"I can't believe you don't," you shoot back. "Aren't fags supposed to love that?"

"Watch it," the perp warns. For a flash of a moment, Jason wonders if he's going to get angry at you, if you're in any danger. If he should rush in and save the day, if he has an excuse to see you again.

"Do you have to specify that in your Grindr profile?" you press on, delighted.

"Everyone's different, you cunt." The perp's voice is fond, and Jason relaxes slightly. "Speaking of which--" the line muffles and shakes for a moment. "I got a message I need to look at."

Grindr profile, Jason mentally notes. The sound is clearer now, the perp must have taken the phone out of his pocket. "Hm. I think this man needs a dick pic," the perp says thoughtfully. There's the metallic sound of fingers fumbling with a belt buckle.

"Christ, are you taking one now?" For the first time, Jason stops to wonder what your relationship is with this guy. Are you friends? Did you used to hook up? He tries to ignore the jealousy rising in his blood.

"Yeah," the perp sounds unconcerned. "Hurry up and get dressed, I can't get it up with a naked woman in the room."

Jason winces. He looks over at the others. Tim looks almost green in the face, and Dick is grimacing. This is quickly turning into porn audio, not exactly something he wants to listen to with Dick and Tim, much less Bruce. There's the sound of the phone being set down. Jason prays it's far enough away that it doesn't pick up what the perp is doing now.

"Do you want help?" you say after a moment. Tim gasps and whips his head toward Jason. Squeezing his eyes shut, Jason grits his teeth. He doesn't know what he did to deserve listening to you jerk someone off with his whole fucking family next to him.

Thankfully, thankfully, the perp snorts. "No!" he sneers as you cackle in the background. "I don't want your gross women hands anywhere near my dick." No past hook ups, then.

"You are so close to misogyny that if you're not careful it's going to smack you in the face."

"That's not what I want smacking me in the face," the perp sighs. "Hence, the dick pic."

"Well, you've got your work cut out for you,” you say. “You have the most hideous flaccid penis I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“Shut up,” the perp snaps. “It’s normal!”

“Hit a nerve did I?” You’re clearly amused. It makes Jason miss you enough to shake his head. Ugh. Apparently the alcohol didn’t flush the sad out of him.

“C’mon, help me out here,” the perp says, ignoring you. “What do you think of when you want to flick your bean?”

“Jason,” you say instantly. It makes him grow warm, then sick.

“Wow, she’s got it bad for you,” Dick murmurs. Not for long. “Nice job, Little Wing.”

“I’m happy for you,” Tim pipes up. Jason scrubs a hand over his face. He can’t take much more of this.

“Yeah, I can see why. Can I think about him?”

“No!” you snap as the perp laughs. “Fine, I’ll just think about Nightwing’s sweet, sweet ass.”

Jason’s out of the hot seat. Finally. He looks at Dick, ready to give as good as he got. Unfortunately, Dick doesn’t look offended. He’s grinning, the arrogant ass.

“Okay, I’m good.” They hear the artificial sound of camera. “God, that took forever. Send.”

Dick’s phone pings, Grindr notification echoing through the cave.

“Holy shit,” Tim mutters. “This is the best and also worst day of my life. Can’t you two keep it in your pants?”

Dick shrugs, but he looks embarrassed. “Would you believe me if I told you it’s not for the case?”

Your voice on the line cuts across anyone who would answer. “An unsolicited dick pic?”

“Nah, he sent me one earlier. Wanna see?”

Tim sounds like he’s choking. Bruce’s jaw is working, but thank god he’s quiet. “Nah, dude. I’ll leave that for you,” you answer.

“Dick,” Bruce says lowly. Dick can’t meet his eyes. “You may have to cut off communication.”

“What? Why?” Dick protests. Bruce opens his mouth to answer, but you do it for him.

“Couldn’t you hack his phone from that? Have you ever done that before?” you wonder.

“No.” The perp is quick to answer. “That’s a line I won’t cross.”

“See? It’s fine!” Dick insists. Bruce grimaces, but doesn’t say anything. The sound of a phone going off saves Dick from further embarrassment. Jason wishes he could have caught their attention for longer. He needed a break.

“That’s you,” the perp says. “Can you see what it is?” you ask. “I’m still getting dressed.”

“Sure,” the perp says, floor creaking as he crosses the room. “It’s your mom. Want me to answer?”

“Yeah, what did she say?”

“She’s asking if she can call tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. You can let her know.”

Jason hears rustling, the sound of you pulling your clothes on. He connects it to the sound of him doing the opposite, of tugging your clothes off and tossing them to the floor.

Damn. This is harder than he thought.

“You also have a text from Jason,” the perp offers.

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh. “I’ll read it later.”

Wait? You haven’t read it yet? Jason feels rooted to the floor. No wonder you said so many nice things about him.

Shit. Shit. He shuts his eyes. He knows what’s coming next.

“Dude,” the perp says. “Dude. I think he broke up with you.”

The cave is dead silent.

“What.” Your voice is flat. “What.”

Jason rests his forearms on his hands, head hanging down between his knees. When he sent you the breakup text, he didn’t think he would have to hear you react to it.

Maybe it’s what he deserves.

“He broke up with me over text?”

“Yeah.” The perp’s voice is gentle. “Yeah. Yeah, it looks like it.” The perp pauses. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” At least you have a good friend, even if he is a wanted criminal. Not like Jason isn't, too.

“What the fuck. What the fuck.” Jason’s never heard your voice sound like that. He feels familiar bile rise in his throat. “What did he say?”

“You want me to read it to you?” Dick shoots Jason an alarmed glance. Whatever. It’s not like he has any privacy left anyway.

“Yeah. Yeah, read it to me. Actually, wait. How long is it? How many lines?”

There’s silence as the perp counts. “Four.”

“Four?!” you shriek. “Four?! That dumb motherfucker ended a four month relationship in four lines of text?”

“Jesus, Jason.” Tim mutters. Jason can’t even blame him.

“Uh…yeah.”

“Oh my god.” You’re seething. “Oh my god. I’m going to kill him.”

That’s fair.

“I’m going to kill him. I’m going to take the gun he thinks I don’t know he has taped under his mattress, and I’m going to shoot him in the penis!”

Dick bursts out laughing, but Jason has bigger problems. You found the gun?

“He’s got a gun taped under his mattress?” The perp asks, before Bruce adds “Jason, what does she know?”

“Nothing!” he yelps. “Nothing, I didn’t…” he trails off as your voice picks up again.

“Yeah, yeah, he’s some common criminal or something. His apartment’s definitely a safe house, there’s like, nothing in it and only non perishable foods. Whatever.”

“Dude, I think it’s more than whatever.” Jason agrees with the perp. You shouldn’t be with some common criminal. You shouldn’t even be with him.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now! Because he dumped me! Over text!” Your shout rings hard in Jason's ears. “Read the text to me. Read the fucking text.”

Ugh. This fucking rips. Jason would brace himself, if he had anything left to brace.

“‘I’m sorry babe. We have to end it here. It’s not you, it’s me. Hope you had fun.’” It sounded worse read aloud.

“Damn, Jay. That’s low,” Tim comments.

"'It's not you, it's me?'' Dick says incredulously. "Seriously, Little Wing?"

Shockingly, Bruce clears his throat. "Jason--"

"Nope. No. You shut the fuck up right now." Jason's anger is so quick, and blissfully distracting. "You don't get to lecture me about anything, especially this shit."

It seems like, on the line, you're matching his energy, bar for bar. “‘It’s not you, it’s me’? Is he fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack, apparently.”

You let out a small scream. Honestly, Jason didn’t know you had it in you. “Holy shit. I’m so fucking angry.”

“I can see that,” the perp says carefully. “Do you need anything?”

You seem to ignore him. “Oh my god, I am going to read this man for filth. This dumb motherfucker thinks he’s Holden Caulfield.”

Jason opens his mouth, slack-jawed, dumbfounded, as the perp lets out a sharp laugh and Dick sniggers. “Okay, yeah. Let it out, babe.”

“This dumb motherfucker watches Fight Club and thinks it doesn’t apply to him.” You’re on a roll. “This dumb motherfucker holds up any spherical object, says ‘alas, poor yorick,’ and creams his fucking pants.”

Dick and Tim are practically rolling on the floor. Jason swears he sees Bruce crack a small smile.

"This dumb motherfucker is one homoerotic experience away from a Richard Siken poem."

"I like Siken," the perp says defensively. "Come on," you sneer. "'You're in the car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you he loves you, but he loves you,'? What the fuck does that mean? He won't tell you he loves you but he does? Screw that!"

You pause, heavy breathing echoing across the line. "'He won't tell you he loves you. Why couldn't Ja--" you cut yourself off quickly. "Fuck. Fuck."

Jason squeezes his eyes shut, fingernails gripping his forearm with enough force to draw blood. He didn't realize this would upset you so much. He's done the in and out, three-month fling so many times it's hard to count. He gets close enough that the sex gets really good but not close enough that it gets messy. It's not supposed to be like this. Sure, he'd made an exception in your case, but he didn't think it would get so bad. He just couldn't help himself. You were too cute, and funny, and easy to be around. You had slid into his life like a hot knife through butter. The parts he was willing to show you, at least. Or maybe, the other parts too, he thinks, remembering your threat to shoot him with his own gun. You definitely don't have anything to do with the criminal underworld, and Jason would prefer to keep you on the surface of that. But maybe there was more than you could handle. You thought he was a common criminal, but you had stayed anyway.

And Jason's not a common criminal. Not that that's anything to take pride in, but still. He has finesse. And he's been playing by the rules enough lately that Bruce invited him back to his lair. That probably counts for something, somewhere.

And you clearly didn't mind criminals, if you were friendly enough with their perp to shower at his house and let him go through your phone. You definitely knew he was a hacker, you'd mentioned it enough times. Maybe--

"You okay, sweetheart?"

"Fuck off, Jess," you snarl.

"Yes ma'am," the perp (Jess. Name acquired) says. "I'm sorry you're upset," he adds carefully.

Right. It doesn't matter what Jason learns about you now. He ended it, and the past is the past. It might take him a bit longer than usual, but he'll get over it. He hopes you do, too.

"Ahh!" You let out a shout, then go quiet. "I know. Thanks, Jess."

"You're welcome, sweetheart." The two of you stay quiet for several minutes. Jason wonders if he's going to have to endure hearing you cry over the phone.

"He doesn't seem like he was good for you," Jess offers.

"Fuck off." Beat. "I know. But why does everything have to be good for me? Why do I--ha." You let out an acidic laugh. "'You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting."

"'You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves,'" you and Jess recite together. "Point taken," Jess adds. Jason knows Mary Oliver's Wild Geese. He just didn't know you knew it, too.

A beat. "I don't think you get to make fun of him liking Shakespeare after that," Jess observes.

You laugh humorlessly. "I know. I know. I'm acting like I'm not a fucking dork over here, too." Dick is looking at Jason very cautiously. So is Bruce.

"What are you going to do?" Jess asks after several beats of silence.

"I'm going to pick up a drug habit, that's what I'm going to do. Now seems like a great time to become an alcoholic."

"Don't," Jess says fiercely. "Don't even joke about that. You can't go back there."

"I know," you say softly. "I know."

Jesus. Jason didn't even know you'd had issues with addiction in the past. If he did, maybe he would have...done things a little differently. He can't even look at his family, can't meet their eyes. Not when he knows he may have inadvertently sent you over the edge. Holy shit. He feels sick with himself. How could he have missed that you were a little bit fucked up, just like he was?

Jason is suddenly grateful you didn't read his stupid text last night, when he had first sent it. Thank fuck you were with Jess right now.

As if to echo Jason's thoughts, Jess snarls "No. No way am I going to let this insensitive, fucking prick set you back. Not when you've come so far. You can't let him ruin you. He's not worth it."

Jason agrees.

"But what if..." you say quietly. "What if he could tell, and that's why he ended it. That there's something...awful inside of me."

"No!" Jess shouts. "No! How could you say that? There's nothing--"

You let out a choked sob, cutting Jess off. "Fuck, I'm sorry," you say desperately, voice cracking. "I just--" Shit. Shit. You sound so...broken, Jason wants to take you in his arms, tell you he didn't mean it, tell you he's got his own shit and then some, but you're perfect, and maybe you'd even understand some of it. Maybe you had more in common than he'd thought.

"It's okay, sweetheart." Jason hears footsteps, hopefully Jess was going to put you in his arms, like Jason wants to but can't.

"It just feels like...like I always have to try twice as hard. Like I have to keep myself under surveillance, like I have to be so careful. Because if I slip, it's...it's all over. And it makes me feel like I'm not good enough."

Jason knows what that one feels like.

"Listen to me. Listen," Jess implores you. "You don't have to be perfect. It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone slips. Recovery is not a straight line. It's okay."

"I know," you say, voice resigned. "I know."

"And you're doing so well. Two years without touching anything! Even when you lost your job, and your sister got sick. You're so strong, sweetheart."

"Thanks," you say quietly.

The two of you stay silent for several minutes. It gives Jason more than enough time to consider his next move. Should he text you an apology? Is it too late for that? Does he still want to be with you? Yeah, no shit. His hangover is proof enough that he won't be able to get you out of his mind. And it sounds like you're more alike than either of you realized.

Suddenly, Jess's computer dings with an alert, disrupting the silence. There's a shift as Jess walks over. "Oh, shit," he murmurs. "I got in."

The tension in the cave ticks up even higher. "Oracle," Bruce says evenly, "brace for an attack."

"What happened?" you ask, voice still raw.

"I got into the GCPD protected records." Jess breathes. "Fuck yes. I'm going to dox the shit out of those crooked cops and the politicians Black Mask has in his pocket."

"He's out for blood," you comment with a shaky laugh.

"That motherfucker has it coming, after what he did to my father. If I can't get at Sionis directly, I'll chip away at his stupid empire until he's left with nothing." The floorboards creak as Jess settles himself at the computer. "Are you okay?" he offers distractedly. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I need to tune out, I have to--" he trails off, as the clicks of a keyboard start coming through across the line.

"Don't worry about it," you say, but Jason thinks, worries, you might be putting on a brave face.

"Okay. Okay. I'm going to put in headphones. I'm sorry sweetheart," Jess says again, "but this is the chance I've been waiting for."

"Don't worry," you say. "I get it. Do your thing."

Jess must put in headphones with the music blasting, because they can hear it faintly through the call line. The cave is alive as Bruce barks orders at Oracle while Tim all but shoves him out of the way, flinging himself down at the keyboard and getting to work blocking Jess out.

Whatever. Jason doesn't care, if anything, he cares less than he did before. He's all for getting rid of crooked cops, any hit to Black Mask is a win in his book. He's only still here because you're still on the line.

The call is silent, save for Jess clacking away. Finally, Jess' phone picks up your voice again.

"Fuck. Fuck. I can't fucking do this. I need a drink. I need a fucking drink," you mutter.

Jason rises to his feet, just as Dick says "I think you gotta go, Jaybird."

He knows that. His feet are already leading him towards his motorcycle. But where--?

"I've got a location," Tim whispers. Jason turns to him eagerly, but he's not even looking at him. He's looking at Bruce.

Jason's seething. If that asshole thinks he's going to beg and plead for this--

"Go ahead, Jay," Bruce says gently, seemingly without thinking twice. "We can handle him from here."

Gratitude flooding through him, Jason turns on his heel and moves. He's on his bike in what feels like seconds, speeding towards the location Tim had sent into the bike's GPS.

He just hopes he makes it to you before you're too far gone.

[lunarphoria]

☽☾God of War & Courage☽☾

The premiere of ✨Phoebe's WIPs✨ who dis ? /lh

I thought that it'd be fitting if the first one I show you all is of Lord Ares !

As you can obviously tell, it's not nearly finished :') but I still think it's nice enough to share! Hope you like it <3 further down, I wrote down some notes on my design choices in case anyone is interested !!

NOW , my design notes :

I based the armor on ancient greek hoplites (though i obviously took some creative liberties ) , the floral imagery is supposed to be violets , since I associate them with him ( he doesn't have any sacred plants so this is upg ) . His main color is various shades of purple since I never really liked it when people solely put him in red :') plus it's a really nice color and I think it compliments the darker , more dull tones really nicely . My main inspirations come from his sacred birds , vultures & owls . I specifically associate Bearded Vultures with him ( e.g, the dark markings under his eyes and overall his eye color come from them ) . The hair strands that kinda look like ears on top of his head are a nod to the feather tufts of eagle owls , and I specifically ( tried to ) make him look younger since ancient Greek warriors were usually pretty young too . His helmet is horned as a way for him to match with his parents , who both have the horns of a cow / bull . The scales around his eyes and hands , as well as the claws, are referencing snakes & dragons who are sacred to him , as are the spikes on his greaves and the lower arm protection . The feathered " collar" is referencing Himalayan vultures, and the rest of the cape would have the patterns of an eagle owl mixed with a bearded vulture ^^ the cape maybe has the ability to turn into wings should he need them methinks ^^ also , i draw every Olympian with the golden laurel wreath behind them , as a way to show their status :3

( Also I MIGHT edit this post to include the finished drawing once I get it done )

( divider made by me <3 )

[forever-rogue]

Hey! Can I get a Din x reader where a droid goes rogue and attacks and hurts the reader and obviously as we all know Din HATES droids and this just triple enforces that? ANGST. Droids are genuinely so terrifying and I feel this would be a good plot.

AN | Please, this was such a good concept! Enjoy🥰

Warnings | Nondescript mention of injury

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.8k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Din,” you caught up to him and reached for his hand, giving it an excited little squeeze, “I’ve found something exciting!”

“Slow down, cyar’ika,” you could hear the amusement in his voice as he kept you upright as you almost tripped over your own feet, “don’t need you hurting yourself.”

“Sorry,” you grinned at him, cheeks warming up as you slowed down and fell into step with him and Grogu, “I got excited - obviously.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he squeezed your hand in return as Grogu babbled happily, “just be careful - now tell me what’s so exciting?”

“I was just talking a walk around and I came across this little store,” you waved your around as you often had a tendency to do, much to your husband’s amusement, “kind of an out of the way place - don’t worry it wasn’t that bad - and they sell droids there! All kinds of different-”

“Droids,” he echoed as you offered him a sheepish smile. He’d had a long and complicated relationship with droids and you were pretty sure he was on a downward trend with them at the moment. You stepped in front of him and started walking backwards so you could grab both of his hands and look at him with a saccharine smile, “you are….what is so exciting about these things?”

“They’re all rescued and reprogrammed,” you insisted but you knew there was still a frown under the helmet, “so they’re clean slates. And they have protocol droids and gonk droids and R2 units!” 

“Mhmm…go on,” he insisted softly, wondering where this was going, “tell me more.”

“I just…I’ve always loved the old R2 units,” you prefaced, waiting for his little telltale sigh, “and I think it could be helpful to have one around…you know for when we’re busy with stuff. Or I could have some company if you’re gone and I can’t come.”

“Busy,” he echoed as you nodded, hoping you were doing enough to sell him on the idea, “I don’t know…there’s no real need is there?”

“Oh Din, we could use it for lots of things!” your eyes grew wide with excitement and your smile was beaming, “and it could be fun. Plus, it’d be a rescue little droid….you do have a tendency for liking rescues after all.”

You and Grogu exchanged a look before you turned back to him. He’d found and helped nurse you back to health and ended up taking you under his wing, just as he had Grogu. Din knew you had a point and looked between the two of you, hands on his hips and finally letting out his little sigh, “okay-”

“Yay!”

“Okay, we can take a look and then go from there,” he finished and you practically jumped into his arms in excitement. You wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug as best as you could with all of his armor on, “alright, alright - don’t get too excited. No promises are being made here.”

“I know,” you promised, but deep down you knew that Din hardly ever said no to you. You pressed your forehead against the cool beskar of his helmet, “I love you.”

“I know cyar’ika,” he touched your cheek, “I love you too.”

Grogu babbled happily at both of you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Look at him,” your hands were clenched at your sides in excitement as you tried to appear as calm as possible. You were pretty sure (dramatic as Din would insist) that you were about to combust from the cuteness, “isn’t he the cutest thing in the world?!”

Grogu tugged on the leg of your pants and gurgled at you with a concerned little look on his face. You reached down and scooped him into your arms, placing a gentle kiss on his head. He relaxed into your touch as you grinned at him. Din, meanwhile, was much less impressed, looking down at the R2 unit in front of him with disdain. 

He was an older unit, a remnant from the era of the Clone Wars, but was reset and given a second chance at life. He was more on the square side, but a pretty silver and dark pink color. In your eyes he was perfect - to Din he was a menace. 

“Are you sure?” he turned towards and when he saw the big smile on your face, he already knew that this droid was the newest member of your family. You looked at him and nodded shyly, “you’re sure.”

“Please Din?” you were absolutely willing to use Grogu as a manipulation tool if needed, “I won’t ever ask for anything again. He’ll be so useful to help around the house and everything!”

“I don’t know about that,” you could detect the disdain in his voice, but you appreciated the fact that he was willing to make this sacrifice and be more open-minded, “but if it’ll make you happy, it’s worth it.”

“You won’t regret this,” you kissed the spot where his cheek would be, the smile on your face switched from ear to ear, “I promise.”

“Hmmm,” he mused softly, tracing his fingers along your jaw, “let’s get him home then and we can see what he can do."

"Thank you," your eyes grew soft as you looked up at him, "for always being so wonderful. You truly are the best."

"Nothing to thank me for," he promised, his own features growing soft under the helmet. If it hadn't been for the armor, he might have melted into a puddle. You were his weakness and he'd do whatever you asked of him, he'd do whatever you wanted in order to put a smile on your face. You and Grogu were the beat of his heart and the blood that rushed through his veins - essential. There was no life or reality which he could imagine that the two of you weren't in.

"I know," you whispered, "but still - thank you. I love you so terribly much."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your new droid friend, named R-4Z and affectionately nicknamed Arezy, fit right into the home you'd built along with Din and Grogu. He helped around with chores both outside and inside and often liked to play with Grogu. More than anything he was good company when you were left alone.

Left alone was a dramatic way of putting it - there were times when you couldn't accompany Din and Grogu due to either working at your little apothecary or Din asking to remain behind. It used to make your skin prickle with hurt and annoyance but you knew that it was only because he wanted you safe. Nowadays it was more endearing than anything else. Unlike your boys, you didn't possess any tactical training and weren't force sensitive. But you were the brains of the operation as Din so sweetly put it.

This particular weekend found you and Arezy by yourselves. You'd decided to give your little shop a revamp since you had the time and the season was changing. You were puttering around, giving your companion directions for a few things as you did the other tasks.

You were enjoying your conversation with your friend but after a bit you noticed that you were basically speaking to yourself.

"Arezy?" you asked softly as you walked out of the small back room and towards the front. Nothing seemed amiss at first but then you heard some angry beeping, "what's wrong, buddy?"

The answer you were treated came into the form of a sharp shock in your side, the jab making you yelp in surprise and pain. You turned around to find the droid behind you, its arm out and pointed towards you. He started coming closer and beeping angrily - it was completely different from anything you’d seen before.

“What are you doing?” you grew worried as you ducked out of his way, trying to put some distance between the two of you, “what’s wrong?”

Apparently he didn’t want to talk because he kept trying to come after you. If you weren’t worried about actually getting hurt, you might have laughed; it was probably hilarious to watch this droid rolling after you. But he wasn’t one to be underestimated either, he could deal damage if he wanted to. 

Which you found out the hard way when he set out some tripwire and you…managed to trip right over it. You landed on the hard concrete with a loud oof, and untangled the wire from between your legs, trying to ignore the fact that you’d managed to scrape your knee and it was now bleeding. 

Your hands were shaking but you finally managed to break free, but not before he managed to come up and give you a few more shocks. They didn’t seem like much, but they did hit deep and shook you up.

Luckily it didn’t last very long - Arezy shut down as quickly as he had turned on. 

“Kriff,” you scrambled to your feet, stepping back just in case. You looked up and found Din standing there with Grogu at his side; you didn’t need to see his face to know there was a giant scowl on it.

“What happened?” he came over and took your face in his hands, looking to make sure there wasn’t too much damage. Your lip trembled with effort not to cry; you weren’t terribly hurt but you were more shaken up than anything else. You just hadn’t seen this coming. You heard him make a small sound in the back of his throat as you he took in your knee and the bruising that was already welling up on your arms, “cyar’ika…”

"I'm okay," you let out a shaky breath as you blinked back your tears, "I-I don't know what happened. He was just fine and then all of a sudden he just started attacking me. I didn't do anything and nothing happened."

He gently took your chin in his hand and turned your face up to his. Despite your best efforts, a few tears slipped down your cheeks and Din didn't hesitate to tenderly wipe them away, "droids."

"It's not," you didn't want this to further taint his view of droids, "it just happened. It was just an accident. These things just happen sometimes."

"The bad things always come from droids," he huffed as you sadly looked at Arezy, “what if…I hadn’t gotten here in time?”

“But you did,” you whispered softly, “that’s all that matters, Din. It was just…a malfunction. It’s an old droid, and I’m sure he can be repaired-”

“No.”

“Din-”

“I said no,” he said sharply, causing you to recoil slightly. He’d almost never snapped at you or spoken to you in any sort of harsh manner. Grogu had siddled up to you and hugged your leg, trying to convey the love he carried, “we’re going home.”

“Okay,” you weren’t about to argue with him when he was worried out of his mind. You knew your Mandalorian better than that. You knew that he’d come around - his heart was way bigger than he’d ever let or believed it was.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Din had been mostly silent on the way home. WHen you stepped inside, there was a bit of tension in the air. You wished it wasn’t there, but you knew that it wouldn’t last. Things might have been bad in the moment but they wouldn’t last; the good always far outweighed the bad. You weren’t going to push him - you wanted him to come to his own conclusions. 

“C’mon,” he picked you up without hesitation, causing you to make a small sound of surprise as he walked you into the fresher. You felt like you were weightless in his strong embrace. 

He set you down and moved to slowly pull off your pants, after looking for permission. You sat on the edge of the tub and watched as he pulled off his helmet in order to properly study your knee. It wasn’t the worst, but it certainly looked bad. 

He pulled out the first-aid kit from under the bathroom sink, and took out what he needed. You watched as he moved with care to patch up the wound, making sure it was all clean and disinfected before bandaging it up. He trailed his fingers along your arms, taking in each mark. You could see the worry and upset in those pretty brown eyes. 

“Din,” you whispered his name, capturing back his attention as you put your hand on his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek, “look at me please.”

After a moment of hesitation his eyes met yours and you offered him a small smile. He swallowed thickly, “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Ever.”

“I know,” you could feel him gently leaning into your cheek, “I know you don’t, my love. I don’t ever want anything to happen to you either. I’ll keep you safe, just like you always keep me safe.”

“I couldn’t today-”

“What happened today was a fluke,” you insisted softly, “it could have happened to anyone. If it hadn’t happened to me, it would have happened to whoever else got him. That’s just it, that’s life. But the thing is, Din, you did rescue me.”

“You’re so forgiving,” he took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “you always see the bright side.”

“I think it’s not too bad of a way to live,” you laughed softly, and Din couldn’t help but smile. He swore the sound of your voice was the best thing in the world, “it’s how I got you to let me, isn’t it? Look where we are now.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head fondly at you, “I guess you’re not wrong, cyar’ika.”

“I’m not,” you insisted, “will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t let this one moment, this one thing ruin your perception of all droids,” you insisted and you could hear his little huff, “please? I promise this won’t ever happen again.”

“I’ll try,” he promised and you could feel that he was being honest with you, “for you, I’ll try.”

“You’re a good man, Din Djarin,” you leaned in and kissed him softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Almost a month had passed since the incident and neither of you had brought it up again. You figured it was better to let things happen as they did.

But then Din managed to surprise you once again.

“Din?” you made it back from the market with Grogu at your feet, both of you carrying some food. He hadn’t come with you, insisting that he had a few things to do at home. You let yourself in and the two of you made it to the kitchen. But something was different, something was off.

You heard a few small beeps that caused you to turn on your heel to find the source of the noise. In the opposite doorway you found Din along with-”

“Arezy!” you almost dropped the goods in your arms, but Grogu was faster and kept everything from falling. You ran over to the droid and dropped your knees in order to give him a hug. He beeped merrily at you, “you’re back! Oh, I’ve missed you. I hope you’re feeling all better.”

“He is,” Din smiled softly, “I took him to Anzellans and they were able to fix him right up. There was some sort of issue with the motherboard, but it’s been fixed.”

“You did this,” you took up and hugged him. He chuckled softly before wrapping his arms tightly around, “you sweet, wonderful man. I can’t believe it…how? Why?”

“Accidents happen,” he echoed your words from earlier, “but that doesn’t mean they have to cloud our opinions of everything else. I listen sometimes, cyar’ika. I figured that if you decided that you can forgive him and move past what happened, I can do the same.”

“You’re a wise man,” you kissed his cheek, “listening to your riduur. Thank you for this. You’re…the best.”

“That is you,” he promised and Grogu cooed happily from where he was climbing onto Arezy, “I’m glad you’re happy, cyar’ika.”

“I am,” you grinned, “and I am very much in love with you too. You are everything, Din.”

“You,” he grinned as he took your face and pressed kisses all over it, “are everything. I love you.”

“I love you, Din Djarin.”

[takaraphoenix]

Polympians Event!

Clarifying right off the gate: This does NOT mean exclusively Percy x poly Olympians, it means any god/Percy ship.

EDIT: I made a sideblog for the event: @polympians-event

EDIT 2: Here's the link to the AO3 collection!

What is the Polympians Event?

What I have in mind is an open event for any and all god/Percy ships. You ship Percy with only one god? Fill the prompts with only that ship! You sail many different god/Percy ships? Fill each prompt with a different ship, if you want! A full Percy/Olympians poly ship, OT3 or any poly constellation? Primordial gods, titans or non-Olympian gods? Any god(s)/Percy ship goes!

I've seen, in recent years, that god/Percy ships have gained quite some traction and I love that, so much. But while there are bigger ships that do have their own events, there are also the tiny rarepairs that don't get these chances, and even with the bigger ones, not everyone has the time/energy to participate in all their ships' events. So one blanket event, where the biggest of god/Percy ships and the rarest of god/Percy ships are equally welcome.

Are there rules to this?

Yes, but only the most basic. No ship bashing or harassment of other participants. The event is open to all god/Percy ships, which means people will participate with your NOTPs too. Don't like them? Don't read them. Instead, focus on the new content to your own ships! If you can't be a civil, normal person about this, then this event isn't for you.

Whether you want to write smut or not is entirely up to you, but you ought to tag appropriately!

What's the plan?

I chose the dates of the Lightning Thief quest for this event! Meaning it will run from May 28th (Percy waking up at CHB) to June 21st (Percy returning the Master Bolt and Helmet).

That length works out well for there to be 12 prompts, and you would have two days to post each prompt, plus an additional 13th prompt on the last day, to keep with the theme of the Olympians.

I'll get an AO3 collection started to which you can submit your entries on AO3 and, if there would be interest in it, I could start a sideblog specifically for this event to which entries (with proper ship tags so you can filter out your NOTPs) will be reblogged as a signal boost.

What are the prompts?

May 28th/29th: Roman

May 30th/31st: wedding/marriage

June 1st/2nd: The sea does not like to be restrained

June 3rd/4th: family focus

June 5th/6th: jealous/possessive [god]

June 7th/8th: role-swap AU (god!Percy/demigod![god])

June 9th/10th: Modern AU/no powers

June 11th/12th: metamorphosis/shapechange

June 13th/14th: godly gifts

June 15th/16th: Aphrodite ships it

June 17th/18th: Percy accepts godhood

June 19th/20th: yearning/pining

June 21st: Mythology

And because I'm bad at phrasing short prompts, here some explanations on what I had in mind with them, though you are of course free to interpret them in whatever manner you read them!

Roman: could mean the Roman aspect of the god, a Roman!Percy AU, or whatever else you want to make of it!

family focus: Are Percy and the god married with children of their own? Percy as step-parent to campers? The god meeting Sally, Paul and/or Tyson?

metamorphosis/shapechange: the gods have a track-record of turning people into animals or plants. Does this mean full animal, or catboy/other hybrid? Is this angst or fluff?

godly gifts: magic powers granted to Percy, or literal physical gifts to court, or something else?

Aphrodite ships it: Aphrodite as wing-woman, hyping and helping, can also very much include Aphrodite/Percy since she would be her own biggest shipper

Mythology: could be a mythological AU where Percy takes on a role from the past, or specific elements of a tale that recur, anything

Let me know if you're interested so I know I won't be hosting this just for myself!

[worldbeyondtheworld]

AU in which the Voices accidentally get separated from the Long Quiet. He and the Princess escape into the larger than canon construct, which here is a living place.

The Narrator sends them into the woods where the two are hiding and tells them the story that "the Hero was cursed into a beast, and you are here to guide him out and save him". The Long Quiet is still the same as canon and was never human, but that's difficult to sell in a location where everybody else is human and has bias.

The Voices also look like or similar to him, so the Narrator disguises and hides their appearance by shaping them with cloaks, helmets, armor, clothes, etc.

Original post plus reblog with more information here:

https://www.tumblr.com/worldbeyondtheworld/770387804645621760

I don't even have a name yet, or many ideas how the mechanics of the AU would work, or if it's a offshot from canon / something else, or the story, or the narrative structure.

I already have several scenarios and scenes haunting my mind:

--

Spectre makes an appearance to misdirect the adventurers / Voices. She looks alive to them, sticks her tongue out, runs behind a tree, and vanishes. As they look for her to no avail, a ghostly hand emerges from the tree and removes some of their blades from their belts. (Short blades just feel right, you know?)

The Voices only notice when they come upon a barrier of brambles between them and their goal, and find they have less blades to cut through than they thought.

--

Voice of the Hero loses his shit entirely at some point and tries to kill the other Voices in a panicking frenzy. He's scarily strong like this, stronger than even Smitten or Stubborn.

--

Voice of the Cheated leaps into the air from the excitement of getting wings. He doesn't have experience in using them yet. Before he can crash into anything, TLQ catches him in his palms. He shows him how to glide down, and Cheated lands safely.

--

(Version of the) Princess encounters all of the Voices without their disguises. She has a crisis because they all look like TLQ.

What's she supposed to do, surrounded by 12 of such attractive beings??? She gets so, so flustered, which flusters some of them in return.

--

TLQ for some reason is the one standing on the Princess' shoulders instead of the other way round to reach some fruit. And no, it's not Adversary/Adversary-adjacent. Both are puzzled when questioned why they are doing it like this.

(Warning for canon-typical topics under the cut. It's also long.)

--

Nobody can ever agree on what creature TLQ is supposed to be.

Things people have thought he is include: A giant bird (opinions differ on which bird, too), a black phoenix, an omen made manifest, a winged bear, a harpy, a gryphon, a dragon...

The Narrator: (Lie, because TLQ isn't cursed, but also genuinely annoyed) "What does it matter what he was cursed into?"

--

The Princess, craving comfort for herself and him, watches for wagons going through (but close to the edge of) or close by the woods. Whenever she can, she sneaks close and takes some food and drink.

Sometimes, people going through gift her things, perceiving her only to be a young woman living a difficult life. Which is true. After some bad experiences, she hides herself in a tattered cloak so people won't connect her to the idea of a princess or recognize her face from the Wanted Posters.

The woods are big, but still finite. She acts all over at different places, close to where bandits sometimes hide, to hide her traces. Nobody is supposed to find their shelters.

The next set of wagons is more heavily guarded. She's been miserable, no matter how much TLQ has been trying to comfort her, so she risks it. If only for the the thrill and distraction it provides. Usually in the routes, she's discovered and always flees without being seen properly.

At the start of a set of specific routes, some of the Voices are present. Hunted notices her and alerts the guards who circle her. She leaps and jumps across them, back into the safety between the trees, but losing her cloak - it was grabbed - and revealing her appearance as well as that she has some kind of supernatural agility. Hunted uses the scent from her cloak to track her down.

--

"Um."

He now understood what his companion meant. He stared up, and up, and UP at the Hero. His shoulders tucked in under his unwavering stare. It was so dark he couldn't see his face - only the white of his eyes - to gauge his reactions.

"You're taller than I imagined." That was what came out of his mouth??

"Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment."

????? Why did the Hero's voice sound like that of his companion???

--

All of the Voices feel drawn to the Princess, although they might not notice depending on her shape and the circumstances.

All of the Voices also feel drawn to the TLQ, in a different way, although they might not notice.

--

Several scenarios have outside groups interferring because of their own agenda and beliefs, but always because of something the Voices did.

In one, several people agitated by fearmongering, set trees and shrubbery on fire at various edges of the woods. Soon, the entire forest is burning. Depending on their actions, the Voices die alone, together, with the Princess and TLQ, in fear or in peace, or TLQ somehow throws them + Princess over the fire to safety.

In another, specific Voices can betray the location of the Princess and TLQ to some shady mercenaries to get some help. They might believe that he's under her thrall and needs to be escorted out. Or it's for power and safety. Or they want an escort for her safety.

The mercenaries lie in ambush - but not to do any of these things. No. While their exact motivations might differ, they capture TLQ for his powers, and abuse him because they don't care about him. They'd have done the same to the her if she didn't escape. No matter what choices they made before, or what they believe, the Voices as well as the Narrator feel horrible about what they've done, and what could've happened to the Princess on top of everything else.

Every iteration, the Den appears in rage before anybody can step out of the woods. She DOES not appreciate the betrayal and the abuse of her first and closest friend and companion.

--

At least one route is there where all Voices appear and they watch in horror at what is happening to TLQ because of them / because they couldn't stop what was happening. It could be in the above scenario.

It could be another capture scenario, only with the context that the Voices intended to capture TLQ to 'heal' him or make sure he cannot hurt anybody. He's simply too powerful. People murmur around them. They're sitting down to eat, morose, after his cries and bellows quiet, and they get handed soup with a strange flavor. Voice of the Cheated finds a black feather in his bowl after some bites and has an impending feeling of dread. Upon demand where the meat comes from, the cook laughs and says that they butchered the bird. Did you know that you can gain this bird's immense powers if you consume part of its flesh?

Scrambling, the Voices run for the cage, only to find it empty. There's blood everywhere- and there. At the edge of the camp is a stake. And on top of that stake sits a head.

Or a mob descends onto TLQ, and when they try to defend him, they get knocked down and tied up. They watch as he, miserable, is treated as nothing more than a beast as weapons are raised. They kill him. The same weapons get turned on them because they dared to defend this creature and the Princess, and they're monsters under their cloaks, too.

--

The Princess strangles the Voice of the Opportunist. She got almost killed and TLQ is in a cage being tortured, and Is This What You Wanted?? He was so kind to you, so considerate, and this is how you repay him??? For what, power, when everybody else will know what a backstabber you are, and do their best to topple you?

Opportunist is unable to even raise his hands to try save himself. He knows that he fucked up. He knows this is his fault. He cannot pretend that TLQ or the Princess deserve this. He didn't want this, but his wants don't matter in the face of the consequences.

And she's right. Nobody is in power forever. He can feel the ire and envy directed at him by others. He's witnessed others like him. They outnumber him, because none of the Voices will help him.

[msbunnat]

In your design of Zeus what made you give him wings on his head? At first when I saw him I confused him with Hypnos.

I wanted to give him something I assossiate with his animal representation (the eagle) and how a lot of his childrem also re bird related I wanted to show it on the face. And I just thought it looks cool and kinda angelic...

Also, there re bull sprinkles on him too. I wasent able to show much the fullbody of him, but his feet dosent have all fingers(?), because its conect to resemble a bull foot. And as the gods image changes with their emotions, he became more animalistc depending the situation (he grows horns and tail and more wings, or even get on his true form).

*Plus a lore point that I imagine is that one of the reasons Hermes uses the helmet with wings to look like his father (to add a complex).

[determinedowl23]

My own Voices designs!! I wanted each of them to have their own distinct color and article of clothing, which was inspired by @bubblybloob’s designs for them. Individual notes below the cut:

Broken: I wanted his outfit to look haggered and worn. At first I was thinking to have his outfit be like a medieval prisoner’s, but I also added elements of friar robes to go along with Tower’s offer of making us a priest for her. I also made his beak chipped and made it that he doesn’t have the lower set of feathers on his wings (Idk what they’re called- primaries and secondaries I think?)

Cheated: I was stuck on Cheated for so long lol I had no idea what I wanted to do for him. I asked a friend for some medieval outfit ideas and eventually he came up with an executioner and I loved it. He is bitter about his death to Razor. He wants to find a way to kill her himself and will do anything to make sure, even consistently sacrificing LQ in order to get more Voices and become more powerful. And there’s the obvious blade theme going on. I’m pretty sure I had a third reason for it that I forgot too 💀 Now that I’m thinking about it, the Razor route actually kinda mirrors the Witch route, but the roles are swapped…

Cold: I wanted him to wear something an assassin would wear, so I just gave him a cloak lol. I thought that would be a little boring, so I made the front of it look like a scarf. Because…….. he’s Cold.

Contrarian: The obvious thing to do was make him a jester, so I did. The top half of his collar and the color are inspired by Sophist because the Party Crashers brainrot never leaves (I’m watching the Vernias Subathon as I’m writing this post) and if you’ve seen even one of his videos- especially a Mario Party one, you’ll know that he and Contrarian have basically the same personality.

Hero: He’s the main guy, and obviously a hero, so I gave him a knight helmet and cape. The color of the helmet feather changes based on what your Chapter II is (ex. his feather will be magenta during Damsel to match Smitten, and it will stay magenta during Burned Grey. Honestly I may change this lmao) and it’s black in the endgame sequence. He also shifts his cape so that the clasp is in the center during the endgame.

Hunted: Hunted has a torn and tattered vest that’s green to help with camouflage. He and Paranoid have the largest eyes, both because they are always on the lookout for a threat, but it’s more obvious for him and his prey nature. He’s the best flier of all the voices- in fact, he honestly might be the only one who can fly.

Opportunist: Sleazy loser car salesman. He’s the most put together (physically) of them all, and uses this clean look to make himself look “professional” so he can weasel his way out of a sticky situation. I might change his yellow to something less bright, I’m not sure if I like it. I just wanted to make sure his color was distinct enough from Hero’s and Skeptic’s.

Paranoid: His hat and shoulder cape are that of a plague doctor’s, since he single-handedly keeps you alive during Nightmare, and even when Hero takes over the Heart Lungs Liver Nerves™ it’s still Paranoid who’s calling the shots that he thinks are the best. He and Hunted have the best self-preservation skills and best survival instincts.

Skeptic: Honestly Skeptic’s personality was hard for me to identify when I first met him, but I view him as someone who’s skepticism comes from a place of curiosity and an itch to learn as much as he can before coming to a definite conclusion. So I gave him a stereotypical detective cape

Smitten: He’s a bard serenading his beloved Princess! His vibrant magenta outfit represents his love for the darling Damsel <3 His outfit was pretty straightforward lmao. Also, his and Opportunist’s chest feathers are meant to resemble an ascot.

Stubborn: Originally I wanted to make him look like a gladiator, but I didn’t want to give him armor so that Hero would feel more distinct from the others. Plus, he just wants an all out brawl where you and your opponent are even, and if he doesn’t believe in traps, I don’t think he’d believe in armor. Because of that, he doesn’t care too much about clothing. A simple sash will do- a red one so that the bloodstains will blend in. He has a scar over his chest and his eye he gained from the fight with the Princess in Chapter I.

[handspunyarns]

You Were Marked: Days Twenty-Seven to Twenty-Nine (Din, Part II).

pairing: din djarin x *reverse age-gap* *plus-size* fem!O/C       

word count: 7.4K   

chapter summary: Din returns to Unmanarall to search for Marathel. 

warnings:  angst, medical emergency, animal death, mention of physical illness / blood / violence / murder / suicide / rape / child rape / child sexual abuse / child death / object rape, English and Mando’a cursing      

***Please feel free to comment, kvetch, or otherwise speak your mind about my work. ***   

You Were Marked: Masterlist      

You Were Marked: <- Previous Chapter 

Din had the sudden sensation that a TIE fighter crash-landed on his chest, and he lurched upward towards what he believed was the excessively rude pilot who apparently couldn’t land worth a damn, uttering a gurgling rebuke as he grabbed his blaster. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA!” yelled the pilot. 

“I’ll blast you both apart!” shouted Din, leaning on his elbow and alternating his blaster between the two men who hovered over him, his brain misfiring in every direction. 

One of the men, wearing a light blue uniform, looked at the spent hypos in his hand and muttered, “Holy shit, I can’t believe that worked.” 

Din’s heart pounded painfully in his chest, and he groaned.  “What happened? Where am I? Who are you?  Are we enemies?  Where’s Marathel?” demanded Din of the man wearing an X-wing uniform. 

The X-wing pilot held up his hands, and said, “Okay … Let me take those one at a time.  You had … a cardiac-type … episode.  We gave you a series of hypos for that.  We didn’t expect you to react so quickly, though.”  The pilot took a breath.  “You’re on your ship.  When you didn’t answer our hails following your distress call, we tractored your ship on board the Luisitz.”  Din stared at the pilot.  The pilot continued, “Yeah, it’s a dumb name for a ship.”   

Din lowered his blaster, not because he felt safer, but because he couldn’t hold his arm up anymore.  He was also too weak to keep himself up on his elbow, so he lay back down on the floor.  The pilot visibly relaxed, and the man in blue — who was apparently a medic — held a scanner over Din’s chest.   

The pilot continued, “That there is Corpsman Ka’nab.”  The medic waved. Din nodded slightly in response.  “I’m Captain Carson Teva.” 

Din grunted.  “My name is …” 

“Din Djarin.  Guild Bounty Hunter, Mandalorian.  Yeah, we scanned you.  Got your chip.”  Teva pulled out his holopad.  “Going back to your original questions, I can safely say I sure as hell don’t want to be your enemy.  And as far as where is Marathel … I can’t say, because I don’t know who Marathel is.  Is Marathel your cat?” 

“My what?” 

“Your cat, or whatever pet you have on board.  Look, you said you were the only one on board, but we scanned your ship as we tractored it in…” — Din groaned inwardly — “… and there’s obviously a second, small, life-form aboard, but it’s in a shielded portion of the ship.”  Din remained silent.  “Hey, if I could have a pet in my X-wing, I would.   So what is it?” 

“A … pet, yes.” Sorry, kid.  “Not Marathel.  She’s …” 

“That her?” Teva pointed at the console, and Din looked up to see that his holopad was now projecting the image Cobb had sent.  Din nodded, and grunted in the affirmative.  “Pretty.  Heading out to see her, Djarin?” 

“Something like that.  Am I done, now?  May I go?” 

The medic said, “If you can sit up on your own, now, I’m done with you.” Din slowly pushed himself up and shifted so he could lean against the console.  He looked down at himself and saw that the medic had pulled off his pauldrons and cuirass, and had sliced his flight jacket and his underthermal open to get at his bare chest, which had several adhesive sensors stuck to it.  Din looked at the medic.  “Hey, I only know not to remove a Mandalorian’s helmet. That, I did not do.  You can take off those stickers yourself, and chuck them out.  Captain, I’ll send you my report.” 

“Was it a heart attack?” asked Din. 

The medic frowned.  “No … not as such.” 

“Not as such?” 

“Well, your blood pressure went to zero and your heart rate was spiking at 200.  But the scans showed no heart damage whatsoever.  Then you had some sort of seizure, like maybe you shot a clot through your heart into your brain, but nothing showed on neurological scans.  So the only idea I had was to hypo you with what I would use on someone who was having a heart attack and a neurological seizure.”  Din turned his head to look at Teva, who shrugged and continued tapping on his holopad.  Din returned his gaze to the medic.  “Hey, it worked.  And I removed that bacta bandage you were wearing, you obviously didn’t need it.” 

Din looked down at his chest again, looking for the bite mark … which was gone.  Not just healed, but gone, as if he’d never been bitten at all.  “What the …” Din looked up at the medic.  “What did you do?” 

The medic and Teva exchanged glances.  “I … removed a bandage.  If you had a wound under there, it’s obviously healed now.”  The medic tossed his equipment into his bag.  “I think I’m done here.  Safe travels, sir.  May the Force be with you.”  The medic left. 

“This is the way,” muttered Din as he looked again where the bite wound had been, looking for a pale scar, anything that would prove that Marathel had bitten him.  “It’s like … it never happened.” 

“Are you sure you were wounded, Djarin?” asked Teva, leaning in to look closer at Din’s chest. 

Din looked up at Teva, then hurriedly closed his thermal shirt and flight jacket over his bare skin.  The helmet was the most important part, but bare skin in general was still … difficult.  Even in a medical emergency.  “Would you believe that I had a human bite there?” 

Teva went back to his holopad and chuckled.  “This Marathel of yours gave you a what-for, did she?  Or was it … your pet?” 

“My … pet … is not human.” 

“Djarin …” 

“Mando is fine,” snapped Din. 

“… Mando, look, I don’t care.  I only care about weirdness on my patrol, and you brought me weirdness.  For the second time, I’m pretty sure.  You’re one long way from Nevarro.  And from Maldo Kreis.” 

“So are you, Captain.” 

Teva chuckled again.  “I said it first.” 

Din looked up at the holo of Marathel.  It occurred to him that he’d only seen her looking like this for seven days. Seven days.  He’d known her almost three times as long in her injured state.  It felt almost unfair. Which Marathel did I fall in love with?  Was it the Marathel with the clear skin and the bright eyes, who called him Bounty Hunter and baked him bread?  Or was it the Marathel who almost died in his arms and had nearly lost all her blood twice?   

Whichever Marathel it was, she had given him his first kiss with a woman.  And had broken his heart over and over and over.  And had gotten him the closest to not only removing his helmet, but to leaving his Creed altogether. 

Teva noticed Din staring at the holo.  “Tell me about her.” 

“It’s complicated.” 

Teva nodded.  “It always is.  Believe me, I  understand.” 

Din considered the Dahls and a lifetime of torture starting with being sired by a murderous pervert. He sighed and said, “No, Captain, I don’t think you do.”  He looked back at Teva, who was still tapping on his holopad.  “Aren’t you done, yet?” 

“Not even close.  I would have fewer reports to process if you’d died.  But then, I would have never known that lovely woman’s name,” he said, pointing at the holo.  “And I’d also have to be responsible for your … ‘cat’. 

Din went back to looking at Marathel’s holo.  “Captain, let me ask you something. Say … say someone found a planet where women and girls … little girls … have been generationally tortured in the most reprehensible ways.  Just how many need to suffer, or die, before the New Republic does something?” 

“Is it a Republic or Empire-era planet?” 

“Dank ferrik,” grunted Din.  “Are you taking the piss?” 

“I wish I were, Mando.  So which is it?” 

“It’s neither.  The settlement is the only site of civilization on the entire planet.  Everywhere else is … inhabited only by animals. But there might be artifacts from other planets within this settlement.  And let’s say that one of those artifacts was … Old Republic.” 

Teva frowned at Din.  “Where is this planet?” 

“I’m only speaking hypothetically, Captain.” 

“How many hypothetical generations are we talking about?” 

“Possibly two thousand Basic years.” 

“Kriff.”  Teva pinched the bridge of his nose.  “Little girls.  How young?” 

Din swallowed.  “Her first memories.” 

Teva’s eyes flicked up to Marathel’s holo, then he harrumphed.  “Have you ever heard that there’s always three ways to do things in the military?  There’s the official way, the right way, and then there’s the way that us grunts take care of things.”  He did some final taps on his holopad, then stood up.  “It sounds like you know about the official answer to your query.” 

“Primitive culture … blah blah blah.” 

“Blah blah blah, indeed.  Now, the way that a grunt — like myself — would take care of this … l would search for any artifacts on this hypothetical planet that give a clue where these hypothetical people might have come from, originally.  That might be enough for some … hearsay … to get in the right ear, for the right thing to happen.”  Teva sighed, and shook his head before he held out his hand to help Din up from the floor.  “My report is good enough for government work.  Let me see what I can do to speed up your release.” 

Din nodded. “Thank you, Captain.” 

“You’re welcome, Mando.  May the Force be with you.” Teva stepped on the ladder out of the cockpit.  “Don’t forget to get your pet out of the hold.  And, uh … keep me updated on this hypothetical planet of yours.” 

Shortly after that, the Razor Crest launched and exited the landing tunnel of the Luisitz, Din thinking to himself that it was indeed a ridiculous name for a ship.  He set the coordinates back to Unmanarall, and throttled into hyperspace. 

Once they were set on their way, Din dropped out of the cockpit and pulled the access panel open.  “Kid?  You can come out now.”  He heard Grogu chattering, and then the boy jumped out of the access panel and into Din’s arms, bawling.  Din was still unsteady after experiencing whatever it was that had happened to him, and he sat down hard on the floor, hugging Grogu.  “It’s okay, kid.  I’m okay.  Everything’s okay.  We’re going to get Mama back.  We’re on our way to Mama.” 

“Mamaaaaaaa…” wailed the tearful Grogu, and Din would have rather cut off his arm than to see Grogu cry.  “Bah daws! Bah daws!” 

“Bad Dahls, you got that right, buddy.  We’re gonna show those bad Dahls a thing or two.” 

Grogu stared at Din with his tearful eyes, runny nose, and trembling lip.  After a couple of hitches, the child quietly asked, “Patu … Mama?” 

Din sighed, and found a cloth to wipe Grogu’s nose.  “Blow,” said Din, and Grogu complied. “Ad’ika … I wish I knew what to tell you about Patu Mama.  The first thing to do is to go back and find Mama. We’re on our way back now.  We don’t know what we’re going to find when we go back, so we need to be ready for anything.  It’s time to be Mandalorians. This is the way.”  Grogu made a bleat in the affirmative, but still looked incredibly sad. 

With the time skips his mind had taken, Din figured they had a day or so to get back to Unmanarall.  He stripped off his sliced jacket and thermal shirt and inspected the damage.  He had some needle skills, but he didn’t think even Marathel could fix this. Din noticed that this jacket was one that Marathel had embroidered the Mudhorn signet, so he ripped off the embroidered pocket and deposited it into the bin with his other keepsakes.  Getting full in there, he thought.  He rolled up the cut shirt and jacket and shoved them down the back of his clothing bin, still loath to toss out something Marathel had held in her hands, despite his confusion regarding his feelings for her.  He grabbed a clean thermal shirt and gathered it in his hands to pull over his head when his eye caught the yarn bracelet he’d bought. He’d originally intended to give it to Marathel.  Now, he decided he’d wear it until it fell off, or until he and Marathel figured out just what the shab there was between them … if anything. 

One thing at a time.  For now. 

Din redressed and collected all his armor.  He cleaned and polished every surface and every crevasse of every piece of armor, saying each Mando’a incantation out loud. He did this not only for his own benefit, but also for Grogu’s, for it was high time the boy started learning these things.  Din used one of the new felted wool cloths Marathel had made, and perhaps he was biased, but he thought the handmade cloth was far superior to anything he could have purchased for the task. 

That chore completed, Din then moved on to his weapons.  He’d been far too distracted recently, and he hadn’t been maintaining his weapons cache as he should have.  Ni ceta, Manda’lor.  He dismantled each weapon in his armory, cleaning, polishing, and calibrating each part to working perfection.  He even tinkered a bit with his antique bolt blaster and vibro-blade, both inherited from his buir.  Both weapons had been handed down in buir’s family for several generations.   

When Din was a boy and still relatively new under buir’s care, buir had taken him out to the canyon the covert used as a shooting range, and let him fire the old bolt blaster.  It was the first time Din had handled a weapon, and the recoil landed him right on his ass. Once buir stopped laughing, he began weapons training with Din.  Buir had been the most patient of teachers, and it was his calm and positive reinforcement that Din always tried to emulate as he passed on the Mandalorian traditions to Grogu.   

By the time the chores were completed, there were only a few hours to go until the Crest reached Unmanarall.  Din made bone broth for both himself and Grogu, and they split a ration bar.  Din decided that they both could use a nap, to be fresh for whatever awaited them when they returned to Marathel’s planet. Din put his feet up on the console, and Grogu curled up against him, murmuring Mama before he dozed off.   

Din projected Marathel’s image again —the one that Cobb sent — and he stared at it for a while.  Din worked out what she had been doing at the time this image was captured.  Marathel was making bread at the palace while all the others watched and did their best to convince her to not return to Unmanarall.  He was the only one not there.  She had revealed to him her sad life, and he had rejected her because of it.  But he’d always known, deep in his heart, the depth of her lifelong suffering, who her father was, but he wouldn’t admit it to himself.  He’d been such an unmitigated asshole to her.  All she’d wanted was kindness.  He’d granted her some kindness, but not enough.  Only enough to suit him.  Only enough so that he could remain comfortably within his Creed. 

Din absently put his hand over the bite mark — scratch that — where the bite mark used to be.  Okay, why did the bite mark burn like I’d been dipped in lava, sending me into a ‘cardiac episode’ … and then disappear? 

The bite mark burned on the second night of the Dahl’s mating, and then in the Hold, when Marathel told him to be still.  Actually, any time she told him to be still. Din had believed that she controlled him through the bite mark, which … might be only partially true.  She had told him to be still in order to make him remove his weapons, so that she could sacrifice herself.  To make him take her back, and to leave her behind, in essence, to sacrifice herself again.  And she made him be still to prove to him she was nothing more than a … body to be used for his pleasure. 

The other times the bite had burned, he’d attacked her, brutalized her, frightened her, both awake and in his dreams.  But in all those times, she never told him to be still … instead, she begged him to let her go. 

But if she controlled me, why would she beg me to let her go? She could have just told me to do that!  And once I’d taken her back, then why would the bite still burn?  Why did I forget her?  And why don’t I … love her anymore, for kriff’s sake! 

Did I have a not-a-heart-attack and lose a scar because … Marathel is now …? 

Din flat-out refused to complete that thought.  He refused to believe it even if he did.  So, instead, he decided to follow his buir’s advice:  take a nap; things will be clearer when you wake up.  It wasn’t until he was an adult that he realized what buir was actually saying: kid, shut the fuck up for a while; I need to rest my eyes.  Din gently patted Grogu’s back and watched the little green boy sleep until Din dozed off himself. 

Din woke up to the hyperspace alarm going off.  We’re here.  We’re back, Marathel.  You told me to leave you here and not come back, but I’m not one for following orders. And I’m thinking about ignoring your request to not take revenge on that Hold.  Especially if you broke the promise you made to me and leapt off that cliff after all.   

Din dropped the Crest out of hyperspace above the planet, and his thoughts about the best way to reduce the Hold to rubble were suddenly stopped.  He had entered orbit just above the Hold coordinates, and the atmosphere above that point was a cloud of grey smoke.  The shab?  Din looked down at Grogu, who looked back up at him, asking, “Mama?” 

“Looks like Mama’s been busy, kid. Hold on.” 

Din circled the Crest into the atmosphere and landed where he had the first time he’d been here. It was pointless to prevent Grogu from going with him; the boy was in his floating pram and waiting by the ramp door before Din could get out of his chair.  As they made their way to the Hold gate, Din could smell something distinctly chemical in the air.  He associated it with hot springs and geysers, which confused him as he did not recall this odor here before.  They came out of the woods to see the large wooden gate leaning against the stone pilaster, and part of the stone wall collapsed.  But these sights didn’t confuse Din as much as what he didn’t see, and that was the Round Building. 

As Din stepped through the gateway, he could now see the where the Round Building had been was now a smoldering ring of rubble, blown from the center out.  Dank ferrik; Marathel didn’t mess around.  As he came forward, he heard a couple of shrieks and noticed some women scattering at the sight of him.  One came forward, braver than the others.  The blonde woman wore a light green gown that was torn and dirty … a Duke, thought Din.  “You ... You came back.”  She held what looked like a fireplace poker in front of her.  “Stay back, metal man.  You brought her back; are you here to finish us off?” 

“I wish you no harm, madam, I am only looking for Marathel.” 

To Din’s surprise, another nearby woman, this one with the curly black hair of a Captain, spat on the ground.  “The Belwhyn bitch wrought this destruction.  She and her demon creatures have killed us all.”  This woman wandered off, wringing her hands and muttering. 

Din returned his attention to the woman in green, asking, “Did she mean the Dahls?” 

The blonde woman nodded, and lowered her poker.  “They came in after her … we knew she’d gone into the Round Building, looking to kill the Elders.  The building began to burn.  The men were running out.  But she’d left the gate open, and all the Dahls ran in, running straight to the men trying to escape the fire, and killed them all.  Men were going back inside, preferring to burn than to face the wrath of the Dahls.  The Dahls ripped them limb from limb.  Then ... they went after the children ...”  The young woman sobbed.  “The children.  The babies.  Gone.  The children ran to us for protection.  The Dahls snatched them from us, and killed them too.”  The woman continued to cry. 

“All the children?” 

“Just the boys.” 

Din looked at the destruction around him.  Bodies — parts of bodies — were still everywhere.  Women wept, holding the corpses of infants.  One, he saw, no longer had a head; but the woman cooed to it as if it were still living.  Two other women were gathering remains of men to put into another pyre.  A little girl, hardly larger than Grogu, helped the two women, carrying smaller human parts: a hand, something that looked like a child’s leg.  Other females merely sat on the ground, rocking, their faces blank slates of horror.  Grogu whimpered in his pram.   

“So it’s true.” 

Din startled; he had been focusing on the destruction around him.  “I beg your pardon?” 

The blonde woman pointed at Grogu.  “Olba said you had a child with you.  She only saw it from a distance.  She said it was sweet.  And green.  And Marathel loved it.”  She sniffled.  “My boys are dead.” 

Din reached out to the woman in green and she recoiled from his hand, brandishing the poker again. “Please, good lady, can you tell me what happened to the Round Building?” 

The woman spread her arms wide.  “Big boom.” 

“Why did that happen?” 

“Marathel.”  The woman looked at his visor again.  “You’re the one that brought her to the Hold.  You took her away, and the marchwyl.  I was whipped, because I wouldn’t tell them it was Hylma who stole the marchwyl, even though I was glad it was gone.  But the others ...” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “Others told.  Then the Elders killed Olba and Hylma and Tymfy and Lorica.   They’d brought her out, they’d taken the marchwyl, and she still had the Dilimgau.  The Elders do not suffer thievery,  but… I’m glad the Dilimgau is also gone.” 

Din wasn’t sure whether this woman was going to remain relatively calm or not.  So far, she’d been very helpful, but she was also using the same flat, unemotional tone of voice that Marathel used when she catalogued the terrible things the men did to her.  This woman seemed to be unafraid of him as well as Grogu, and she didn’t seem to want to use that poker on him, and he wanted to keep it that way.  “Marathel is not here now?” 

The woman scrubbed her nose with the back of her hand.  “She left and took the Dahls with her.”  Din was relieved to hear that at least Marathel left here under her own steam.  Then Grogu quietly whimpered Mama, which startled the woman.  “That thing can speak?  It can say mama?”   She dropped the poker and sat down on the ground, weeping.  “I’m not a mama anymore.” 

Din knelt in front of her, not wanting to get closer.  “I am so sorry.”  He let her cry for a few moments before he asked, “Madam, may I look through the debris?” 

The woman looked at him in confusion, as if she’d never been spoken to with deference before, which was most likely the case.  “Why?” 

“I want to help you.  I can tell people to come and help you.” 

The woman frowned at him.  “Come from where?” 

Din pointed skyward.  “From up there.  You saw my flying metal box?  There are others out there, many others, and I think your people came from somewhere else, long ago.  I need to find some evidence of where your people might have come from.”   

The blonde woman looked around her in despair.  “We are beyond help.  We are all dead.  No more men means no more babies.  Some women have killed themselves already.”  She began weeping once more, and dropped her poker on the ground. 

Din muttered apologies again, but moved away from the blonde woman as quickly as he could towards the wreckage of the Round Building.  Grogu stuck close and remained quiet, seemingly affected by everything around him.  Din leaned over and touched his head to Grogu’s.  “I know, kid.  Some very bad things happened here.  But no one will hurt you.  I promise.”  Grogu looked dubious.   

Din peered down into the hole left by the apparent explosion.  The chemical smell here was much stronger, and burned Din’s nose.  Grogu began coughing, so Din closed the pram lid, and sealed his helmet.  The smell was familiar, somehow, but he couldn’t quite place it.  He carefully stepped down into the crater, sliding down what must have been a large door.  There seemed to be a lot more metallic debris in the crater than he anticipated.  He’d figured this building had been constructed of stone and wood, which it was, but it appeared that there was a large metal component. 

The blast had obviously disintegrated the stone, and the wood had burned away, but the interior layer of the Round Building had been sheet metal that broke apart in panels, curling against the intense heat that had occurred from the fire. He moved towards the center of the crater, balancing carefully on the rubble.  He turned in a circle, finally realizing that this building was not engineered in a circle, but was built around a metal cylinder. Din pulled out his holopad and began taking stills.   

There is no way these people made a metal cylinder this large.  They don’t have the means to make sheet metal like this. 

Din moved towards a section that was still fairly intact and attached to other pieces.  Riveted together.  

It’s a ship.  This was a ship. 

Din nearly pumped his fist in the air.  He had been right, after all.  He got closer to what was undoubtedly part of a fuselage when some markings caught his eye.  Bending down, he wiped some soot off the wall and saw what was unmistakably Aurebesh lettering.  He could only make out a couple of letters, however. 

Din then looked down to his feet, and he could see a sublevel below him.  He picked his way to an area he could access, and dropped down.  The flat surface he landed on shifted under his feet, and the section began to fall further into the hole, so he fired his jetpack so he would not fall with it.  As he lifted into the air, he noticed some of the women shrieking and running again at the sight of him flying.  Din sighed, remembering how jumpy Marathel had been when she first saw him and Grogu.  He took a few holo stills from this vantage point, as it showed the fuselage/building well.  A panel had fallen inward, and from here he could now see lettering on it, in both Aurebesh and an old script he did not recognize, but the inscription was obviously the name board of this ship: 

DRESO LLONG’WYR  SYSTEM LEW’EL 

Lew’el.  They came from the Lew’el system!  There was also a string of numbers, and Din was unsure if it was the old style dating system, or the ship’s registration, but in any case, it was old.   

Din then noticed several round objects behind the building, near the uprooted tree, the tree Marathel had nearly fallen out of.  He touched back down to the ground, picking up one of the round objects, recognizing it immediately as a lid for a chemical storage barrel.  There were quite a few of them on this side of the wreckage, making Din think that the blast was more directional than just up.  As he dropped the lid, he noticed that his glove was coated with a blue-grey dust.  What the … Mist?  He looked over the area around him, and realized that this whole side of the building was covered with Mist dust.  Why in Frith were they … 

“Are you a machine?” 

Din had not been expecting to hear a voice, and he whirled around to see a small girl standing behind him.  She was a sweet-looking child, with long brown hair that was seriously in need of a good brushing.  She also had large, dark brown eyes and a face full of dirt.  Her dark green tunic and skirt were stained and torn,  and her bare feet were utterly filthy. If he’d been running around this dirty at her age, his mother would have had a conniption and hosed him off in the front garden.  His buir, meanwhile, would have simply drop-kicked him into the river.  “No, child, I am a person.” 

“Why are you made of metal?” 

Remembering that Marathel didn’t understand the concept of religion, he said, “My people wear armor and a helmet.  Those are the rules my people live by.” 

Seemingly satisfied with this explanation, the little girl said, “Belwhyn Marathel did all this.”  Din nodded.  “The Elders made her a Belwhyn because she fucked you, and she was only supposed to be fucked by the Bishop.”  Din could not reply, as he was stunned by these words coming from this little girl.  She didn’t seem to mind, as she went on without prompting.  “I was there when they made her a Belwhyn.  She screamed as they all fucked her.  The Captain kicked the Dilimgau into her cunt.” 

“… What?” 

“She came back and killed them all.  The Bishop is over there,” the little girl said, pointing.  “I was supposed to be the Hunter’s Whyn,  but he’s dead now.  I was branded and everything.  See?”  The child lifted up her skirt to show Din, and she was naked under her skirt. He turned away as she exposed herself to him. 

“Lower your skirt, child,” Din muttered. 

“But I don’t have an Elder anymore.  Are you going to be my Elder?” 

“No.” 

The girl dropped her skirt and began to cry.  “But … I’m supposed to suck your cock now, aren’t I?” 

Din backed up from her.  “No.  No!  Go back to the women, child.  Just … get away from me.”  The girl ran away, crying at being rejected by him, leaving Din feeling both repulsed and saddened.  Mostly repulsed.  It made him think of Marathel’s brand, made him think of her as a child just like the little Hunter girl.  No wonder Marathel was so damaged in her mind. And hearing that the Captain had … His hands curled into fists, and he wished the Captain was still alive so he could kill him.  Din considered burning down the rest of the Hold and killing the remaining survivors as a mercy to them.  He took a deep, shuddering breath, knowing that he could not do that.  Perhaps these women could be rehabilitated ... Perhaps their minds could be repaired ... 

Perhaps I could just give up my Creed and join a traveling underwater circus! 

Din lined up several barrel lids and took holos.  He believed he had enough.  Now he needed to find Marathel.  He walked around the fallen tree and back out to where the women still milled around.  He didn’t see the little girl, and he was thankful for that.  Din approached Grogu’s pram, still closed, and he gently maneuvered it away from the fallen Round Building.  “Kid?  Are you okay in there?”  He heard some shuffling inside.  “Knock once for yes and twice for no.  Are you doing okay in there?”  There was a light, single tap from within.  “Okay, buddy, just stay in there a little longer, alright?”  Another tap.   

Din looked over the yard again.  Nearby was a dead body that was oddly enough, still intact.  He went over and looked down at the corpse of the Bishop.  His eyes were gone, and his mouth was open and full of blood.  There were multiple stab wounds all over his body, a couple right in his crotch.  Too good for you, you son of a bitch.  Rapist.  Child rapist.  You carved a gash down a beautiful woman’s face.  You destroyed her before she was even born.  You broke her mind so much she dreamed I was you! And I wish you could come back to life so I could kill you myself, you … “MOTHERFUCKER HU’TUUN!” growled Din as he drew both blasters and alternated firing shots into the corpse, over and over.  Din holstered his blasters, reared back, and kicked the corpse in the groin.  He then raised his helmet enough to spit in the corpse’s eye socket before stepping back and setting it on fire with his flame thrower.   

Finished now, Din turned, placed his hand on Grogu’s pram, and walked them both out of the Hold gate, not looking back at the women and girls who stood staring at him.  “C’mon, kid, let’s go find your Mama.” 

Din decided to return to Marathel’s hut on the Crest.  On a normal hunt, he’d leave his ship where it was and walk.  He liked having the time to settle his thoughts, make a plan, and creep up on his mark quietly.  Right now, however, he felt the need to hurry.  Although Marathel walked out of the Hold, he wasn’t sure how long ago she did that, which direction she was going, or what state she was in when she left.  The rest of the women were still shell-shocked by the explosion and the Dahl’s attack, but they didn’t go on a rampage like Marathel had, fighting off and killing however many men. 

Din and Grogu went back to the Crest, lifted off, and touched back down in the grassy field just outside Marathel’s yard.  From here he could not see anything too out of the ordinary, but as he and Grogu approached, he could see that the brown panels Marathel had hung were no longer there.  Then he saw her bag lying on the ground where she’d dropped it.  Hoping she may be still in the hut, Din hurried forward but stopped short at the four rounded piles of flowers.   

Four.  The four women who brought her out.   

“Stay here, Grogu,” muttered Din.  He went up to the steps.  There was a burned-out torch — Marathel must have intended to burn the hut down — a whetstone, and bloodied footprints.  He looked up to the ridge pole to see the four ropes the women had been hanged from.  He did not wish to unwrap the women to see what they had suffered. More of Marathel’s footprints went through the large blood spill under the four shroud-wrapped bodies.  Din could smell the decay of flesh, and flies buzzed everywhere. 

Olba, Tymfy, Lorica, Hylma.  I am so sorry.  Ni ceta.  Thank you for being good women to Marathel.  Thank you, Olba, for mothering Marathel the best you could.   

Din took a step back and chanted the Mando’a prayer for the dead, something he hadn’t spoken since the death of his buir.  He believed these women were fully deserving of this honor, and that Manda’lor would accept their souls for their sacrifice.  This completed, Din stepped up into the hut.  He decided that there were certain items that he needed to collect before he left this place.  He rummaged around until he found what he wanted as well as a bag to carry the items in. 

Din stood in the center of the hut and looked around one last time, feeling as if he were seeing ghosts of lifetimes past: Marathel cooking at the fire, Marathel playing with Grogu, Marathel in his arms.  He took one last look at the post near the corner.  Her leaning post.  He closed his eyes, took a breath, and walked down the steps to the yard.  Once there, he turned, aimed his flame thrower, and set the hut ablaze. 

Din stood for a few minutes, watching the hut burn.  The roof thatching went up like a rocket, and soon it collapsed, leaving just a burning shell of posts.  Now, he was finished here.  As he and Grogu returned to the Crest, Din snagged Marathel’s bag, hoping that she would need it back.   

Din flew the Crest low, searching for life signs on the scanner and wondering where she would go.  How far could she get?  Din assumed she was injured in some way; Marathel was not a trained warrior and had probably been running on adrenaline.  He felt fairly sure that she was heading for the cliff, but he had no idea where this particular cliff was.  It was within running distance from her hut, he knew that.  Grogu stood on the console, peering through the view screen as Din followed the coastline, searching for this cliff of hers.   

The scanner began beeping.  Din looked at the monitor to see a large convergence of life signs coming up ahead of them.  As they got closer, the sensor picked up one single additional weak life sign.  Din steered the Crest in from the high ledge, fifty or so meters above the crashing waves.  The ledge was a mostly a grassy field with the foliage growing right up to the edge of the cliff.  There was a large, flat boulder some ways away from the edge.  Din was thinking he could see a couple of small objects on the boulder, when Grogu suddenly shouted “Mama!” 

Din immediately brought down the Crest, and was out of his chair before the ship had fully settled, and practically leapt through the ramp door.  He ran to the boulder, where he saw a cracked wooden cup, the remains of a spear, and a bloody handprint.  Din immediately panicked, thinking, damn you, Marathel, you promised me you wouldn’t kill yourself! You promised me that you would live out the rest of your days on this fucking rock! I promised I wouldn’t take any revenge, and I promised that I would leave you behind.  Well, I broke both of those promises and you’ve broken yours.  We are just a fucking pair, aren’t we? 

Din flicked the heat sensor on his helmet, and detected a life sign a few meters away.  He ran over as fast as he could, sliding to a stop next to the crumpled form of Marathel.  She lay in a heap, not far from the dead body of Rodanthe.   Marathel’s arms were twisted beneath her as she half-curled into a fetal position.   Under her hips was a pool of thick, half-dried blood.  No, not again, thought Din as he leaned over her, touching her exposed and sunburned cheek with his gloved finger.  Her eyelids flickered, and Din whispered, “Oh, ma’mwsh ha’laa.”  He couldn’t tell where she was injured or where the blood pool had come from, but she wasn’t dead, oh, thank you, thank you, she’s not dead. 

Din carefully turned her over, realizing that her collarbone was broken and her shoulder was dislocated. She had a gash on the side of her head, with maggots in the wound. She was terribly sunburned where her skin was exposed. How long had she been out here?  But before he could fully assess any of her injuries, he heard Grogu cry out, “Patu!  Bah Daws!” 

Din straightened up, seeing Grogu standing on the flat boulder, pointing at the tree line at the edge of the grassy field.  He looked at the tree line, and the heat sensor on his helmet showed many signatures, many living creatures, and they were coming straight for him.  Din ran forward, brandishing his blaster as hundreds of Dahls charged.  He skidded to a halt, firing at several Dahls, killing them, causing the creatures to trip over each other, but still they came.  Din holstered his blaster and fired his flame thrower, but he’d been fire-happy recently and he could only swing the flame once along the front line of the Dahls before he ran out of fuel.  It did, however, bring them to a stop, and they stood their ground, chattering their keh-keh noises at him, clawing at the dirt. 

Din screamed at the Dahls, “Get away from her, you fuckers! You leave her alone! You’ve taken her entire life away! Get out of her head, get out of my head, and leave us both alone!”  He grabbed both blasters,  shot several more times at the feet of the closest ones, and the pack began to move backwards.  “That’s right, you back the fuck up and LET HER GO!” 

Unfortunately, this infuriated the Dahls, and they charged forward at Din once more.  He lifted his blasters again, intending to strafe the front line for as long as his blasters held out, when the Dahls simply stopped, as if they were crashing into an invisible barrier.  Yelping in pain, the Dahls clawed at the air, at each other, confused.  Din was just as confused as the Dahls, and he looked back over his shoulder to see Grogu holding out his little hands, holding back the Dahls with the Force.  Din returned his attention to the Dahls, who were backing up once more, now fearful of the metal man and the little green creature. 

“Go away from here!  Get out of her head and leave her alone. You’ve had her for thirty years!  You’re done with her now. She doesn’t want you anymore. You let her SUFFER!  You NEVER loved her!  NOW LET US GO!” 

Snapping, hissing, the Dahls continued their retreat as Grogu released the Force barrier and sat down in exhaustion.  Din kept his stance, brandishing both blasters, firing a warning shot at the feet of any Dahls that attempted a forward move.  Eventually, the Dahls disappeared back into the tree line, but Din held his ground until the creatures were out of range of his visor’s sensors. 

Din slowly backed up himself, scanning the tree line for any sudden movement, until he was back within range of Marathel.  Holstering his blasters, he turned to Grogu, sitting on the boulder.  “You okay, kid?”  Grogu bleated weakly.  “You did good, buddy, I’m proud of you.”  Din went to one knee beside Rodanthe, hoping that at least this one last Dahl had been true to Marathel.  He stroked the animal’s head, wondering if his cardiac episode had occurred at the time of her death.  If so, then what was the reason for him to lose his love for Marathel? 

Not having any answers, Din decided that the best course of action was to care for the still-living woman.  He carefully lifted Marathel from the ground and carried her to the boulder where Grogu sat.  “Hey kid, grab that cup and spear, would you?” asked Din, figuring that if Marathel meant them as a suicide note, they were important to her.  Grogu did as his Patu asked, and looked up wearily at Din.  Din nodded his head at the ship and said, “Going my way, pal?  Hop on.  Mama won’t mind, I don’t think.” 

Grogu leapt into Marathel’s lap, whimpering Mama, curling against her.  Din carried them both into the Razor Crest, closing the ramp behind him.  The Dahls moved forward again to the tree line, and watched as the small ship lifted off the ground, and winked away into the sky, leaving Unmanarall for what Din hoped was the final time. 

Day Twenty-Nine point Five ->

[jokeringcutio]

Hello <3 I've been following you for many years and I'm a big fan <33 I'm from Spain, sorry if my English is a little wrong :( On Halloween eve I come to ask you (if it's still open 😨) for a one shot of the grabber x reader, where reader goes trick or treating around the houses :)Thank you very much, I understand if you accept it or you don't have time, I wish you a very nice day <3

Hello, dear anon from Spain. (: Thank you for the request! Here's a little drabble for you, enjoy! ♡

Fandom: The Black Phone 2022 Pairing: Albert Shaw (The Grabber) x Reader (Au Pair from abroad) Rating: Teen Warnings: Au Pair Reader is from Abroad, Mention of Age Gap, Dark Undertones. Overall quite sweet.

Summary: You are an Au Pair stopping at the Grabber’s House. Romantic (with perhaps the tiniest hint of darkness underneath).

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Trick or Treat – Sweet Grabber x Reader version, Drabble

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The chilly autumn air nipped at your cheeks as you walked down the dimly lit street, the excited laughter of Johnny and Louisa ringing in your ears. You were their au pair, a stranger in this foreign land, but tonight, you felt like a part of something magical. Halloween.

"Trick or treat!" the children chorused as you approached a house adorned with cobwebs and flickering jack-o-lanterns. Standing on the porch was a man wearing a pale devil's mask, his eerie grin somehow welcoming.

"Ah, excellent costumes!" Albert Shaw admired, his voice low and rich like dark chocolate. "A heroic knight and a beautiful fairy princess – truly splendid!"

"Thank you!" Louisa beamed, her small wings fluttering with excitement.

"Here you go," he said, dropping handfuls of candy into their waiting bags. The sugary treats clinked together, their sweet promise almost tangible.

"Thank you, mister!" Johnny grinned, his eyes shining with delight beneath his toy helmet.

You stood back, watching the exchange with a mixture of curiosity and wonder. Halloween was a night of secrets and mystery, and the man in the devil's mask seemed to embody that spirit. There was an undeniable allure about him, despite the sinister disguise he wore.

His eyes, hidden behind the mask, shifted to you as he held out a handful of candy. "And for our lovely au pair..." His voice was like velvet, wrapping around you and pulling you in. You felt your cheeks flush, intrigued by the mystery this man exuded.

"Thank you," you murmured, accepting the candy and feeling a shiver run down your spine at his gaze – intense and penetrating despite the disguise. The shadows cast by the jack-o-lanterns danced on his face, casting him in an otherworldly light that only heightened the allure.

"Allow me," he said, reaching up to remove the devil's mask. As it came away, you found yourself staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes set in a rugged, handsome face. A hint of silver threaded through his chestnut-brown hair, which he casually raked back with one hand. He appeared older, perhaps too old for you, but somehow, that only added to his charm.

"Albert Shaw," he introduced himself, extending a hand to you. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," you replied softly, placing your hand in his. The warmth of his grip sent another shiver down your spine, making you wonder what it would be like to have those hands elsewhere on your body.

“How did you know I am their au pair and not their mother?” you asked, curiously. As you spoke, the air around you seemed charged, electric. The night took on a dangerous edge, something haunting lurking just beneath the surface. You couldn't help but feel drawn to him, the darkness and the unknown beckoning you closer.

“You’re too young to be their mother,” Albert pointed out to you. “Plus, you are the most exotic Flamenco dancer I have seen tonight. The dress fits you like a glove.”

Something in his eyes glittered, and you felt your cheeks flush at the compliment he gave you. “They picked it out for me,” you said, gesturing at Johnny and Louisa. What else could you say? You felt a little embarrassed, really. Especially with the way Albert’s eyes seemed to rove over your frame as if he was looking at more than just the costume. Then his eyes suddenly darted up again and the faintest hint of a smile appeared in the corner of his lips.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" Albert remarked, his voice low and seductive.

"Y-yes," you stammered, trying to maintain your composure as your mind raced with thoughts of desire and intrigue. "It's... enchanting."

"Indeed," he agreed, his eyes never leaving yours. "Halloween has a way of bringing out the hidden desires within all of us. The masks we wear, the secrets we keep… It's a night when anything seems possible."

"Even the forbidden?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. But despite the loud noises of the kids roaming the streets, he seemed to have heard you.

"Especially the forbidden," he confirmed, his gaze darkening with lust. "There's something thrilling about exploring the unknown, don't you think?"

You nodded, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The air between you crackled with intensity, and for a moment, you were lost in the spell he had woven around you. Halloween had become more than just a night of costumes and candy. It was a gateway into a world of dark romance and dangerous temptations, embodied by the enigmatic man before you.

And oh! How you longed to explore whatever darkness that man had to offer you.

A loud bark broke you out of your trance. A dog came bounding up behind the man and you heard the kids gasp. Johnny, especially, loved dogs.

“Ah, this is Samson,” Albert said as he sunk to his knees to pet the rather large dog that had appeared beside him. You felt Lousia hide behind your legs. She wasn’t as fond of dogs as her brother was. But Albert was running his hands over Samson’s neck, scratching the dog who seemed to enjoy the attention.

“Don’t worry,” Albert soothingly said, his attention fully on Louisa now. “He won’t bite.”

As if that was a cue, Johnny took a step forward and raised his hand, wanting to pet the dog. You tusked him, but Albert interfered.

“It’s fine,” he said, blue eyes on you. “Samson is a sweetheart,” and your heart nearly skipped a beat when you saw his warm gaze upon you and heard the low timbre of his voice. Sweetheart. Had he said it like that on purpose? But before you could think too much about it, his eyes were back on Johnny and he helped the boy to the dog. “You may pet him,” he said. “He likes it.”

Albert helped Johnny run his hand past Samson and you watched how the dog seemed to relax. Behind you Lousia tucked at your skirt, still scared.

"Let's go get more candy!" she said, pulling you along with her. You had to try and keep your balance and avoid tripping over your skirt, but Louisa was quite determined. And upon hearing and seeing his sister drag you away, Johnny seemed to forget Samson and came rushing towards you. He grabbed your sleeve and started to pull along.

“More candy, yay!” he shouted. And you looked over your shoulder at Albert with a look of defeat. How you longed to have talked to him a little longer.

As if he thought the same, he stood up and straightened his spine, reaching up as far as he could to call after you. "Wait," his voice soft yet commanding. "Come back after the children are in bed."

Come back? Your eyes widened at the dishonorable suggestion. You and the much older man, alone, in a house, late in the evening? Louisa and Johnny’s mom and dad would kill you if they found out. But perhaps… perhaps you could trick them. Tell them you went for a drink with Sophia, the other au pair you had recently met, and got along with fine. They would buy that excuse.

"All right," you agreed, feeling a shiver of anticipation race down your spine. You couldn't shake the sense that something extraordinary was waiting for you behind those doors.

Later that evening, still wearing your costume and tired with sore feet, you approached Albert's house once more. Your heart pounded in your chest as you rang the doorbell, an inexplicable blend of fear and desire coursing through you.

Albert opened the door without his mask, his blue eyes piercing through the darkness. "You came back," he said, his tone layered with intrigue and hunger.

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound braver than you felt. "I couldn't resist."

"I am glad you came," he said, a smile curling his lips in a pleasant, warm way that sent tingles down your tummy. He was older, perhaps too old for you, but that only seemed to make him more alluring. The lines on his face spoke of experience and wisdom, and you found yourself yearning to feel the touch of his hands.

“I seem to have lots of leftover candy this year,” he lamented. But there was a certain tune to his voice that betrayed it wasn’t as much a complaint as it was meant as a conversational starter. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest. A teasing glint in his eyes betrayed how happy he was that you had returned for him. Seeing that brought another gust of warmth to your core.

"Your costume is quite… alluring," he remarked, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised appreciation.

"Thank you," you replied, heat rising to your cheeks. "Yours was very mysterious."

"Ah, yes," he said, smirking. "The devil himself."

"Maybe you're not so different from him," you teased, feeling bolder by the moment.

"Perhaps not," he agreed, his eyes darkening with desire. "But I can assure you, I'm far more interesting."

The intensity of his gaze sent shivers down your spine, and you found yourself wanting nothing more than to be enveloped in his embrace. To feel the strength of his arms around you, the heat of his body pressed against yours.

"Can I offer you something to drink?" he asked, gesturing at the space behind him, effectively inviting you into his house.

Is this smart? a tiny voice inside of your mind screamed at you. But you were too excited and too intrigued to listen to that voice of reason. You knew you wanted to head inside, and not just because of the cold that started to envelop you while you stood on his porch.

“You can help me get rid of some of that leftover candy,” he suggestively added, his voice low and seductive. His blue eyes were fixed upon you, his intentions clear.

"Yes, I'd love some," you replied, knowing full well the candy was just an excuse to stay near him. You wanted to know more about this man, felt like he was a magnet pulling you in.

Albert smiled broader upon your answer and unfolded his arms. "Come with me," he said.

As he reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, a shiver of anticipation raced down your spine. Finally, you were experiencing the touch you had longed for all evening. The sensation was electrifying, sending waves of heat coursing through your veins.

As you followed him, the door closed behind you, shutting out the world and leaving you alone in this mysterious man's domain.

~ Fin ~

If you enjoyed:

~~ Masterlist - Request Box  ♡ Support me on Ko-Fi ♡ In the days running up to Halloween, I will be posting Halloween-themed Reader-inserts. Some will be smutty, some will be dark, others will be sugary sweet. Follow me to read more. Love you all

[crepes-suzette-373]

Garuda, Judge, Germa 66, The Divine

@sangerie Perfect timing that you bring up Garuda in your reply, because I remembered a while ago that I didn't check what Judge's current belt looks like when I made that other post and I was just about to make a new post about my findings.

---

I messed up and completely forgot to check when I made that other post. That was just more of an idle thought, though, not something I really wanted to analyse or make theories out of. This one is the (conspiracy) theory/analysis post.

Artistically this is big enough difference that I cannot chalk it off as "simplification/wonky artwork because of image size":

Plus, the "simpler" shape from the MADS flashbacks would be drawn long after the WCI arc. So this has to be a purposeful change on sensei's part.

What was it beforehand and why the change? What is the newer shape supposed to be?

So anyway, that realisation prompted me to look into Karura (the Japanese interpretation of Garuda) because I thought the current belt shape looks like the helmet Judge is wearing, which in turn vaguely reminds me of headdresses in Buddhist gods' statuary.

I think there could be connection between the two in terms of design:

Like, his hair could look reminiscent of the Karura's "fire halo".

The Karura in Japan is a being who is heavily associated with flames (which happens to also look like number 6 spirals in the statue, very interestingly). Some Buddhist teaching even say the Karura either manifests itself as flames, or lends its flames in support to other deities.

Karura's "fire halo" behind Fudou Myou'ou:

This I find to be even more curious, because in the first place Garuda is divine being, and Garuda's "holy flame" is something that purifies evil. Judge seems to be awful in every way, so why give him a nickname that's based on a holy being? Is this just irony, or is this a hint that there's something weird going on that has yet to be revealed? (something in their ancient history?)

Also, about the "69" in the skull's eyes. Even Sanji's Stealth Black/Osoba Mask belt has that "69" element, even if it's in the little wings on the sides and not the skull's eyes. Is that symbol so important that it needs to be everywhere? (to sangerie, if you see this: Niji's belt still has that 69, even much later in the cover story, it just sometimes look wonky in the art because it's too small)

That symbol is known in Japan as "two tomoe" (considered different from yin yang by the Japanese). A tomoe is that comma like shape, and the Germa one is specifically the "right curling" one, because there are versions of it that goes the opposite direction.

A tomoe is also a divine symbol, so it's very frequently seen as the "crest" of shrines. Funnily enough the origin of the tomoe symbol is actually water, but I'm not sure if sensei would go out of his way to research that. If he was using this as a purposeful symbol I feel like he's using it more in the generic divine/shrine related usage.

It's a symbol you see in the drums used by the the Raijin (god of thunder), which also was the design inspiration for Enel.

Interesting thunder/lightning connection there. It's 3, though, and not 2, so I'm not sure if this means anything.

You see that exact symbol with just two in Wano, though it's turned 90 degrees anticlockwise:

I have wondered multiple times if the Vinsmokes have connection to Wano in their past. Even literally just a few hours ago I made a post mentioning the same thing. I always worry that I'm making too deep of a reach, but every now and then I still wonder.

It also has historical connection in Japan, since a two tomoe design is a common samurai crest. I highly doubt it's related to this, but that exact "69" shaped crest is the crest strongly associated with the 47 Ronin.

The interesting thing about the 47 Ronin is that even though they're typically celebrated as heroes who defeated an evil lord even to this day, by historical accounts the 47 ronin were actually the ones in the wrong and the guy they had revenge on wasn't a tyrant or corrupt official. Still, I don't think this has any relevance.

I mean, there's nothing about Germa that suggests that "they seem evil, but actually they're secretly good".

I will admit there is a part of me that is developing a suspicion that there could be a random twist where Germa's whole point was "their motivation/end goal is not bad, but their methods is what's really absolutely disgusting" for various reasons. As in, what if their desire to conquer the North Blue is not just for greed or power, but for a bigger goal beyond it, and this "bigger goal" might not be entirely bad.

I doubt it, because so far everything that we've been shown is just nasty. I'm just automatically suspicious because the World Government labelled them evil, and I don't trust WG.

It could just be something like "they're so evil, that even demons are disgusted", though.

[unknownfrom34]

Courtship

For @muzzleroars

On this post, I write a MichaelxV2 fanfic. Fluff writing about the Angelic courtship dance performed by a robot so I decided to be like this part. (Where they dance. Haha. I hope you won't mind 😅) Plus pronouns for V2 will be He/Her btw. I had edited out last minute edits before posting this so I hope you'll like it.

Enjoy. ——————————————————————————————————

"...And V1 had done that? To your brother?"

Michael nodded. He couldn't and still can't, believe that Raphael had helped but it made his already literally rotting heart flutter with reassurance that he tried.

"Yes indeed. He had helped the Machine to court Gabriel into marriage but I am surprised that he helped regardless."

"It must've been shocking." V2 tilted her head to the right.

Michael laughed gently as he placed his hand on his helm, a finger tenderly tracing the cracks. "I can't ridicule him for doing this." he spoke after a moment, still tracing the helmet's cracks mindlessly. "He is my brother and helping others is in our nature."

Michael finally removed his hand and turned towards the red automation. A mirror. A near perfect mirror of her processor painted as red as blood as the protector of peace. Blood tubes painted blue to ensure that he stood out of V1, the newly risen robotic angel and symbol of his brother's love Gabriel willing to give.

V2's processers is recording her findings on culture of Heaven. She had learned a lot from Gabriel in Fraud Layer she lived in, only from what he had been told from his perspective but when offered to see it for herself. It is truly a place of Paradise for what's left of Humanity to go to. Free of pain and suffering and found something she had been lacking in her making: Peace.

Still, the courtship dance is one of the private parts of Heaven over an millennia after Lucifer had fallen down with many other angels as it is considered a taboo by the Father. He had seen them prior to the former banished into Hell itself. The Hell that she and V1 had been born into when New Peace was established.

Curiously a few of his eight wings twitched slightly with another question in her hard drives as Michael took a sip from a cup provided by Raphael, due to a rotting jaw that seemingly be made of light gold, he was recommended to only drinks now.

"May I ask you again, Michael?" "Please do," He accepted, "What is it on your mind, Machine?"

He hesitated. "Have you ever been courted before?"

Michael nearly spit out his drink.

"I beg your pardon?" "Has anyone ever court you before?"

Michael went silent for a moment. He placed a palm on his exposed ribcage adorn with colorful radiant jewels and chains of sliver and gold.

"No." He answered honesty. "I have not been courted by any an angel nor human, Machine." he shook his head lightly. "Many had looked at and up to me as a leader chosen to lead His people and man kind throughout these centuries." He placed his hand again on his helm with a hint of flustered and nonsenses of the question. Turning away from V2. "Many of them knew this is an forbidden act to do, and even worse, the Prince of Heaven in place of Lucifer's and the Lord. I never even try to do courtshiping ritual."

V2 looked at him for a moment.

"Michael." V2 said finally, with a little bit of worry but confidence so little in his machinal voice. "Do you think that I..." Michael turned to look at her once again. "That I... that I do the heavenly courtship dance?"

"You?" Michael could almost chuckle but it was raspy due to a ruined larynx, it was ruined due to the event had had tried to sever his Light in attempt to show his loyalty to Lord he had long-since searched for... and Failed. He will save that story for later yet the machine like V2 could do the ritual is rather funny to him but...

But since Gabriel fell, since V2 was rebuilt and since, for him too much to bare; Even tried binding his brother before reason was struck into him by Gabriel's words, even in Hellish language, they still reached him and even worsen to do to him, he had tried to get him to see V1's corruption by having V2 himself as his date but... All of those failures, taken away his pride but made room for love, humble and a door open for a way for his own sins to be forgiven.

The plan to "open his brother's eyes" had backfired when feelings of this machine, the same way as Gabriel had and... To be honest when he looked back on it. He guessed that's what the race of Man calls "Petty."

Nonetheless, Michael had learned more of V2 being a replacement, ruined and will perish one day like himself will too. He could... He could watch her try. And if he was courted, well, only he will decide to tell or not tell the masses of Heaven.

"Well," He began to say, thoughtfully. "I cannot why not."

V2's optic seem to opened up a little, stars in his eyes with wings flutter a little behind him as he stood upright and then hand over his metallic abdomen and bowed with another arm extended out from him.

Head rose up and then one foot back and then he jumped into the air in a twirl, golden glowing wings flared out in display and then sticks the landing on two feet like a ballerina. Silent amazement resonating in Michael as he watched on. On the right and left of four appendages each. The right bottom one twitched slightly before one after another followed suit going up and then on the upper left appendage repeated this going downwards.

Then them both do it upwards and downwards before crouching down on fours as eight of them gone together to make it seem like they had only one pair of two wings before slowly raises up on two feet once again. Before too long, the eight wings came back but yellow faded into sapphire blue as two of each go downward and then soon out on display.

"This is..." She started to say, "This is so confusing to me, how do you all do it?" Michael, watching the progress had come to an metaphorical halt, placing his drink down and then stand up. He was feeling ridiculous for explaining this but he will feel even more not doing so. He said "Allow me." simply but his voice is gentler by the sound of it.

In his own display of wings, his four wings unfolded in brilliant shades and gradients of pinks, purples, magentas, and violets for a machine or soul to see. The wings then came around and covering Michael slowly and purposely to insight curiosity from the latter and then spun away before he unfolded the wings and then dashed towards V2 before stopping in front of him. The helm barely reached his ribcage and Michael is staring down at them before crouching down, wings flapping down to touch the floor before he stood up and hands grabbing onto forearms (so not to tear the skin and flesh off) after placing them behind his back and circled around him gracefully and leisurely.

V2, stunned but mesmerized, watching the head chief prince closely with wings behind her gently lowered down with her CPU was recording this in wonder before abruptly disappeared in a flash of light. Her optic blinked and looked to her left and right before something shines behind him.

Before he could turn to see, a pair of hands quickly covered his optic and wings enveloped around her as feeling of a helm lightly touching the surface of her own as his head was lifted up a little. Hands then removed themselves from his optic to see Michael roving above him, allowing the small robot to bathe in the glowing lights of his wings.

Both of them lost in a void of a colorful light.

Eight wings of his own twitch with surprise softly, blue began to share a gradient of light pink as he looked up at the Prince of Heaven before one hand lightly taking a hand, a hand that is nearly identical to V2's left one before raising it up and then spun the peace-keeping machine around with trails of neon blue and pink following behind her as four wings flown away steadily.

He kept spinning them to his right before letting go and catching V2 as a leg was raised up while he leaned backwards before lifting upward, lightly urged by a hand on her back with her wings fanning out as she was brought close to his chest.

Feet kept going in a dance of wings of beauty and grace for as long as it could go, a ritual was in fact an success by this point.

Midway, Michael had his hand on V2's back again and the other holding his hand, fingers intertwined, as they looked at each other.

"You have a surprising amount of grace for a machine." Michael commented, looking at his optic with interest. "Oh yeah?" V2 chuckled lightly. "Well, you've got a surprising amount of bugs for an angel."

Michael chuckled at the joke. She wasn't wrong but it was good to laugh once in a while.

"And the expecting tact."

They then spun around as they let go, wings behind them before they flapped, neon and natural light coming off from both pairs and soon they came back together with hands holding onto them and then twirled as they held on. Wings made from metal and divine light flapped and fanned out before fluttering and danced on their accord as their feet had became accustomed to the ritual.

They continued on in their rhythm of the heart beats and fans spinning before letting go.

At last, they bowed to one another.

"So, this is what the courtship dance is like." V2 commented as he turned to look at his wings, colors fading into the tips of his wings as they went from pink to blue and finally going back to default yellow. "Dance with someone you are close to."

Michael laughed, both lightly and worryingly as he tilted his head. "It is, Machine." he added. He is worried.

Someone will know that he had been courted and even worse, it was with this machine but they are in his private quarters, the chambers that was once... Once Lucifer's. Still, since they had danced the ritual here, this could be where a little white secret could lie until he will confess this sin. This sin that made him happy.

Michael cleared his throat gently as his wings folded and soon faded from existence. "W-Well, I enjoyed our time together." he said as his fist was placed behind his back and closed his eyes. "Please," He wanted V2 to leave back to his apartment but he hesitated. "It is getting late, do you think you can travel back to the Eighth Layer?"

V2 looked at the pillar that overlooks outside, stars have already decorated the skies as night time has begun and below were a small city and villages built since the Uproar after the Father's death. "I will but-" V2 turned over to Michael, with another question in mind. "Do you think that I could stay here, but for the night?" he asked as he used his hand to rub his arm. "I haven't seen an actual night like this." No. No you will not.

That's what he wanted to say.

"Of course, but only for one night... V2." He answered this instead.

V2 light up a little before bowing her head. "Thank you, Michael."

Michael bowed his head as well. "You are welcome, I hope you will enjoy the night." he said as he watched him sitting down and crossed his legs on one of many luxurious pillows to watch at the skies with wonder and silent joy.

Michael just wanted to offer her a room of her own but stopped himself. "Have a good night, V2." He bided good night before he turned and then headed towards his own resting chambers as V2 bids him a good evening as well.

Oh God Almighty, what is he even doing?

He had offered the machine to sleep over in the Eighth Sphere of Heaven for the night and only for the night. And all after that ritual of courtship!

He moved a fabric leading into his room away and letting it fall behind him as his head looked at it. He turned to his left arm and noticed new flowers have grown from the wounds. He must've accidentally scratched it during that dance as he carefully recognized them.

Peace lilies, cosmos and apple blooms.

No doubt this was related to the dance.

Michael turned to the fabric once again and peaked to see V2, still there right where he left her, watching the view and a dim lunar light before letting the fabric drop once again. It was the first time he had participated the ritual and he hoped it would also be the last yet.

His wings made from glass and metal, stamina long enough to keep up with him and the look in the optic. An angel of iron and blood he had greeted as an plan to restore Gabriel yet he could've known that this robot...

Never meant to be an replacement. Striped of purpose. Failed in securing something far from her reach. Stoic. Intelligent.

V2 was just like himself. He could come to talk to Raphael for advise on this newfound friendship but still on the same matter, maybe he could ask him if they could dance one more time before turning in for the night.

[anonymousewrites]

Clan of Three (Book 2) Chapter Eighteen

Father Figure! Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Teen! Reader

Chapter Eighteen: The Return

Summary: Mando, (Y/N), and Grogu are reunited. Of course, it's in the middle of the fight.

Mouse Note: I think it's important that MC really hasn't changed and runs straight into a fight.

            R2-D2 landed Luke’s X-wing at Peli’s hangar as (Y/N) directed, and the ship opened up. Peli, obviously worried some New Republic officers were coming to mess with business, ran out with her droids to see who it was (and chase any problems off).

            “Hello, officer!” said Peli jovially. “I filed for my New Republic certification seal just as you were landing. Quite a coincidence, if you ask me!”

            “Relax, Peli,” said (Y/N), popping up from the seat with Grogu in their lap. “No one’s investigating you!”

            A delighted grin appeared on her face. “Well, look who it is! (Y/N) and the kid!”

            “His name’s Grogu,” said (Y/N).

            “Grogu? What a name for the womp rat,” said Peli fondly as (Y/N) and Grogu got down from the X-wing. “Well, well, well, how long has it been? A year? What’re you doing here?”

            “We’re looking for Mando,” said (Y/N).

            “He’s on a job in Mos Espa, I think,” said Peli.

            “Will you take us?” asked (Y/N).

            “Why not? I owe you and the Mandalorian enough, and I still might be able to squeeze some cash for bringing his kids back,” said Peli, already counting the possible cash. “Alright, droids! Get the cart going!”

            (Y/N) snorted. Things were going back to normal already.

l

            Things are really back to normal, thought (Y/N). As soon as Peli, Grogu, and they had arrived in Mos Espa, the sounds of shouts and blaster fire were a loud clamor in the air. There was a battle going on. (Y/N) grinned.

            “Watch Grogu,” said (Y/N).

            “Huh?” Peli turned around. “What?”

            (Y/N) leapt up out of the cart, disappearing across the rooftops of Mos Espa. If there was danger, they wanted to face it (and hopefully find Mando). Plus, they felt their instincts come to life. They were back where they belonged.

            “Hey!” cried Peli. She huffed. “Looks like it’s just you and me finding your dad, kiddo. Come on, droid, keep going!”

            The droid obeyed quickly, and the cart lurched around the corner. All was silent in the road until suddenly the very Mandalorian they were looking for ran around a corner towards them.

            “Mando! Ha! We found you!” said Peli. “I got a surprise for you!”

            “Turn around!” cried Mando.

            “What?” cried Peli over the sounds of shouts and blaster fire.

            “Turn around!” repeated Mando.

            “I can’t hear you!” said Peli.

            Her eyes widened as a Scorponek annihilator droid, energy field and all, turned the corner and began shooting at them as Mando fired back to no avail.

            “Turn around!” shouted Peli to the droid pulling her cart. She screamed as the droid sharply turned, and Mando jumped onto the back of the cart to escape the Scorponek.

            “Can this thing go any faster?!” cried Mando.

            “Go faster, you bucket of bolts!” ordered Peli, throwing a wrench at the droid, and it went faster. “Hey, Mando!” said Peli over the whipping wind. “Look who’s here!” She unfolded a blanket to reveal Grogu.

            “What?” Mando’s breath hitched as he saw Grogu, and he felt a wave of happiness as seeing his kid fly through him. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Grogu jumped up into his arms. “Oh!” He hugged Grogu. “Okay little guy. I missed you, too. Hey, and you got the shirt. Nice. Where’s (Y/N)?” He frowned beneath his helmet. Wait… “Where the hell is my other kid?!”

            “Uh…” Peli coughed and was about to respond that she’d lost them when the Scorponek landed a shot.

            The droid dragging them fell, and the cart flipped, throwing all three into the air. Mando pulled Grogu close as he landed, protecting the kid from harm. He turned over with Peli, and the pair shot at the approaching Scorponek, hurrying to get up. As Peli and Mando backed into an alcove, a figure leapt onto the Scorponek from the roofs.

            Mando’s heart simultaneously stopped and leapt to life. It was (Y/N)! He was torn between pure joy at having his kid and pure fear at them already throwing themself into danger. He hadn’t missed the stress of worrying for them.

            On (Y/N)’s part, they drove their gleaming dagger into the wires and cables around the Scorponek’s blaster arm. The arm began to glitch, and (Y/N) pushed their hand down, using the Force to push at the mechanical piece. The arm snapped off and collapsed to the ground with a resounding thud as the energy shield surrounding the Scorponek deactivated. (Y/N) toppled to the ground, and Mando, pushing Grogu into Peli’s arms, rushed out to catch them. He pulled them close and drew his blaster as he faced the Scorponek. Mando would protect (Y/N). He had just gotten them back.

            As the Scorponek turned on them, Grogu waddled out, raised a hand, and pulled a bolt from the Scorponek. The droid, now on its last legs as one leg fell apart, collapsed, unable to even stand. Mando pulled (Y/N) back as it attempted to pull itself up, but Boba Fett, riding a rancor, landed on the Scorponek. ((Y/N) had gotten filled in with some of the politics of Tatooine from Peli. The mechanic didn’t care about much but the bounty hunter taking over Mos Espa had been the talk of the town as the power structure changed). The rancor roared and smashed a fist into the working arm of the Scorponek. At Boba’s direction, it continued to rip the droid apart until it fell, deactivated.

            “Do it,” commanded Boba.

            The rancor roared and ripped the Scorponek in two. Boba didn’t rest on his laurels and turned the rancor away to return to the rest of the battle and the other Scorponek still functioning. That left Peli, Grogu, Mando, and (Y/N) on their own.

            (Y/N) turned to Mando as they stood and brushed the sand and dust from their shirt. They looked at him awkwardly. “Hi.”

            Mando pulled them into another hug. “I missed you, Ad’ika.”

            (Y/N) held Mando tighter, pushing back the tears threatening to fall. “I missed you, too, Buir.”

            “Hey! Save the tender moment! We’re still under attack!” shouted Peli, hoisting her gun and running off towards the fight.

            (Y/N) and Mando drew apart, and Mando picked up Grogu and tossed a blaster to (Y/N). “Are you ready?”

            (Y/N) grinned. They were back with their buir and ready to fight alongside him. “When am I not ready for a fight?” Of course they were ready.

            The group ran off through Mos Espa, weapons drawn and ready for enemies around every corner. As they found the rest of their allies ((Y/N) decided that whoever was shooting at the same people Mando did were on their side), they fired at the standing opponents as Boba and the rancor ripped into the remaining Scorponek.

            “Keep them on their heels!” shouted Mando, spurring the allies on. “They’re on the run!”

            (Y/N) was right by his side, firing and felling the enemies trying to make an escape to fight another day. They were ending this today. (Y/N) leapt up onto the rooftops to shoot from the high ground again, hitting anyone trying to run at Mando and Grogu. The rancor roared and threw the scraps of the Scorponek away. Boba and the rancor took down the last mercenaries.

            A bounty hunter with blue skin emerged from the shadows and shot the rancor, knocking Boba down. (Y/N) narrowed their eyes and ducked down. They suspected the bounty hunter was a better shot than them, and they weren’t looking to get shot, so they just watched as Boba and the hunter faced off. Behind the hunters, the rancor climbed up on top of several buildings and roared, angry at being harmed (Luckily, not the same roofs as (Y/N)). Boba and the bounty hunter faced each other, each holding their blasters at their sides.

            “Clear out and take your hoodlum gang with you,” ordered Boba.

            “I’ve known you for a long time, Boba,” said the hunter. “One thing I can’t figure. What’s your angle?”

            “This is my city,” said Boba. “These are my people. I will not abandon them.”

            “Like the Tuskens,” jeered the bounty hunter.

            “Don’t toy with me,” said Boba. “I’m not a little boy any longer, and you are an old man.”

            “I’m still faster than you,” hissed the hunter.

            “That may be, but I have armor,” said Boba.

            “Let’s find out,” said the hunter.

            They drew their weapons and fired. Boba fell from the hit to his armor, but he was alive.

            “Now’s about the time you jet off to your bacta tank,” sneered the bounty hunter, approaching Boba as he rolled to his feet.

            “This is my city!” Boba jumped up and fired his flamethrower.

            The bounty hunter rolled to the side and shot Boba down again.

            “You gave it a shot,” said the bounty hunter. “You tried to go straight. But you’ve got your father’s blood pumping through your veins. You’re a killer.” He kicked Boba’s side. “This isn’t the first time I beat you out on a job.” He ground his foot down on Boba’s wrist and crouched. “There’s no shame in it.” He ripped the helmet from Boba’s head before standing back up to sneer down at Boba. “Consider this my final lesson. Look out for yourself. Anything else is weakness.” He raised a blaster to Boba’s face.

            In a single swift motion, Boba grabbed a Tusken spear, knocked the blue-skinned bounty hunter down, and hit the blaster from his hand. He stood over the hunter again.

            “I knew you were a killer,” spat the hunter again.

            He attempted to fire a flamethrower at Boba, but Boba redirected the arm and stabbed down on the hunter’s chest. The battle was over. (Y/N) breathed a sigh of relief before jumping down from the roof to find Mando and Grogu.

            “Are you guys okay?” asked (Y/N), looking between them.

            “Are you, Verd’ika?” asked Mando, reaching out to them.

            Before anything else, however, the rancor roared from atop the roof, and their group dodged the falling debris. It was on a rampage. Boba’s group drew their blasters and shot at it as it broke a building apart, and the rancor responded by throwing a speeder at them. They ducked and narrowly avoided being crushed. Unfortunately, the rancor was even angrier.

            “You’re scaring it!” shouted (Y/N).

            Mando ran out in front of the group. “Put your blasters down! Stop shooting!” They were only making the situation worse.

            The rancor roared and climbed the tower behind it, glaring down at them.

            Mando turned to (Y/N) and handed Grogu to them. “Keep him safe.” He handed the little metal lever top to Grogu. “Here. Hang on to this.” He looked at both his adike. “It’s gonna be okay.”

            He started his jetpack and flew up into the air towards the rancor. Mando landed on the back and grabbed the reigns to haul the rancor back, but it roared and grabbed him tightly. It threw him down onto another roof, and (Y/N) and Grogu gasped in worry. The rancor slammed its fist down and knocked Mando through the roof to the floor below.

            “Buir!” cried (Y/N) as the rancor picked him up again.

            Mando fired his flamethrower into the rancor’s open mouth, and it threw him to the floor in anger. It roared and jumped down after him. (Y/N) made a split-second decision and allowed their instincts, the Force, the Way, whatever it was to them, to guide them.

            They ran between the rancor and Mando.

            It growled at them and lowered its fanged mouth towards them. (Y/N) took a deep breath and faced it. It growled once more, but (Y/N) didn’t flinch. They simply gazed back at the rancor, unfazed and unafraid. The rancor roared, and (Y/N) just blinked. Gently, they raised a hand, extending it towards the rancor. It was a hurt animal, just like the cattle (Y/N) had worked with back on Ushti. They could extend the same respect they had given those animals to this one. It was as afraid, angry, and injured as anyone else in this battle. (Y/N) would let the rancor see they understood.

            The rancor paused as (Y/N) allowed the Force to flow from them to it. It could feel (Y/N)’s calm. It seemed to take a deep breath as (Y/N) gazed at it, their hand still firmly extended. They closed their eyes, and the rancor followed suit.

            Rest. You did your part, thought (Y/N).

            As if bidden by their request, the rancor was lulled into slumber. Calm returned to the street as the rancor was calmed. (Y/N) released a breath and let their hand drop.

            Mando watched them carefully as they took a step closer. Already, their fighting was more advanced than it had been a year ago. But that with the rancor? That was the Force stuff Ahsoka had. (Y/N) had grown stronger, and Mando was proud. His ad’ika had grown into a fine warrior, and more than that, they were a better person. They knew when fighting was not necessary. So although it was a shock to see (Y/N)’s abilities in action, Mando’s pride in his ad’ika was overwhelmingly present.

            (Y/N) turned back to Mando and smiled. Mando hoped they knew he was smiling back. That was his verd’ika, his ad’ika. They were back.

l

            “Thank you for your assistance,” said Boba, shaking Mando and then (Y/N)’s hand. “Mos Espa owes you a debt.”

            “Consider us even for helping me with the Empire,” said Mando.

            (Y/N) nodded. “Thank you,” they said, finally having a chance to thank Boba and Fennec for helping Mando get to Moff Gideon’s cruiser to free (Y/N) and Grogu. They glanced between Boba and Fennec. “Really.”

            “Safe travels, and if you ever want a job, Mos Espa would welcome you,” said Fennec to Mando and (Y/N).

            Mando nodded. “We’ll see you around.”

            Boba Fett nodded in farewell as he and Fennec turned and left. It was just Grogu, (Y/N), and Mando again. (Y/N) removed the blaster from their belt and held it out to Mando.

            “Keep it,” said Mando.

            “Like I should keep the dagger?” asked (Y/N).

            Mando paused and looked at them. “Do you like it? I was hoping it was alright to make it still Ushti since your parents gave it to you, but I didn’t want to infringe on your relationship with them—”

            “I love it,” said (Y/N). “It’s exactly what I needed.”

            Mando relaxed in relief. “I’m glad. I wanted you to have something from me. That way even if we never saw each other again, you could remember me.”

            (Y/N) shifted, nervous at the vulnerability they were about to show. “I…I missed you. I always wanted to be back here with you.”

            “Really?” asked Mando, voice hoarse. Grogu cooed in agreement, and Mando’s heart swelled as he realized his kids never wanted to leave him and never forgot him.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), their brows creased in embarrassment as they were honest about their feelings.

            “I’m happy you’re back, Ad’ika. You and Grogu,” said Mando, holding Grogu closer and drawing (Y/N) in.

            They wrapped their arms around him and smiled into his armor. “I’m happy I’m back, Buir.”

            Buir. Ad’ika. Father and Child. Their Clan of Three was back together.

Taglist:

@im-making-an-effort

@gr33n-d00dles

@alexpangender

@painstakingly-juno

@treehouse-mouse

@theurbannoodle

@pedropascalsidechick

@dmitrytherat

@dilfsaremyfavourite

[aikoiya]

Jazz as Altair (The Bluebird of Gotham)

This is based on @tireduniversityscam's Halfa Jazz with Parent Syndrome au, a.k.a. BrucexJazz & @lordgrimoire's Bluebird vigilante Jazz.

I'm thinking that Jazz's vigilante name could be either Altair after the bluebird star (as homage to her brother, the astronerd) or just simply The Bluebird. As bluebirds represent hope, love, renewal, optimism, joy, as well as symbolizing the essence of life & beauty. Not to mention Immortality.

Also, seeing a bluebird after a death represents that the soul of your lost loved one has reached the afterlife. So, seeing her tends to give comfort to those who've lost loved ones.

I see her looking like this:

But maybe with her hair more resembling mist instead of water should her main element be wind instead of water to go with the bluebird aesthetic. Same color, but mist.

Here's a close up of her hat:

I see her using a Fenton Whiplash (just an anti-ecto whip) or just being able to form her ectoplasm into a whip. Either/or.

Also, this mask:

This is her with the mask:

If not a trenchcoat, then a blue cape that fans out to look like bird wings when she's flying. Like the Roc's Cape from LoZ: Minish Cap.

I always hc'd that she'd have psychic empathy, minor clairvoyance, minor mindreading, & telekinesis as a halfa cus it seems the sort of thing she'd have. She comes across as very psychic oriented.

Plus, Spectral Acknowledgement, which is a fun power:

Again, her primary core element could be either water or wind.

I see her having a ghost sense, it being a family thing. However, hers would be different based on her element. If water, it works like sonar & is more close range than Danny's & when it goes off, her eyes get watery, a single stream of tears falling from her eyes. I don't know how it'd manifest with wind, though.

I see Jazz taking the role of a medium as a vigilante. Helping Shades to move on. The Shades I think of is inspired by the ghosts from the Blackwell games & when doing medium things, Jazz tends to do similar things as in the game. Helping the Shades to get to a point where they can move on, which can result in them becoming ecto-ghosts later. However, helping Shades to fulfill whatever is keeping them on earth makes it less likely for them to become ecto-ghosts & more likely to move onto whatever is next. If she just fights them & sucks them up into a thermos, they're more likely to turn into ecto-ghosts & possibly come back. The reason being that emotional attachments, unfinished business, & so on, causes strong, often distressed emotions, which attracts ectoplasm & causes it to stick to a soul. The more ectoplasm sticks to a soul, eventually it'll form a core which is how ecto-ghosts come into being. At least, when spirits of the dead are involved.

For more on the formation of ghosts, go here:

Seriously, the Blackwell series is great & you should definitely go play it or watch someone else play it.

Anyway, Jazz does regular vigilante stuff too, but I feel like this would give her a bit of mystique as a hero. It also meshes well with her therapist focus.

I see her originally patrolling from just before midnight to just after dawn, but after Duke joins, she extended her schedule to midday in case he needs help. She works between midnight & dawn because that's the timeframe where ghosts, spirits, shades, & other such spectral entities are the strongest & cause the most disturbances with 3:00 am being when it peaks.

As for Jason as the Cardinal, I think this would look good for his mask:

Also, one of these hooded jackets:

They're freaking badass!

No helmet & give him a red bird symbol on his chest.

Everything else could match with the second jacket's outfit though.

This is also a really cool design for halfa Jason:

I love the design for his hair, especially the little shadowy flame for that little tuft.

I just really like the idea of Jason with shadow powers, like from @dxrksong.

One of his powers is being able to control his shadow. However, he doesn't have full-on umbramancy. Rather, like I said, he can only control his shadow. At the same time, he can cover himself in it for added protection & it gives him an aura like black flames licking over his skin. He can also make shadowy claws out of them for added melee. It's metal af, okay?

His shadow is controlled entirely by his wants, so it can do a lot of things similar to what Dr. Facilier could in Princess & the Frog.

While he can't control the shadows of others, if he makes his shadow touch other shadows, like if his shadow strangled another person's shadow, it'd result in the owner of said shadow choking for real.

At the same time, saving one's self from said shadow is as simple as shining a bright light all around themselves so that the shadow can't come near.

If they're in an alley at night with no lights, then the shadow can navigate the walls & surfaces unseen as it blends in perfectly.

Can also merge with his shadow & travel through shadows or jump from shadowy spot to shadowy spot.

Also, All-Blades are necessary. I dunno how, but they are.