#also has top tier insults

[randomnameless]

The phrase “we have been aware of the high levels of competency from KT's writers, especially with their work for 3H” is worrying; i'm not going to shit-talk them just for thinking that 3H has a good story, especially when someone's standards for what makes a story good or not is subjective and could be different from ours, but KT's story-telling skills are never going to improve if people keep only telling them that Three Houses' deeply-flawed story was actually a narrative masterpiece, instead of a self-contradicting mess with plot points it introduces solely as gotchas and has no intention of ever following up on in any meaningful way, characters getting assassinated left and right to try and argue that female Ashnard might actually be right and not so different from them in terms of morality and goals (while they're in the middle of fighting for their lives and watching their friends die in battle because she decided to invade their home unprovoked and solely for a landgrab), and an over-powered villain group that should have ended the story long before it even started because the writers decided to give them a stockpile of magic nukes they can launch at anywhere in the world, which was also introduced solely for shock value and without them realizing how much of the story is ruined by making it so that the villains who want to kill everyone and take over the world can just nuke anyone they want (that isn't inside Garreg Mach when they launch it) with no consequences.

I just don't like what it means for the future of FE stories if the worst story in the series keeps getting praised as one of the best, even by separate developers, is all.

Wait and see anon!

For what it's worth, while Engage's sales are apparently not as stellar as Houses in the same timeframe (like House after month 1 and Engage after month 1?), Nopes totally crashed.

Amazon isn't the only market in the world, but in some places in the world (tfw not for amazon.fr) Nopes is now sold at around 15 bucks, which is ridiculous considering older games released on consoles still being in circulation are more expensive than this thing that is barely 1 year old(even the first FEW?).

Also, Engage was supposed to have been released earlier but Covid and Houses being released later than planned meant it was delayed, but Engage was supposed to be Fodlan's antithesis, at least writing wise - you'd think IS would have tried to retrofit more Fodlan themes (maybe more uwu maybe some villains aren't BaD and earl grey because they luf u) but they didn't.

Imo, fwiw, while KT apparently loved how Fodlan was received, IS is aghast and doesn't want to touch it within a 10 meters radius, only if it means selling units in FEH and even there, they sometimes retcon Fodlan units (hello F!Billy/Sothis) or challenge them in various FB (Brave!Supreme Leader, but also in the most recent one, Sylvain harping on his Crust being BaD...) clearly showing how they don't really want to follow KT's direction regarding those units - at times, it's almost as if the CoS receives more development in Heroes than in both Fodlan games!

So I'd like to see what IS has in store for the next FE games (or the next non remake FE game), even if in my opinion, given how Heroes has to retcon/finish the writing (Mercedes reveals more about her Adrestian family in FEH than in two of her games!) for characters just to sell them in the gacha game ffs, speaks volumes on what they think of Fodlan's writing.

On top of that, FE16 was the first game where people received surveys/mails from Nintendo/IS asking them if they understood the game... - so despite Fodlan selling well (better than expected?), imo it's clear the writing isn't to praise, at least for IS, and they don't want anything to do with it (Nopes' DLC was scrapped, when shiny!Rhea's sprite was datamined, so either they made an useless sprite, either this sprite might have been used in a future DLC?)

They can still butcher a future remake (plz no jugdral) by adding pointless supports between units and trying to uwu more than needed the red emperor - or add an OC waifu du jour who will sell merchs and try to uwu her if she is on the side of the red emperor - but I feel like we will see where they will go with a brand new game (since Heroes's writing is... as consistent as a fog and basically circles around "women sad'n'lonely*, men evyl", female playable OC simps after the avatar and is useless in the resolution of the plot because Alfonse will finally find a mc guffin way to defeat the villain of the year).

*i truly hope Vero isn't any indication to what the writing of the future games will be, like heavy retcons from her first apparition to "i was brainwashed and akshually everyone supports me from my home even if i send them to death against askr because the voice in my head told me to do it" because that'd suck, but vero is a young woman, thus she could be monetised for alts, figurines and even DLC content in a main game!

[theperrylleluniverse]

Proof TCOT Grinning Gorilla is an incredible episode actually

[thehighladywrites]

𝖠𝖢𝖮𝖳𝖠𝖱 𝗆𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝖧𝖢’𝖲

summary: being girly in a world full of haters can be hard sometimes! I mean, people hate all the time. but these males don’t let any disrespect towards you slide. They protect you through and through 👀

warnings: fluff, tw:beron😒

amara’s note: this went from being an azriel fic, to rhys and azriel, to batboys, to batboys+lucien and finally all of them. Honestly idc bc i love all of them🤭🤭

Rhysand

Fashion bf x barbie doll gf

I can’t think of anything more cuter than being his doll.

The man does everything for you,

Picking out materials for dresses, designing them for you, working with a private seamstress to bring his visions to life

He knows you best and always supplies the cutest, girliest outfits ever

This man is so attentive and caring, he doesn’t even have to ask what you want to wear, he just knows. It’s like you share a brain

Rhys absolutely loves it when you ask for his advice on hairstyles and fashion choices. He literally goes into designer mode and fixes you up reaaaal nice

When you guys are in the Hewn City, you don’t care, you still wear your pink girly clothes bc who’s gonna say anything to the high lady?

Sparkly accessories, high heels, pretty makeup and cute hairstyles is your trademark.

Rhys loves that you are super girly, he likes the dynamic of him being dark and mysterious and you being bright and bubbly

He protects you like crazy, no one is even managing to say something insulting to you bc rhys takes care or it before the sentence even forms in their mind

Cassian

brooding bf x sunshine gf

This combo is top tier

At first, Cassian might've thought you were a bit too cheery and too involved in yourself. I mean, who else has a massive stash of fragrances, lotions, sparkly jewels, clothes, tons of bags, and enough shoes to fill a closet?

Also, who in the world is that insanely cheerful? There are a million things to focus on, and you're there pondering over matching shades of pink and which bag to wear for the day.

He tries to keep his distance, but you're so inviting and warm that he just melts and falls head over heels in love.

Cassian also falls in love with how much you care for yourself and how adorable you look every single day.

You notice how you’re always seeing him always in plain, simple athleisure or leather. So, you take matters into your own hands and whisk him away for a shopping spree, upgrading his entire wardrobe. Despite his potential, he's been stuck in a rut of black, plain, and boring clothes, and you're determined to change that.

After just a few weeks of being together, this guy has a full-on skincare routine, knows how to coordinate outfits flawlessly so he looks very put together and handsome

He has even mastered the art of silky-smooth hair thanks to you. You've truly leveled him up in every way.

Everyone can't help but notice how much more refreshed and attractive Cassian looks, and it's making you second-guess your decision to help him level up because now, people are hitting on him even more.

Azriel

Scary bf x shy gf

Top tier combo again

No one really knows how such polar opposites ended up together, but suppose they do say opposites attract.

Azriel is stoic around everyone who isn’t the direct inner circle. He lets loose around his found family but even more so around you

Really, he is super comfortable and funny when you’re alone

Azriel notices how soft spoken and kind hearted you are very early on

He is very attentive and your style is actually first thing he notices

The frilly skirts, cute tops, styled hair, cutesy nails and an aura that screamed femininity

He considers his daggers as accessories while you wear cute headbands and ribbons in your hair

Azriel’s fav activity is watching you get ready for anything, whether it be for bed, an event, in the mornings or date nights

He just adores watching your moves, how much effort you put in, the different techniques you use and how you pamper yourself

Pride fills him when he sees how relaxed and put together you feel and look. There is nothing he likes more than seeing you happy with yourself

I also believe az can be traditional and likes the dynamic of having a girly girl mate, or you being all feminine and sweet while he is more masculine and protective

Bro let’s actually talk about protection

No one, I mean absolutely no one, insults you and gets away with it. No matter how snarky the comment, Azriel deals with it.

You’re not as confrontational as him and often hide behind his wings and that makes him even more protective if possible

You always calm him down when someone says something, and he listens to you. If you don't want him to deal with it then and there, he won't ever confront someone in front of you.

Azriel just handles it later, putting fear into people for even daring to approach you.

He wouldn’t do anything remotely scary or frightening in fromt of you. Azriel keeps his work and personal life separate, especially from you

Az couldn’t dream of accidentally putting you in danger, so he never, EVER drags you into his work

You’re not stupid, you know the toll his work takes on him so you are there for him without being too involved, you know how to cheer him up from whatever he is doing behind closed doors

Eris

Arrogant bf x dark feminine gf

Power couple through and through

Eris is canonically extremely well dressed and that makes this dynamic so special

Eris adores splurging on his seamstresses to create matching outfits for both of you.

Best dressed couple in Prythian, hands down

You two are fashion icons, inspiring countless people. People look up to you as their inspiration. Established luxury brands pay you handsomely to flaunt their designs at balls, where all eyes are on you.

Speaking of matching, y’all have matching smirks and cunning mind, and since you’re mates, you have a way of communicating and plotting without anyone knowing

Before, while B*ron🤢 was alive, Eris was ridiculed for having soft hands, clean nails, and good hygiene, which always disgusted him. Why was being clean looked down upon? It disgusted him, knowing that people purposely rather be dirty than clean

Everything got better when you came around and his father passed away. Finally, he had someone who didn't judge him, someone who actually encouraged him to look his best.

You often sit in his lap, plucking his eyebrows as he wears a face mask, his hair pushed back by a cute alien headband.

You often also get manicures, and at first, Eris was like, "This is where I draw the line." But when you suggested just a clear coat and cleaning the nails, he went along with it.

No one knows though. That's the only compromise; I mean, he's still the High Lord, and people can't know he gets manicures. He'd be ridiculed for some stupid macho reason.

Anyways, when it comes to protecting you, no one does it better than him. Not only will he destroy the person with his words but he will blackmail and psychologically torture them. It might seem mean but that’s the price of people not properly respecting their High Lady

Lucien

calm bf x hyper and outspoken gf

you are an absolute sweetheart, there is no one that hates you in the slightest.

In this scenario, I think you're known for rescuing stray animals. It's not like collecting Pokémon cards; instead, you're the person who steps up when there's a stray kitten in need of care.

You definitely live in a cute cottage in the woods with him, not worrying about anything with him there

Your house is an explosion of adorable decor, with pink accents everywhere you look. It's filled with super cute and girly decorations in every corner.

When you start dating Lucien, he notices how hyper you are and how you juggle multiple tasks at once.

Lucien is like your calming anchor, keeping your energy balanced and the vibes serene.

One of your biggest hyperfixations is clothes. Whether it's dresses, coats, pants, shoes, fabrics, or makeup, anything feminine is right up your alley.

And Lucien makes sure you don't overexert yourself, always looking out for your well-being.

Since you're so hyper, you're sometimes loud in certain moments. It really hurts when people tell you to shut up and calm down.

lucien doesn’t let it slide tho

This man defends you however he deems necessary, whether it's with his words or hands.

Just know, he always has your back, no matter what.

No one is suffocating your light and energy if he has anything to do with it.

[norrisleclercf1]

Jenson cuddling his wife who also works in F1 after some mean comments or so got to her and then him telling the guys off for insulting his darlin.

A/N: Wah, I love protective husband Jenson, top tier Jenson

"It's not stupid." Jenson growls, hating the way you are talking yourself down. "It was a stupid question, even the other reporters thought it was stupid." Jenson groans, knowing that the drivers loved your different ways of asking them things.

"Okay but did Max think it was a stupid question?" You whine, hiding your face deeper into his chest as you both lay on the bed. "Y/n, look at me." Jenson's fingers move to your chin and lift you up to look him in the eye.

"Fuck what those bastards say, the question was brilliant. Just like you." Jenson grumbles, craning his neck down to kiss you. "Still Jens, the video is everywhere." Closing your eyes, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheek.

-----------

"It was such a dumbass question, no wonder we get shit from the drivers." Jenson freezes, when he hears this. He was simply trying to get to you, on the other side of the paddock. "Fucker," Jenson grumbles trying to ignore it as Sky Sports mics him up.

"Ignore them, we think the question was great." One of the camera people whispers, watching as the two reporters starts to mimic you. "That's it," He growls, storming over to the two male reporters.

"Hey, dingbats." Jenson smirks, but his smile is anything but kind as he sits down. "So, do you have a problem with what my wife asked? Or are you two so dickless that you have to put down those the drivers actually like?" One of them goes to reply but Jenson holds up his hand.

"Please, don't answer if you have a dick or not. I'm sure it's the size of a hummingbird. Ever, and I mean ever mention my wife again and I'll end your careers. Don't forget that she has the Button name, and I'm not a pussy to throw that weight around. Stay the fuck away from her." Jenson smiles sickly, and stands fixing his shirt.

"Have a lovely, day."

[unfortunate17]

i agree with you about being frustrated with how often this fandom has top/bottom discussions but its a pretty common talking point in most fandoms so YR isn’t special for that

No I totally agree with you that it’s a common topic of discussion in a lot of fandoms, but there’s a particular way we have it in this fandom that really grinds my gears.

And don’t get me wrong, I don’t care if you hc Wilmon to be vers or if you think Wille tops or Simon tops or whatever - it’s the justification and reasoning that I’m seeing behind these headcanons that I find deeply irritating and, frankly, insulting and kind of homophobic.

This is going to get long so forgive me.

1. I’ve seen so many posts talk about how the show is “brave” and “subversive” by having Wille go down on Simon or potentially bottom, but like - what the hell are we even talking about? In what world is it subversive to show a queer character having queer sex?? What are we subverting?? This show has never shown us anything with its intimate scenes other than two guys that are deeply in love and really horny for eachother and I hate that we keep bringing this shit up!!!

2. I’ve also seen people say that it was very important for us to see Wille moving to go down on Simon in the tape in S1 because it’s “more damning evidence that he’s queer” and otherwise Wille could’ve just said he was horny and desperate but he was actually imagining he was with a girl in his denial statement. But be so fucking forreal, in what world is that a thing he could argue in an official statement to the press? He’d be the laughing stock of the world.

Wilhelm isn’t more or less gay because he went down on Simon vs the other way around. He’d still be having queer sex because he’s having sex with another guy. Arguing that the framing here is for anything other than a plot device so Wille’s face wouldn’t be visible to set up the denial is actually kind of ridiculous.

As someone very smart on here said, “I’m sorry that you apparently have a tier list of sex acts ranging from “kinda straight” to “Gaylord” 😭😭 get well soon, couldn’t be me.”

Imagine for one second Simon was the one giving Wille head? Would you have criticized the show for that?? And WHY?!

3. Next: saying that Wilmon’s relationship is “equal” because you think they’re vers is…a take and a half lmao. What the fuck does being vers have to do with a relationship being equal?? Why are we assigning arbitrary hierarchies to sexual preferences??? Why are we implying that topping and bottoming are somehow not equal and you have to carefully balance both, when, ideally, it’s just whatever the fuck everyone is into???

Wille isn’t selfish for topping. Simon isn’t sacrificing anything by bottoming. They’re fucking because they’re in love and they want to 😭

TLDR: Wille doesn’t suck Simon’s dick for class liberation. Simon riding Wille isn’t a commentary on how he’s “girl-coded.” It’s just sex, leave them alone to have a good time and stop assigning agendas to queer sex.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

TAZ 2023 Fic Recs

It is that time of year again! Unfortunately, I don't have as many as last year, mainly because work and Life have been a lot this year. But I am very, very glad to share the fics I have loved this year and I'm looking forward to any other recs!

A Candlenights Barold by @sgrumby - or honestly, all three of the Reaper Squad Candlenights fics! Based off that one liveshow where Merle became Santa Clause. Now it is the job of Barry, Lup, and Kravitz to deliver presents to children every Candlenights! This one is based off A Christmas Carol and is not only hilarious but also super in character.

The Best Version Possible by @thedaisiestdaisy - Taako's experience with past romances, his current one with Kravitz, as well as the aftermath of Story and Song. This is a beautiful, meaningful fic that hits me in the feels every time I read it. It's such a deep, refreshing dive into Taako's character.

a monster might begin to worry by @anistarrose - In short, a Barry-kills-Governer-Kalen AU. In long: Such a good fucking fic. Rose's character voices are top notch and she's so incredibly good at playing with emotions and building up scenes. It's a god-tier Magnus fic, with some fun Magnus-Kravitz interactions and some wonderful hurt/comfort.

Also by Rose and very worth reading:

fill up your lungs, feel better - Barry spies on the BOBs corporate excursion and realizes his family still cares, even if they don't truly know him.

to eat from a poisoned plate - Barry leaves notes in Taako's cookbook.

somewhere over the rainbow (bluebirds fly) - Maureen and Lucretia fall in love. Then, Maureen and Lucretia fall out of love.

midlife crises, laboratory niceties - Barry bulldozes his way into being on the Starblaster crew. Davenport is very concerned <3

colors of space and time - Taako and Lup's relationship with their hair.

Rode Hard And Put Away Wet by @holdmecloser-gandydancer - Band AU!! My beloved!! Lup, Johann, and Kravitz are in a band and it gets. Tough. To put it lightly. Whenever Lup discovers Kravitz and Taako are hooking up. This is a WONDERFUL and super funny fic, that also has it's moments of deep reflections and a lil angst! Plus, Blupjeans! We love that!

Astrology for Horse Jugglers by @noodyl-blasstal - Kravitz and Taako meet at a wedding. This goes badly for everyone except them. This fic is pure chaos and I adore it so, so much.

We Got Boned! - Another one by Noodyl! Barry and Lup write a book for payback, kinda. This one is such a fun, weird turn of events. I cannot describe my love for it.

Revenge Plus One by @ceilingfan5 - Kravitz is invited by his ex (Edward) to go on a cruise. A cruise that will host Edward's wedding. And, to add insult to injury, Edward (rightly) assumes that Kravitz will have no one to bring along. So Kravitz does the responsible adult thing: Invite the gorgeous man who sells bagels in the work cafeteria (Taako) on the cruise with him. There is fake dating! There is tension! There is romance! I love this fic so much, I want to eat it.

a lesson in boy math - Also by Larissa! Speed-dating, Taakitz style. Both Taako and Kravitz are the best shade of weird in this <3

fashion statement by @journalofimprobablethings - Taako takes Lup's robe when he finds her and the umbrella. Lucretia deals with that. This fic? Destroyed me. And I loved it. It's pretty full of angst but the good kind, y'know?? I'm in love.

That's all I got this year!! I hope you all enjoy these fics as much as I did! They're all incredible and I love seeing all the different ideas and takes everyone has :O

[thatdeadaquarius]

OKAY BUT I HAVE MORE IDEA FOR BLUNT READER CUZ I LOVE THAT AU SO MUCHANDMDJFKSLDKF

So you know how french people's insult are always outta pocket (from a person who's first language is french I can tell you that no other language compares in insult -apart for African languages)

Like,, some "bad" insult here would be : bitch, fuck off, whore,..

Which we can all agree is boring...

BUT THEN IN FRENCH!!!

We be getting creative with it

Eg.

"mange tes mort" wich translates to "eat your dead (relatives)"

"vas te fair enculer" means "go get yourself pegged in the ass"

(yes, we have a specific word for being fucked in the ass 💀)

AND THOSE WOULD BE THE COMMON ONES AS WELL

English could never compare ✨

BUT ANYWAYS

how would the characters react if reader was from france/ belgium/ canada(or any other french speaking country) and started cursing people out like they eould do in their home countrie !?!?

The eay their face would drop

We would make a couple of people cry

AND GOD(us haha) FORBID A KID OVER-HEAR US AND STARTS REPEATING US

Trying to un-teach them would be hell *cries*

Your thoughts?

Love yaaaa~

ABSOLUTE TOP TIER ORAH MY BELOVED!!

Nobody has any idea how much I HATE ENGLISH both for its rules/pronounciation BS/etc. But also, most importantly, THERES LIKE NO GOOD CUSS WORDS- OR LIKE CUSS PHRASES??

I HAD TO PUT THIS GIF BC THAT WAS LITERALLY ME WHEN I HAD THE REALIZATION TO LOOK UP OTHER LANGUAGE CUSS WORDS AND I WAS JUST BLOWN AWAY BY HOW GOOD THEY WERE- HOW CREATIVE- 😫😭🥲 ENGLISH WHY R U SO SHITY IN EVERY POSSIBLE LANGUAGE SITUATION-

like idk we got "eat shit and die / fuck off / go fuck yourself" ???? Like- thats pathetic 😟.

I love hearing someone just cuss smbody out their native language/non-english, it’s so badass and cool to see

Anyway u already know i love non-native english speakers from the bottom of my heart✨️

GOD I FUCKING LOVE BLUNT LANGUAGE AU ITS LIKE ONE OF TOP FAV AS U CAN PROBABLY GUESS I COULD WRITE A LITERAL FANFIC ENTIRELY OFF THIS SIMPLE PREMISE 💖💓💗💞❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

omg so i HAVE SPECIFICALLY HEARD ABT FRENCH BEING RLLY CREATIVEEE

and i researched french cusswords/phrases,,,

😭 BRO IM CRYING

“bête comme ses pieds!” IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR-

(trans: you’re as stupid AS YOUR FEEEEEETT)

idk what’s funnier, you translating urself in real time and saying all these phrases to ppl,

OR just scaring the ever-loving shit out of every teyvat citizen within a mile radius bc oh wow- you look pissed, so yeah somebody’s about to lose all their self-esteem for the rest of their life bc ur insults are known to be extra cutting bc ur so blunt-

OH CREATOR ABOVE (…oh creator, present??)- you changed to your holy language FOR THIS???

everybody just giving the npc the most bombastic side-eye for pushing you to do this,

or even just you stubbing ur toe/ate food when it was too hot

or my favorite, getting onto ppl like Wanderer when they do smth silly lmao

STOP I HAD A FOUL THOUGHT OF GETTING ONTO Ei AND WANDERER (like ei for not keeping him/at least giving him to someone else to raise, then all the shit he did as Scaramouche lol)

AND THIS CUSSWORD COMES OUT UNDER UR BREATH OR SMTH- DOES THIS FIT BC THIS KILLS ME:

“Putain de salope…” (whore of whore, I LIED IT MEANS FUCKING BITCH LMAO😭)

JUST GETTING THE MOM AND THE SON IN ONE FULL BREATH CRYINGGGG

STOPPP wanderer using it against other ppl ever since u used it lol

oh no stop dont bring the kids into thisss 😭😭

Klee would deffo be the first one to pick up ur words and use them, omg she just uses them as catchphrases like when throwing her bombs 💀

“Mange tes mort!” JUST WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE AS SHE THROWS HER HUGE SKILL BOMB INTO A FISH POND

Venti would definitely make sure the winds “pass along phrases of the sacred All-God language!”

which just means anyone who UNDERSTANDS YOU JUST GETS GENTLY CREATIVELY CUSSED OUT BY THE WIND IM SOBBINGGG

☆

i hope u guys are having a great summer! its basically too hot to go outside where I am, not unless ur going straight into the water or smth

which hey, ill be doing that this weekend, floating down the river about an hour away from my house with friends! :]

which,,, if anyone sees this, U GOTTA HELP ME THINK OF A 1000 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE THING TO DO IDK WHAT TO DO BUT I WANNA CELEBRATE IT BC I NEVER THOUGHT THATD HAPPEN!! lmk what u think in the comments if u read this!

☆

Safe Travels 0rah,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[sirdindjarin]

The Savior - Din Djarin x f!Reader

The Mandalorian, side-quest extraordinaire, accidentally frees a slave, kills a Senator's son, ends a criminal conspiracy, and falls in love. Just a month in the life of the galaxy's favorite chaotic space cowboy and his son.

The Savior / The Concession / The Choice (END)

A/N: i fucking love this man. here's the spotify playlist i made while hallucinating being wrecked by him. I accidentally based this fic on Euphoria by Angels & Airwaves.

AO3 Link🤠

TAGS: Fluff, m!falls first, plot with porn, helmet stays on for now, P in V, outdoor activities, protective!Din, soft-ish!Din.

WARNINGS: reader is/was a slave; references to abuse; no curses or slang outside of Star Wars canon (that's a warning if you hate that hahaha)

**************************************************************

"I thought vagrants were barred at the door. How did a Mandalorian get in here?”

The Mandalorian in question does not react to the insult. At the table before him, the taunting Trandoshan guffaws, but his laughter dies when he gets no reaction from the bounty hunter.

"What do you want?" He snaps, his green jaws clicking shut.

Instead of replying, certain the answer is obvious, the beskar-covered man leisurely surveys the colorful, boisterous room, his hands folded in front of him. Having already scouted the upscale casino, he does this for sarcastic effect. He’s also certain that fact is lost on his Trandoshan quarry. 

Upon returning his direct attention to the lizard, a small movement in the booth catches his heat sensor. A young woman, likely his quarry’s slave by her frayed appearance, sits with her head bowed behind her master. 

“Hey, tin man, you in there?” Your master’s voice sounds more like rocks scraping together than fluid language.

The Mandalorian chucks a bounty puck onto the table, the name and alien visage of Rathos Craaf glowing in a blue cone of projected light.

“Go quietly or don’t - it makes no difference to me.” 

“Ahh,” Rathos Craaf hums in his throat and leans back in his seat, making your demure form more visible to the bounty hunter. “What’s the price?”

The Mandalorian again does not dignify a response. 

“Can’t be greater than what I’m willing to pay,” Rathos insinuates. 

The tense silence eats through your body as the ruthless men stare at each other - the probability of oncoming violence ratcheting up.

“Go prepare my ship,” your master barks suddenly at you, raising his hand.

Flinching, you scoot around the U-shaped booth to obey. 

You weren’t always a slave. As a child on Kenari, you had been born into a world of vivid green, rippling blue, and rich, brown soil. Trained in both hunting and fighting from birth, you had been too young to save your village from the brutal relocation program of the Empire. 

Dispersed onto harsher worlds, you’d been sold from one slaver to another until finally coming into the collection of one Rathos Craaf. He has been your master for several years by this point, and while not the worst, he was close. 

“What will you do about the girl?” A modulated voice asks.

Pausing on the edge of the hard bench, you look between the two antagonists. Me?

“Who cares about the mudscuffing girl? Tell you what, I’ll sell her to you.” The crafty Trandoshan gets an even better idea: “Or - take her in exchange for the bounty. She’s considered top-tier sentient property.” 

“Not what I was asking,” a gloved hand thumbs his blaster. “Once you’re in carbonite, wh-”

The Trandoshan lunges up from his seat with a booming yell, launching at the cloaked, beskar-free neck of the Mandalorian. Rathos’ claws reach around the smaller man’s throat, but the Mandalorian is lighter of foot, ducking out of the hold. 

Off-balance, Rathos tumbles but rolls back on his feet, his scaly tail acting as a counterweight. Gasps and mutters spill from the crowd as people scramble out of harm’s way.

You remain seated in the booth, frozen and unsure. But then, as the silver bounty hunter aims his blaster, Rathos whips his tail into the Mandalorian’s legs, knocking him with a clang onto his back. 

The blaster goes skittering through the crowd, and you’re shocked to find your legs racing after it. 

The thunder of a powerful flame roars in the cavernous room as you weave through aliens and humans alike, searching. The blackness of the blaster appears on the gray floor and you dive for it. 

Cold steel excites your skin. It’s heavier than you thought it would be, and though you’ve never fired one, your ancient muscle memory remembers the feeling of a bow in your hands; the trajectory, strength, and steadiness necessary. 

Sprinting back through the crowd, you find Rathos pinning the Mandalorian’s chest. The solid armor prevents any of Rathos’ blows from truly hurting the bounty hunter, but the weight of the lizard is too awkward and great for him to shove away from this angle. 

The fire-throwing vambrace comes up again and, as it billows into the Trandoshan’s face, you fire a blast at the substantial tail that had once been used against you. 

Rathos bellows in pain, tumbling to the side, and the Mandalorian takes full advantage. He jumps to his feet, then connects his fist to his quarry's skull, rendering the creature unconscious. Binders clasp around the arms of your master and the successful bounty hunter staggers backward a single step to catch his breath. 

You freeze at what you’ve just done, the blaster still pointed at Rathos. People murmur, and the words, “Killed by his slave” can be heard, though he is only unconscious. Your chest heaves, far more out of breath than the Mandalorian walking toward you.

“Thank you,” he says drily, taking his blaster out of your hands. 

Unsure what else you should do, you follow your master as he is dragged without dignity along the smooth fogstone floor. 

Exiting the casino, snaking down an alley, and traipsing to the outskirts of the city limits, the silhouette of a ship against the orange horizon becomes visible. 

Neither you nor the Mandalorian have spoken a single word since he took the blaster from your hands, but as he presses a button on his vambrace to lower the loading ramp, he turns to you now.

“Grab his tail." 

An order. That you could do. You immediately grab Rathos’ tail and lift. The Mandalorian half-drags and half-lifts the Trandoshan by his cuffed hands and the lizard is loaded into the ship’s hold. 

Standing at the far end of the Mandalorian’s rather busted ship, you’re surprised to see a small, green being. Dressed in what must be a sack, its long ears perk up and its eyes glimmer at the sight of the bounty hunter. A happy coo reverberates in the quiet, metal space. 

The child looks at you and makes another, similar noise. It waddles toward you, but before you can react, the Mandalorian scoops the child into his arms and sequesters it behind a thin blast door. 

“You are free to go.” 

It’s an odd statement. He must be familiar with the underworld. He knows how slaving works.

You’re not sure when you last spoke; you weren’t allowed to speak. But the bounty hunter seems to expect a reply. 

“I am not. The law says I am to be returned to the slavers’ coalition for repurchase.” Your voice is scratchy from disuse and the helmeted man tilts his head in curiosity. 

“You won't run?”

It seems too monumental a task. Hopes and fears trip over each other in their efforts to be heard. Freedom. Finding a place to call home. Your family was long dead. But… maybe there was hope of a family somewhere.

Where would I even go? No way I could stay ahead of the slavers. They’d send hunters like this Mandalorian after me. I’d be worse off than I am now.

“I do not know if I can,” you whisper honestly. 

The Mandalorian looks at you - at least, you think he does - for so long that you begin to squirm under his gaze.

Without warning, the wind is knocked from you. Rathos’ tail slams into the back of your knees, crumpling you to the floor. His claws wrap around your neck, and you yell, plunging two fingers into his lidless eye.

“Traitorous shutta!” Spittle from your master flies onto your cheeks.

As he recoils from your jab, you squirm underneath him, trying to flee, when the weight on your chest vanishes in a rush of air. Coughing and wiping your face, you lie there momentarily until your throbbing pulse abates inside your head. You sit up and widen your eyes to hasten their focus.

The Mandalorian has the Trandoshan by the throat with both hands. Rathos sputters and gags, but you watch as gloved fingers dig harder into the scaly throat. The anonymous man shoves his quarry into the carbon freezing chamber and smashes the button with more force than necessary. 

It's over. 

When you woke in the dark that morning, never would you have expected to watch your master be frozen in carbonite aboard a bounty hunter's ship.

That bounty hunter turns to you now. 

“I have something I need to do. I’ll give you passage if you provide assistance.” 

________________________________

Crossing your arms, tucking your legs under your body, and leaning against the hull in your seat, you try to make yourself as small as possible. You wouldn’t have even climbed up here if the Mandalorian hadn’t indicated that you should.

He wanted to keep an eye on you. He did not trust you around the kid - despite (or perhaps because of) its interest in you. 

Moments after leaving the planet’s atmosphere, a new emotion bubbles in your chest: elation. The stars flow by in a technicolor kaleidoscope; hues and shapes you have never seen race past your eyes. It’s beyond anything you could have imagined. 

“Has it always looked like this?” You wonder to yourself.

You jump when a deep, electronic voice answers, “Yes.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, realizing he had been watching you. “I’ve never seen hyperspace. I was kept in the hold,” you state without self-pity.

The Mandalorian lets that terrible fact hang in the air before eventually saying,“I recommend you get some sleep. It will be several hours before we reach Mid Rim.” 

He turns away from you and folds his arms. The muffled clang of his helmet tipping back against the headrest tells you that he will be taking his own advice.

Interestingly, you feel safe enough to get some rest. Being constantly attuned to the temperamental wills and whims of others, you've become a great judge of character. 

This Mandalorian, though quiet, is clearly capable of kindness to those who deserve it. A rarity for someone in his profession. 

___________________________________

The blue cone glows in his hand, projecting the face of one ugly slug. The name at the bottom, written in a language you had been forced to learn, reads: Salaa the Hutt.

Fearful eyes flick up to the veiled Mandalorian, “A Hutt?”

The helmet nods, “You will be my way in.” You make a whimpering noise, but the bounty hunter continues. “You’re a slave on the run. I will be returning you for a small reward.”

Crushing disappointment deflates your body. Believing yourself to have been wavering between freedom and the life you had known, you realize, now that the decision was being made for you, that you’d chosen freedom. Further adding to your pain is your misjudgement of the Mandalorian. 

I’d have never made it to freedom - far too naive. Thought a karking bounty hunter was doing something out of the kindness of his heart. Unbelievable.

Still, to your credit, you take several steps back, almost as though you might try to outrun the nimble, strong bounty hunter with a kriffing jetpack, of all things. You’re proud of yourself for even thinking about doing it.

The Mandalorian doesn’t react. He pockets the puck and opens his weapons cache on the hull wall. He lifts a small item from the assortment and shuts the doors. You can’t see what it is, and he doesn’t return to you. 

He opens the blast door to the child’s tiny room. The baby snores in his bungalow, and the ever-fascinating Mandalorian rubs the green, fuzzy head before closing the door. He turns and strides toward you.

You take one more step backward, just because you can. Because you should.

He still says nothing. Closer, and closer, the armored man advances on you until you can see your nervous eyes in his breastplate.

“Give me your wrists.” 

Is his voice naturally that persuasive or is it the vocoder?

Overriding your fledgling autonomy, you obey him with a preprogrammed respectful nod. He clasps binders around your wrists.

The Mandalorian steps away to retrieve another weapon, then he lifts his chin toward the boarding ramp. 

Shouldn't you at least try to gain freedom? Beg him to let you go? 

“Please, I can try to pay you,” this is a lie and he knows it. “Or I could work off the debt of transport. Something!”

It’s the loudest your voice has been in living memory, and it both surprises and emboldens you. But the Mandalorian does not seem swayed. 

“Walk,” he orders.

You minutely shake your head twice. It means nothing to him, but everything to you. 

An electronic sigh, then he takes a single step toward you. Fear switches you back into the subservient girl of the last twenty years. You flinch, your manacled hands blocking your face. 

The Mandalorian falters, slightly abashed. “I am not going to hurt you. But you need to start walking.” 

Slowly, you lower your hands. His gloved fingers curl around your bicep, and he leads you out into the sunny air.

It’s a hot day on Niamos. The beachside resort that serves as the capital city is teeming with families of all species bathing in the muggy air. The sandstone path that Mando - that’s what everyone calls them, right? - parades you down is packed with beachgoers. Embarrassed by your plight, you try to hide the binders, but it’s impossible with the angle he holds your arm. 

Finding another gust of will, you reason, “Surely you could find a way inside without turning me in? You’re good at your job. You could've killed my m-”

“Salaa angered powerful people. There is a bounty on him and it’s higher if he’s dead.

“What does that mean?”

“He's careful. Employs expensive security. Easiest way in is through the front door,” Mando finishes. 

Mando’s leathery hold on your arm is soft. Unyielding, of course, but he doesn’t hurt you. It saddens you to realize how different that is from your usual treatment. He had still binded you and planned on turning you in, but hey! At least he wasn’t going to leave a bruise.

Directing you down a narrow alley, the Mandalorian stops in front of a tan-colored, generic shield door. He raps twice on it, standing casually still. If he feels you shaking, he says nothing about it.

A Yaka man is standing behind the door when it opens with a whoosh. His metal implants reflect the sun and you squint. Behind him are another two Yaka and a particularly menacing-looking Zabrak, all armed with pulse rifles. 

“We ain't buyin'," he slurs.

“I'm here to claim the slave reward.” 

The Yaka stares at the impenetrable, T-shaped slit in the silver helmet, scrutinizing, before stepping aside. Mando guides you ahead of him, then you hear the spur-like sound of his step over the threshold. The close quarters are sweltering, and sweat beads on your temple.

“This way,” the Yaka servant veers to the right and up a steeply inclined hallway. The other members of the security team follow behind you.

The Mandalorian’s thumb slides over your skin. You would give it more thought if a wide, dingy room wasn’t quickly coming into view. 

On the second floor, a muted, sparsely furnished area overlooks the residence across the street, and the beach beyond. However, you can’t see the view because the balcony is being taken up by a massive, blob-like shape, and a tall, spiky silhouette.

“Ahh,” the huge shape speaks, and for the first time in your life, you’re thankful you speak Huttese. “What is this?” 

Bowing, the Yaka guard explains, “This Mandalorian has returned a loose slave.” 

He grabs for your arm, but you lurch when Mando pulls you out of reach, warning, “Careful. She killed her master before fleeing." 

The bodyguard recoils as though you personally threatened him. He steps away, waiting for actual instruction from his boss. The green Rodian next to Salaa tuts in his sour voice.

Deciding it was best not to speak, you raise your chin with dignity as Mando drops his hand from your arm.

“Why do you return her here?” Salaa the Hutt inquires. “Surely you know that I have been removed from my associations. Including the slavers.”

“I am here for information,” Mando drops the ruse completely, his voice calm.

“Information,” the Hutt laughs horribly. “I have much of that, pateesa. What do you wish to know?”

“You should ask what I have to trade first.”

“Hmm. You do not wish to trade the girl, I hope. Must be better than that,” the slimy giant slug laughs derisively.

You don’t even bristle. Worse things had been said to you daily. 

The green, mohawked Rodian chuckles. Though you do not understand his language, the human bounty hunter does: “She is too sad-looking to be any fun. Pity.” The reptilian-looking male then makes a vile comment about what he can see through your ratty, loose clothing.

The Mandalorian's eyes narrow, and his right hand drifts toward his hip of its own accord.

“Make your offer, Mandalorian.”

“If you provide the information I need, I won’t claim the ten-thousand-credit bounty on your head.”

That horrible, bulging laugh bursts from the ex-crime boss once more, hurting your ears in its pitch and volume. 

“Far too aggressive, Mandalorian. I decline.”

Salaa’s stubby arm motions at the armed security who raise their rifles at the two of you. 

While you freeze in terror, the Mandalorian stills in focus. Faster than a hyperdrive, he clenches his fist. Miniature rockets whistle through the tense air, eliminating all three bodyguards; the angry Zabrak, the mouthy Rodian, and the blubbery Salaa remain.

The Mandalorian draws his blaster, pushing you behind him, and fires from his hip as the Zabrak guard begins to raise his modified arm. What type of weapon it held, you’ll never know because he falls to the ground, dead, before he can use it.

The Rodian darts away from Salaa, circling the room. To you, it seems as though he is intending to flee, not fight, but the Mandalorian fires a laserblast at his bug-eyed head, dropping him.

Mando calmly swivels his blaster to Salaa. 

Resigned, the Hutt slimily states, “Ask what you wish to know, pateesa.”

“I have been told that you have seen another Mandalorian. Where?”

“Ahh, that is all? I have seen one here.”

“On Niamos?” So surprised, Mando forgets to keep the tone from his voice.

“A beskar-covered man does not go unnoticed on a planet filled with water-bathers,” Salaa laughs again. You visibly wince.

“Where?” 

“Where else? Water’s Edge.” 

Mando twists his head toward the opposite window as if he could see his fellow Mandalorian from here. He holsters his weapon and turns to leave. 

“Those Yaka were expensive guards, pateesa,” the Hutt grumbles ominously.

“You paid too much.”

He returns his hold on your arm, pushing you forward. Marching awkwardly down the sloping halfway, you try to make sense of his actions.

Your face screws up in confusion, “You didn’t turn me in or claim the Hutt’s bounty. You're earning no credits.”

That’s the defining feature of a bounty hunter.

The silence lengthens as you reach the ground floor, and hurriedly exit the sandstone building. As you soak in the blistering sunshine, the hand on your arm turns you to face him. The Mandalorian’s quick fingers remove your binders. 

“That’s it?” You rub your wrists even though he had left them on the loosest setting.

“Passage for assistance,” he reminds you. 

He then nods once and takes his leave. For an interminable length of time, you watch as he calmly walks away, breaking only when he turns down an alley and is lost from sight.

 What the hell do I do now?

__________________________________

The new day is growing late. Din Djarin basks in the heat of the single sun. For being one of those odd planets without plural light sources, the strength of the lone sun is incredible. Din much preferred the scorching, arid planets to the ice-covered ones, and Niamos is perfect. The breeze gently carries through his light flight suit, while the sun warms whatever dark material is visible around the beskar. 

While Din feels more comfortable in this climate, heat signatures can be a little bit more difficult to read. He had managed to track a faint heat signature around Water’s Edge. The day before, immediately after speaking with Salaa, Din had come to check the place out, but his quarry had left some hours previously and he had lost the trail.

Din enters the establishment for the second time in as many days. Inside is a large, open floor with dining tables set out across the expanse. High society clinks glasses as they wait for the next act to grace the small stage. Din surveys the room, switching between heat sensors and normal vision, before concluding that the Mandalorian he searches for is beyond the far wall. 

Heads turn and stare as Din, strutting as if he belongs, makes his way to the unobtrusive doorway next to the stage. A Mandalorian stands out here. This was a place for people who employed bounty hunters, not those whom they hunt. Din slides the door open, and he is greeted by a dark hallway.

Light spills from a room to his right. Din flips on his heat sensor again, and presses his lips together in satisfaction when the heat signature picks up.

Rounding into the room with confidence, Din observes everything at once.

A large mirror, complete with lights, sits above a desk. A rack of clothing stands lonely in the far corner. And on a stool in front of the mirror sits a Mandalorian, their flaky, blue-painted armor having seen better days.

“My name is Din Djarin,” he announces. “I have been tasked with finding other Mandalorians in order t-” 

“Oh, my stars!” The Mandalorian squeals. The helmet is removed by purple hands, and a humanoid species stares in awe. “I’ve always wanted to meet a Mandalorian. I- I do this character because I just love your culture so much.” 

Blinking behind his helm, Din confirms what he's already becoming sure of, “That armor you wear - it is not real beskar.”

“What? This stuff?” The actor scoffs. “This is expensive paint and cheap wetboard.” He stands up, advancing unwisely on the real Mandalorian. “Can I ask you some questions? I’ve got a real opportunity here to elevate my perfor-” 

Din backs out of the room in a single, fluid motion, punching the button for the door. 

He sighs.

***

A blaster shot turns the corner of the building Din had just walked past into dust and debris. He spins, drawing his own blaster, expecting to see the Empire itself. Instead, a young human bounty hunter stands there, nervously fumbling with her jammed blaster. The Mandalorian rushes her, pinning her by the collarbone against the alley wall. 

"Bounty?”

Terrified, she nods and whispers, “Yes.” 

"Who contracted it?" 

She wheezes from under Din’s forearm, “Don't know. It's open Rim-wide for now. Just told to kill you and the girl.”

Under his helm, Din’s brow pinches. “The girl?”

The wide-eyed woman shrugs, again in the dark. If this inexperienced bounty hunter managed to track him down already, it's likely another has found you. Din releases the woman roughly and rockets up into the sky.

_______________________________

The sights and sounds of the beach are incredible. The late-daylight is deliciously warm as it touches your skin through the holes in your clothing. You sit on the top step of the tiered beach area, staring out at the water as you try to come up with a plan of action. Having slept on a lounge chair last night, you’re nearly grateful for the decades of poor lodging training your body. 

The sky is hazy, but the flash of sunlight glinting off of something tiny flying far above has you twisting your head and squinting. Unable to make out the object, you return your attention to the ocean and ignore it. 

From behind you, a voice calls your name and you automatically turn.

As you stare down the barrel of the blaster pointed at you, you remember no one should know your name here.

"Let's go," the bounty hunter tells you.

It's a woman with red skin and long, blue, braided hair. Etches in her cheeks make her bone structure look even sharper. 

You frown. What you’d told the Mandalorian had already been proven correct. You weren't able to run. 

Resignedly standing to your feet, you take a step, but go stumbling forward as the woman kicks your back.

Your second foreign emotion of the last twenty-four hours sparks in your chest, glowing as hot as the sun above. 

"Hey! I was going," you glare.

"Move faster, scum," she orders. 

You continue walking, your eyes scanning for something, anything, to get you out of this.

Ahead on the right is a large crowd of vendors and their customers. If you can duck through them, maybe you can lose the blue-haired madwoman behind you. 

A cold, circular shape presses between your shoulder blades as you march, and your bravery starts to fail. If you make a single wrong move, you'll be shot before you even get to the crowd. 

Just do it - better to die now than live as a slave.

The crowd swells as a school trip pours out from a nearby museum. Your confidence rises at the sight of the increasingly busy, confusing horde.

Closer. So kriffing close.

The female bounty hunter cries out suddenly as a blaster shot scalds her arm. She defensively spins, kicking out powerfully behind her.

A large species you're unfamiliar with, tall and teal, is thrown sideways with the force of the kick. The competing bounty hunter recovers into a crouch and shoots at your captor, hitting her in the chest.

With a violent exhale, she falls. Too busy sprinting into the crowd, you do not hear her final, pathetic breath. 

Weaving, keeping ducked and hidden, you whisper a constant stream of 'excuse me.' You don't want to push anyone, knowing a reaction from an offended beach-goer could give away your position. 

The unblinking bounty hunter, your newest enemy, stands tall above much of the crowd, and it doesn't take him long to spot your trail. 

Thundering forward, happily shoving people you had so politely passed, he roars. Fear ices your stomach.

The sound of a sputtering jetpack drowns out the noise of the people. Never breaking stride, you search for the source of another bounty hunter. 

I know I’m a runaway slave who assaulted her master before turning him into a carbonsicle but, banthashit, is the price on my head really that high?

The massive hunter gains on you, and just as you clear the other side of the crowd, you gasp, pained, when he snatches your hair. You whirl, packing all of your strength into your right fist. Your blow lands on the creature’s lower jaw, which seems to be two pink tubes, and it wails grotesquely. 

The grip on your hair loosens and you rip away, but the much larger creature lunges for you again. It pulls you upward by your shirt this time, and you scream. Kicking out, your foot knocks a breath from the ugly bounty hunter, but it does not release you.

Staring at you with shallow black eyes, it speaks in a language you don’t understand, but the intonation is clearly a question. 

Gasping, you boldly say, “Let go of me and I’ll tell you.” 

The creature seems to understand Basic because his three-fingered hand leaves your shirt. 

Before you get a chance to make up a lie, the hulking bounty hunter vanishes in a flash of silver. Your head snaps in the direction of travel, and a trail of exhaust follows. 

A hundred yards away, the jetpack flares out and the two fall to the ground in a tumble of fighting. A strangled laugh exits your mouth. 

From bigger fish to bigger fish. Eventually the biggest fish would win and come after you.

The sound of the ugly creature roaring ends abruptly with a choked grunt. You push your legs hard as you run. The doorway to a cantina catches your eye as an intoxicated human stumbles out, and you rush past him. 

Inside the dark, clamorous, smoky business, you slide into the booth furthest from the door, hoping that neither hunter saw you duck in. Panting heavily, you tell the droid waitress you’d like a bit of spotchka. You’ve never had it, but you’ve seen how relaxed and brave it makes people and that sounds wonderful right about now.

The circular cantina door slides open and the silhouette of a tall, broad Mandalorian is outlined by the glaring sun. You can’t tell what color or condition his armor is in, but your stomach clenches all the same. It had been an entire revolution of the planet since your Mandalorian had left, so it can't be him.

Wonder if he found his friend, you think about his ten-thousand-credit question for the Hutt. Must’ve been quite a reunion if it was worth that much. 

Shrinking back against the wall of your booth, you shift completely out of sight and pray to whatever Ancient is listening that the stories about their helmets’ capabilities are exaggerations. 

The droid waitress sets your pretty blue drink on the table without comment, for which you’re grateful. You don’t think your voice works.

Clinking metal is audible despite the volume of the rowdy bar. The sound gradually grows louder as he approaches your booth.

“What are you doing?” The Mandalorian has his hands on his hips, and though you cannot see his face, you’re certain he looks like a disapproving parent.

“I- what?” You squeak, completely confused by his question. And why he's here.

He moves to sit down across from you, and your nerves flare.

“Why are you still here?” He asks the same question you want to ask him.

“Where was I supposed to go? I have no credits.”

“There is work available on this planet.” 

You pause, unhappy to give away just how out of your depth you are, “You mean paid employment? I’m not familiar with the process."

The Mandalorian doesn’t speak, he simply stares at you until you break your stare first. 

Looking down at the grimy table, you trace a piece of graffiti with your finger and whisper, “Thank you.” 

Mando shifts his head in askance.

“For saving me from the slave hunter.”

“He wasn’t a slave hunter.” Mando’s helmet tips down to where the bright blue liquid sits on the table. “You going to drink that?” 

You shake your head, too self-conscious now. 

“Good.”

He slides out from the booth and motions for you to walk ahead of him. 

________________________________

Standing in the bay of the Mandalorian’s ship once more, you engage in a staring contest with the little green baby as it sits on the floor. Its ears move like he’s listening to Mando speak on his holocall above in the cockpit, but its eyes remain on you.

You’ve always liked children. While they could be blunt, they were kind to you and other slaves because they hadn’t yet learned any differently. 

“How old are you?” You ask softly.

In your experience, children prefer to be spoken to as one would an adult, so you refrain from the baby-voice that springs to the surface when you look at the adorable infant. 

He tilts his ears toward you. 

“You’re pretty cute." The baby coos, then babbles once.

“You really are cute. And you seem highly intelligent. Have you been with the Mandalorian long? He seems to pick up strays easily,” you smile warmly. 

The child awkwardly gets to its feet, toddling toward you. Remembering how quickly Mando had taken the child away when it last interacted with you, you slowly move backward toward the ladder. You don’t know if it's dangerous. Maybe the cuteness is a front.

A gurgling noise, as if it’s trying to tell you something, breaks from its little mouth. He raises his hand, pointing, and you whirl.

The Mandalorian is but a few feet away, watching. 

How the kark did he get down the ladder so quietly?

“I’m sorry,” you don’t know what you’re apologizing for. 

Mando strides around you and crouches to pick up the baby, “We're leaving this planet. I won't have enough fuel to get across the galaxy, but there is a job a few systems over."

He cradles the child so gently that it makes your heart ache. 

Who is this guy?

The child in his arms makes grabby hands at his helmet, so he tenderly sets it back down. Mando heads back toward the cockpit, indicating you should follow. 

Up the ladder, sitting once again in the same seat, you keep your eyes on the Mandalorian as he begins the lengthy takeoff procedures. 

“The bounty hunter you encountered was not after the slave reward.”

“But she knew my name?” 

“I am referring to the Aqualish you punched.” 

“Oh.”

The Mandalorian does not immediately continue, focusing on his tasks for several minutes. 

“There is a reward out for you,” he flips another switch. “And a bounty.” 

“Both? Why both?” 

“The bounty is secondary. Dependant on you giving them m-”

A panicked, childish cry echoes from below, and you’re only a moment behind the Mandalorian as he leaps down the hatch to the hold.

You gasp in horror as you see the long-eared, big-eyed baby squished in the crook of another kriffing bounty hunter’s arm. The loading ramp closes slowly behind him. He must’ve jumped in at the last moment.

Mando raises his hands, indicating his desire to negotiate. 

“Do not hurt him,” he says. Instead of coming out as a plea, his vocoded words come out as a warning that makes your hair stand on end. 

“Din Djarin, you are wanted for the murder of Senator Nesota’s son. I know your reputation, and therefore do not wish to fight. I’ll release your… this," he nods at the green baby, "when you’re in carbonite. There,” the human bounty hunter nods his head at Din’s own carbon freezer. 

He killed a Senator’s kid?

The child frowns, his ears drooping, and he focuses hard on the bounty hunter. His little hand curls, and the man’s ruddy face turns purple. His eyes grow red and glassy.

Din reacts quickly, drawing his blaster and firing at the hunter’s face. The man falls with a clattering thunk, and the child rolls away, unmoving. 

“No," you cry. "Is he alright?” You start toward the kid, fear in your voice. 

“He’s fine,” the Mandalorian replies, holding his palm up for you to stay back. He reverently lifts the unconscious kid. “He’s just asleep.” 

The Mandalorian - Din Djarin - murdered an important person’s child. And his own kid just choked someone without using its hands? I didn’t inhale spice, did I?

“You killed a kid?” 

Din believes you’re still thinking of the baby in his arms. “I said he’s sleeping.”

“A Senator’s son?”

“Oh. Yes, the Rodian with Salaa.” Din hadn’t known he was the son of a powerful person, but it wouldn’t have mattered. 

Relief floods you once again as your evaluation of the Mandalorian’s character remains intact. After seeing the way he cared for the little green one, how could you have believed he would harm any child? 

“Okay." You return to the wildest topic, "What just happened with your kid?”

Din sighs. This was getting more dangerous than negotiating with a Tusken. He places the kid in his hammock and shuts the door. 

Turning on you, he threatens, “Never speak of him outside this ship.”

“I- I wouldn’t,” you promise, surprised by the fierceness in his voice. 

Din is satisfied. He’d watched you speak to his ward earlier, and the kid seems to like you immensely. But he doesn't solely rely on the kid's opinion. 

The experienced, Mandalorian bounty hunter's own character assessment is top-notch, and he finds that he feels strongly about you. He doesn't categorize or identify the specifics, however.  

The Mandalorian does not ask for your help in removing the dead bounty hunter from his ship, so you look on in silence as he does it alone. He lowers the landing ramp, drags the body to the edge, and watches it roll down unceremoniously. He turns and stalks past you.

“So, where's that job?” 

“The Outer Rim.”

You sigh. “Of course it is.”

__________________________________

The planet blinds you when the Razor Crest launches out of hyperdrive. Brilliantly green, the single sun reflects the vibrant landscape right into your eyes. 

Shielding your face, you venture a question. The Mandalorian had not finished explaining.

"Why is there a bounty on me?" 

Even through the modulator, you can hear his dry tone: "You aided a bounty hunter in entering the Hutt's hideout through false pretenses which ended in the blasting of a Senator's son."

"Right," you frown, slumping in your seat. 

"Don't worry. The bounty on my head is far larger than yours."

You scoff under your breath. So reassuring.

A deep breath, then you postulate, "Is that what the bounty hunter was asking me? About you?" 

Din doesn't respond. He didn't hear the Aqualish's question. He was too busy aiming at its body with his own, but his best guess is yes. 

"That's the reason you saved me," you mutter, oddly dejected.

A loose end. That's what you are.

Din often - almost constantly, actually - appreciated his helmet for the freedom it gave him to show any emotion at any time. No need to worry about a convincing poker face when no one could see it.

"You could have told them where my ship was."

"Except I thought you'd flown away the day before," you argue, saddened that he thought you would’ve talked. 

Of course, he didn't know you, and he had a child to protect, but it still stings. 

"Why not just kill me?" You wonder seriously.

You're a liability. Two separate prices on your head? The Mandalorian's easiest solution is obvious. A slave of no importance, no one would put a bounty on his head for your death.

Din Djarin's armor clanks as he spins the chair a quarter-turn toward you and he cocks his head. 

"I don't want to die," you read his body language correctly. "But I don't understand you." 

The Mandalorian silently returns to his piloting duties as he nears the lush planet. He does his best to shut his thoughts away, but he stumbles over you again and again. 

Din had rescued you because he didn’t want to see you harmed for his actions with the Hutt. The idea of protecting himself from prying questions had been an afterthought. 

He had flown above the city, looking for your trail. Since you hadn’t moved much, there wasn’t much of a trail to find. Then he spotted the crowd roiling and parting for the violent Aqualish.

When he watched it yank your hair, he felt angry. An emotion he experienced less frequently than many of his friends would believe. Frustration, irritation, sure. But true fury was rare for him.

Not wanting you dead was basic decency, but the anger had been interesting.

On some level, Din knows his emotional responses to you deserve greater scrutiny. But he doesn't have the time nor the energy.

When the Razor Crest lands in a grassy clearing between forest walls, Din rises from his chair and commands, “Stay here. Watch the child.” 

“O-okay,” you agree hesitantly. “What do I do when he wakes up?”

The Mandalorian stares, uncomprehending. 

“You… you don’t do anything for his… condition?”

“I told you he’s fine.” Din thinks for a moment, and remembers there is actually something you should know: “When he wakes up, he might be hungry. Do not let him eat the metal ball on the thruster.”

With that, he climbs down the ladder, and out of sight.

_________________________________

As the fist flies at you, you subconsciously register that your assailant must be right-handed, because this left hook is much sloppier than the other. Or maybe it's because his left arm is still human.

Ducking, you escape the jab and slam your palm-sized stick into the quarry's metal shins. He doesn’t react except to kick your thigh. You cry out, knowing it will bruise if you survive this.

The blaster you had taken from the Mandalorian’s cache lies just out of reach. The silver gleam is stark against the rich soil of the forest floor.

Enraged, the cyborg quarry leaps at your hunched form, knocking you flat. Surprised by his speed, you forget to keep hold of the heavy branch you use as a weapon. 

The growling man rips the stick from your hands and slams it against your throat like a vise, choking you, “Die, wretch.”

You turn your head to the side, providing yourself with a precious moment of air before the quarry shifts to cut that escape route off, too. 

Swinging your leg up, you kick him in the back of the head, pushing him forward. You take the opportunity to headbutt him - thankful that his head is still completely human - and he falls sideways. Right next to your blaster. 

You snatch up your wooden weapon, but it's too late.

He laughs mechanically as he grabs the blaster, swinging it at you. “Too late, sweetheart.”

Panting, you don't raise your hands. If he's going to kill you, he'll do it when you charge him. 

You take a step and the sound of a laserblast ricochets through the trees. 

The creature cries out, dropping the weapon, his arm useless at his side. Wires spark from the elbow joint that had been blown away.

"Found you," the Mandalorian says flatly, his blaster pointed at the machine.

The metal man lunges but Din fires again - hitting the quarry in what should be its gut. It doubles over, groaning, then topples, fighting for labored breath. 

He must still have lungs underneath, you shudder.

Still trying to catch your own breath, you gasp, "How-" 

"Heard the fight. You were supposed to stay on the ship," his voice turns scolding.

Clenching your jaw, you finally find a steady breath. You had stayed on the ship. This piece of space junk had broken inside through the cockpit window.

As you sat in the hold, dutifully watching the kid, the sound of glass shattering alerted you that it was not Din who was back so soon. You had snatched up the baby, touching him for the first time with no concern about his potential dangers, locked him in the little room, and ripped a small blaster from the Razor Crest’s weapons cache. 

You crouched at the far end of the hold, against the closed boarding ramp, waiting, uncomfortably far from the child. 

A cyborg, more spidery-droid than man, with a human head and fleshy left arm had come skittering down, bypassing the ladder completely. Unwilling to chance a blaster shot going through the baby’s door, you hit the button on the landing ramp and scrambled out.

The forest. It was your home. Your element. If there was any chance you could kill it, to prove to yourself that you could survive this life - it was then and there.

Of course, you hadn't expected the quarry to get your blaster.

"I tried," you breathe as Din binds the still-groaning quarry. 

The helmet turns to face you, understanding. "He entered the ship?”

You nod, and Din stands bolt-upright, his head whipping in the direction of the Razor Crest.

“It’s fine,” you assure him pointedly, walking with your hand outstretched toward the worried Mandalorian. You remember your promise not to speak of the child, “Your ship is fine. Knew you'd hate it if he trashed the thing, so I ran out here.”

The Mandalorian visibly relaxes his broad shoulders, and your heart tugs once again. 

"Thank you," Din says with hidden feeling. 

His sincerity wedges a lump in your throat. 

He really loves that little guy.

Din turns and snatches the connector between the binders, pulling the quarry. Its metal feet dig trenches as it tries to stall, but the Mandalorian is far too strong.

Somehow, it's the first time you've truly noticed. Din is extremely strong. Is it the suit? 

Can't be. It's just metal and fabric. 

The realization might as well be a thunderbolt to your brain. Your assailant must weigh as much as a land speeder, and here your bounty hunter was carting him along like a sack of starfruit.

An unfamiliar feeling, something like hot, sharp sparks shoot through your stomach. Your eyes follow the Mandalorian as he makes his way back to the Razor Crest. 

Is this attraction? You’ve never experienced it. Far too busy surviving, wanting someone in that way is a foreign concept to you. You roll your eyes at yourself. Din Djarin, a kriffing Mandalorian bounty hunter is not going to look twice at a slave, and it's best to kill those feelings before they take root.

***

Across the large clearing, at the ship, the bounty hunter waits patiently while the boarding ramp lowers.

“She yours?” The quarry asks curiously, his voice wheezing. "You orbited me like a karking moon, but as soon as I go after her, you come runnin’.” It laughs. 

The cyborg doesn't expect a verbal answer; he wants a reaction.

Din turns his head slowly with a cold warning, “I would advise you to stop speaking.”

“I damaged her pretty good for you. Might wanna che-” his taunting words end in a pained grunt when Din slams his fist into the man’s cruel mouth. 

Surprised by the sudden violence, you inhale sharply. Din hadn’t knocked the thing unconscious, so what was the point of that? 

The Mandalorian hauls the creature up the ramp and shoves him into the carbon freezer. 

“Should’ve killed me,” the cyborg threatens with a laugh as he freezes into a solid mass.

Din turns to face you and asks in a low voice, “Are you injured?”

The rush of adrenaline you had been riding on slowly fades, and you remember the only blow you’d received had been the one to the side of your thigh. Your hand falls to it, feeling the area through your tattered pants. 

A small amount of blood comes away on your fingers. 

“Oh,” you murmur. 

You pull up the ripped, baggy material, exposing your entire leg. The skin had split with the force of the blow, but there’s no serious damage and it would heal on its own. 

The cyborg must’ve been trying to unnerve us. Or distract the Mandalorian? Maybe he thought Din would check right away, you almost laugh aloud at the ridiculous idea.

Din, for his part, really wishes you would let your pant leg fall. It’s insane, it makes no sense to him. Millions of people walked around in far, far less clothing than you, and Din never reacted like this. 

But here you stand before him, slowly checking out the inch-long cut on your mid-thigh, and the Mandalorian can’t tear his eyes away. 

When you look up at the helmet of Din Djarin, he fixes his face as though you could actually see the way his lips had parted. You fleetingly, timidly, smile at him and, miraculously, let go of the flowy pant leg. 

Released from the spell, Din exhales and makes his way to the child’s room. 

“You can use the refresher to clean that, if you’d like.” He does not look at you as he speaks. 

“Is the baby okay?” 

Din need not answer as the child himself murmurs in happiness at the sight of the two of you. To Din’s abject shock, the kid lifts his hands toward you. 

You laugh once, flattered. “Can I?” 

Din simply turns sideways so that you can fit between him and the hull wall. You reach for the child and it snuggles into your arms, touching your chin. 

A brilliant smile lights your face. 

“Are we friends now?” You whisper to him. 

The baby babbles a response you’ll take as an affirmative. 

“I’ve not asked. What’s his name?” You turn your still-smiling face up to Din. 

Again thanking the Mythosaur for his helmet, he stares, stuck on your glowing expression as you cradle his ward. His brown eyes swim with an emotion he’s never felt. 

“I don't know.” 

Taken aback, you realize that there is a far deeper story here.

Did he steal this baby?

You move on quickly, “What do you call him?”

Din shrugs. “Kid.”

The child makes a cooing sound, then reaches for the Mandalorian. You hand the baby to his stoic guardian, and your smile changes to a satisfied one. 

“He looks like he belongs there,” you laugh. Then your eyebrows pull together as you regret the too-comfortable comment.

He’s a bounty hunter, a killer, and he may or may not have stolen this fuzzy, long-eared infant. 

And you’re just a runaway slave. 

You back up a step, feeling awkward now. “You said I could use the ‘fresher?” 

Din simply nods his head in the direction of the tiny facility.

When you've shut the door, Din's body relaxes. 

                               ***

But not for long. He didn't account for the sound of your clothes hitting the floor and the sound of the sonics. You are steps away, unclothed, and some wild instinct inside him awakens. Ashamed, he sets the child back in the hammock and climbs up to the cockpit to relieve himself. 

_________________________________

The planet is purple. Dark and cloudy, the yellow, green, and blue street lights cast strange shadows. Neon signs of every shade flash from every corner. You've been to thousands of cities like this one. An underworld. 

The Mandalorian landed the Razor Crest on the outskirts despite there being a busy spaceport made for that purpose. He transported the carbonite body of the cyborg to the edge of the city where he was met by some anonymous creature in a cloak. He asked no questions. 

Din had entrusted you with the care of the child. He directed you and the kid to go on ahead to one of the less-reputable inns. The worse-looking, the better. People were more likely to mind their business. 

You've found the perfect one. Din wanted seedy, he was getting the seediest. After all, most of your tasks as a slave had been spent in this environment since your masters hated to be seen in them. 

But seedy didn't always mean crumbling and derelict.

Din, having tracked the child's chain code, returns later that night. His eyebrows rise at the size of the room.

"I said find an inconspicuous place to hide. You got the emperor's suite," he places his hands on his hips. 

There are technically three rooms: the main living space, complete with couch, table, and a space to prepare food; and two small bedrooms both on the same side of the building.

"It was their only available room. Trust me, this place is as disreputable as they come. And he didn't upcharge," you rise from the couch. "If that was what you were worried about. I… made a deal with the clerk." 

Din advances on you, "A deal?" His voice is tight.

"I didn’t involve you. I promise." 

The Mandalorian clenches his teeth. Anything involving you, involves him. 

"The kid?" 

You tilt your chin across the apartment and laugh, "He wanted the room with all the toys.” 

Din disappears into the room, and you chuckle at how long the child had been fascinated by the weird sculptures inside. 

A low, rasping voice travels from the open door, "Hey, kid. Missed you, too."

Your smile deepens and your heart swells with emotion toward the two of them. Though they are not your family, it's comforting to watch them be one.

The modulated voice sounds again with a short laugh, "She can't hear you. Do you want her?" 

You shake your head fondly, the kid had been babbling and reaching for you every time you set him down. 

After a significant pause, Din softly admits, "I agree. I like her, too."

Flushing with shame for eavesdropping, you move to the far side of the apartment, to another large window. 

Several minutes later, quiet footsteps get louder as Din leaves the child's room and closes the door.

"He tried to lift one of the sculptures," Din scoffs. 

You laugh, picturing the child peacefully sleeping after tiring himself with the effort. It wasn't the first time today. Growing serious, you turn to face the Mandalorian.

"He helped me today. Someone grabbed at me and he… did what he does." 

Din takes two huge strides toward you. "Did anyone see? What happened?" 

"No one saw. It was in a closed alley. I-" you pause in momentary reluctance, then remember who you're talking to. "I took care of it." 

You glance at the blaster on the table that Din had given you earlier that morning.

For the first time in a long time, Din's sigh is one of relief instead of irritation. 

"Thank you," he says. "Again."

You wave him off, "It was between a scumsucker and the kid. Wasn't exactly hard," you try to make light of it. 

Din shakes his head slightly. "I've seen you use a blaster. I'm glad the kid was there," he deadpans.

You exhale in feigned irritation, pleased by his playfulness.

He comes to stand next to you at the open window, and the peaceful silence is companionable. 

As the breeze flutters, you shiver noticeably and his torn, rough cape curls into your ankle. The Mandalorian turns his head to you and reads how low your heat signature is.

Din stalks back to the entryway where he had set down a cloth bag. He snatches it up and brings it over to you. 

"I hope they are acceptable."

Hands outstretched, you freeze as you realize you're being given a gift. You blink and look up, desperately trying to read a face you know you can't. 

"Um, I've never -" you whisper, needing to tell him why you look like you've been struck. "Never had someone give me something."

Inside his beskar armor, Din grimaces. Had he overstepped? It might get even worse when you see how personal the items are. 

He releases his hold on the bag and you open it, pulling out a pair of clothes. They're dark blue, and, while somewhat flowy like your current clothes, these do not have holes, stains, nor bad memories associated. 

And they are a gift from Din Djarin. 

How do you thank him for these? They certainly weren't cheap. The clothing is sturdy but light, beautiful but practical. 

Embarrassingly, tears collect in your eyes.

"Oh, wow," you look up at him, panicking. "I can't take these." It was too much.

Din has an excuse in his arsenal.

"Take it as payment for your help with the kid."

You look back down at the material in your hands, rubbing the soft fabric. 

"Thank you, Din. Really. I- I don't know how to thank you. You have been so kind to me." 

His cheek pulls upward when you say his name for the first time. How sweet it sounds in your mouth. 

"You needed them. These," he waves at the shredded scraps on your frame, "are no longer clothes."

You smile timidly, unused to being treated so well. "I'm going to go take them off and burn them." 

The Mandalorian taps his vambrace. "I have the means when you're ready."

"Thank you again," you murmur, escaping to the refresher.

Din steps to the center of the room and places a hologram disk on the low table.

While you're busy, he's going to figure out how to get out of this.

***

After an actual shower, real water loosening the knots in your muscles, you exhale in pleasure at the feeling of the clean, well-made clothing on your skin. You feel like a person.

It's similar to seeing hyperspace for the first time. It scares you with how good it feels, knowing you’ve missed out on so much. 

You slide open the refresher door to see Din seated on the couch, facing away from you. He sits reclined, his legs spread wide. The Mandalorian hears the door open, but he does not turn. 

Stomach growling, you head to the cold storage near the front door. The box of food you'd bought from a vendor sits on the countertop. You unpack it carefully, still in disbelief you can eat whatever you want.

"Are you hungry?" You call to the Mandalorian as you continue to pull items from the box. 

"You are no longer a slave. You do not have to serve me." The deep, rough voice sounds from right behind you, and you jump in surprise. 

"Dank farrik, you move quietly." 

Din reaches around you for one of the fruits you had purchased with his credits. His nearness has your body tensing, but he backs away almost immediately.

"How do you eat with that on?" You wonder, clearly meaning his helmet.

"I don't," he answers, walking into the other bedroom. 

                          ***

A week passes in that calm hotel apartment. The child provided more than enough entertainment for you, attempting to lift different objects of his desire at random. 

For Din, so used to the child's antics, you are the object of his attention. You brush it off when he stands near you at the window, when he ensures that you have something to eat, and when he silently takes the couch over the comfortable bed. 

But you're unable to ignore his touch.

Just after you wake, the dual suns begin to peek around the tall city buildings. Trying not to wake Din on the couch, you tiptoe to the window in the main room, still enthralled with the city view. You’ve seen cities thousands of times throughout your enslavement, often imagining running away to explore. Now that you have the opportunity, you find that you don’t want to go.

Seated on the bare floor, your arms wrapped around your knees as you watch the suns rise, you're wandering down halls of your own thoughts when a voice drifts into your consciousness.

"I will get your bounty lifted." 

Turning your head, Din leans forward on the couch, his forearms on his knees. 

"If that's what you are concerned about."

You shake your head, "I'm not concerned. I think I'm happy." 

You had just come to that conclusion a moment earlier. It's an emotion you don't remember feeling. It's like your lungs are expanding after twenty years of suffocation. 

You look back at the city and smile contentedly, "This is the best my life has been." 

The admission is extremely personal, but you can’t keep it to yourself. It’s liberating. You weren't ready to fight for your freedom when the Mandalorian came for your master, but you are now. 

Din’s footsteps advance on you until he’s standing off to your right. He says nothing. 

After an interminable length of time, wondering what he’s doing, you twist and look up at him. His helmet turns toward the window just as you face him. 

His hands are folded behind him, but a sliver of something flesh-toned is visible. 

Is that his wrist? 

Your stomach drops. His bare skin. It looks warm-toned and soft. You close your eyes and turn away, back toward the window. 

“I am glad,” Din says. 

“About what?” Since it has been several minutes since either of you have spoken, you’re unsure if he’s responding or making a statement. 

He simply looks back down at you as if that answers your question. 

“We’ll be leaving today,” Din continues to study you, appreciating the way the orange dawn lights your face. “You’ve almost drained me of credits with this palace of a hotel.” 

You deny the accusation with a laugh, “I did not. I told you I made a deal.” 

“And you have not told me what that deal was,” he says, a hint of a threat in his tone. 

Din is on edge about your ‘deal.’ The night before, he had gone down to the reception desk to intimidate the clerk about it, but the employee you’d dealt with hadn’t been there.

“I promised you already - it has nothing to do with you or him,” you motion toward the child’s room. “It is not worth your attention.”

Din scowls. “You are also under my charge, and if you’ve placed yourself in danger, I need to be aware of it.” 

Your face snaps up, uselessly trying to make eye contact with him. His charge? Why does your face feel hot at those words?

Finally taking pity on him, you answer, “He was a gambler. I bet him I could win more rounds of sabacc. And I did.” 

The Mandalorian is stock-still. That was all? Din had gotten incredibly worked up over what you could possibly owe this mysterious desk clerk, and all you’d done was a bit of hustling? 

“Why would you not tell me that right away?”

“I didn’t want to seem like I was bragging,” you frown. Din had tasked you with something and you had wanted to complete it with as little fanfare as possible.

“What other skills have you been hiding?” Din’s tone is half-mocking, half-serious. He knows next to nothing about you despite the monopoly you’ve had on his thoughts.

You side-eye him, unsure of his intention. “I can do basic ship repairs. I can speak four languages. I know how to fight.” 

“I am not convinced of that last one.” 

“The cyborg caught me on a bad day,” you protest.

"It was fortunate you were not seriously injured. I wouldn't have the credits for this," he nods his head up at the high ceiling.

For the second time, your head turns to scrutinize him, but he’s as impenetrable as ever. 

"Why not?" 

Din's silver face snaps down to you. "The quarry would not have made it into the carbon freezer."

And as you open your mouth - to say what, you have no idea - a quiet knock raps on the front door. 

Spooked, you whirl so that you face the door, still seated. 

“It’s alright,” Din’s deep, rough voice soothes. 

When he holds out his hand to help you stand, you take it without second thought.

But it wasn’t just a hint of his wrist that you saw - his gloves are completely off. His rough palm slides into your grasp, and his thick fingers close around your hand. 

Eyes widening, you audibly gasp.

Din raises you to your feet with no effort, and you wind up far too close to him. Your breath fogs on his chestplate, and your pulse thrums in your ears.

Too-quickly, his thumb rubs your skin, and then he releases your hand. Do you imagine the sigh he makes as he steps away?

Your eyes are glued to his broad form as he retrieves his gloves from the couch, then heads to answer the door. 

“Should I -?” You whisper.

“Stay,” he says simply. 

It’s unbelievable how one word could affect you. You swallow hard and clasp your hands together in front of you. 

***

“As you are well aware, Mandalorian, my esteemed patron was unhappy to hear about her son’s death. However, you are of concern to us for a different reason. If we are able to reward you for your silence regarding where her son was at the time of his unfortunate, accidental death, this business might be put behind us.”

The slimeball flashes her biggest smile at the bounty hunter. 

“What am I being paid to be silent about? The Hutt was banished by the Republic due to his slavery connections. Is the Senator afraid of her choice in friends being known?” 

The emissary smiles nastily. “Let us say that the Hutt is also on my list of individuals to speak with.”

“I require explicit terms regarding this agreement. I am a Mandalorian, I can assure you of my discretion.”

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slavery you overheard between the Senator’s son and Salaa the Hutt, and we shall reward you with twenty-thousand credits to be paid over the course of three months.” 

To your horror, Din rises from the couch and nods his head, saying, “I accept your terms.”

“And what about her?” The emissary wrinkles her nose as she indicates you.

“She is a slave,” the Mandalorian says with harsh finality. 

You physically shrink next to him. He had insisted you remain while they spoke, but now you’re regretting agreeing to it.

The distaste with which he had uttered the word ‘slave’ makes you feel unclean, unwanted. Tears threaten to spill over, and you keep your head down in a familiar, submissive posture in case they do.

The bounty hunter escorts the Twi’lek emissary to the door while you sit, head bowed, on the couch. 

“Senator Nesota will be most appreciative. If you are ever in Coruscant, she would be delighted to have you visit her apartments. They are most grand.” She disapprovingly glances around the hotel room. “I assume you had your slave pick this one.” The emissary briefly places her hand on the Mandalorian’s forearm, “Remember, we are friends now, Din Djarin.”

The helmet saves his entire operation, for Din cannot stop the disgusted scowl that mars his face. This piece of scum uses his name to both threaten and flirt; the difference in his feelings between her saying it and you saying it are blindingly stark.

“I do not have friends. My name is not for your use,” he says evenly as he punches the button for the front door.

The emissary walks away without another word. 

When Din closes the door, he turns back to you with a sense of relief for more than one reason. 

But something is wrong.

“Do you not feel well?”

You shake your head, “I misunderstood something. That’s all.” Your head remains bowed.

“You will not look at me.” 

“I am… embarrassed,” you mutter honestly.

An emotion Din has never experienced or understood, he is at a loss. Instead, he sits across from you and tosses you the recorder.

The small, comm-looking device lands on your lap, and you pick it up, curiously rolling it in your hands. You press the button.

“Very well. You will not divulge the conversation regarding slav-” 

You stop the device and look up at Din with renewed hope, “You were lying.”

Din leans forward in his seat, “I was not lying. I gave her my word as a Mandalorian. But you didn’t.” 

“That’s a stretch and you know it,” you laugh. 

Din shrugs. The moral reasoning works for him.

“I am to send this recording to the Republic, correct? Get the senator removed from office?” 

“She will no longer have the funds to pay our bounties. They will be considered void.”

Your smile falters. He had done what he promised. 

Din tilts his head, “You’re unhappy about that?”

“It’s not your problem, of course. But I have to deal with the slaver’s reward. And… and I am not sure what I should do, where I should go.”

Really, you’re saddened because there is no longer any reason for you to stay. You wish there was.

The Mandalorian is silent, weighing his choice of words carefully. 

"There is room on the Razor Crest. The kid is fond of you. I can pay you for your services to him. And, occasionally, the ship needs repairs - you can assist me with those.”

“Is this that ‘legal employment’ you told me I needed?” You grin. “I would like that very much.”

“You will need to learn how to fight, though,” he shakes his head, his tone teasing. “The kid can’t save you every time.”

____________________________________

You sit on the hold floor, the child in your arms. Having left the inn rather early, the child is still asleep.

Jostling as Din lands the Razor Crest on a new planet, you slowly stand and place the little lump in his hammock and shut the door. 

The Mandalorian drops down into the hold, passing you and hitting the button for the boarding ramp. Deciding to trust him, you don't ask where you're being taken. 

The answer isn't far. Din stops right at the treeline and hands you the same silver blaster from the previous week's fight with the cyborg. 

"You need to learn to use it." 

"I've done well with a blaster before," you protest. "I shot Rathos." 

"But you didn't shoot the cyborg," you can hear the frown in his deep voice. "Pick a tree."

Nervous to be evaluated by a master of the craft, you hesitate briefly before aiming at a massive trunk a few speeders lengths away.

The plate of his armor brushes against your back as the Mandalorian gingerly sets his heavy hands on your shoulders, straightening them. With his boot, he taps the inside of your foot, indicating you should widen your stance. 

You blink rapidly. Your face flushes with warmth. Why is your heart thundering? Can he hear it? 

He can. 

His own heart rate increases when his helmet's display shows your heat signature rising. Din pushes it further: his leather-covered hands slide down to your waist where he turns you a fraction - completely unnecessarily.

Close enough that, were he unveiled, you could feel his breath, he murmurs, "Fire."

Utterly distracted, you squeeze the trigger as a matter of following his command. The blaster shot continues on through the treetops, singeing leaves. 

Din straightens, his hands leaving your body, and he huffs. 

"You distracted me," you explain. "I can hit it."

You realign the weapon and inhale deeply, releasing on the exhale just as you would with an arrow. 

The tree sizzles as you hit it dead-center. 

Spinning to face him triumphantly, the smile freezes on your lips. 

One of the suns on this planet has begun to drop behind him, and his large frame casts you in shadow. He still hasn't moved away from you. The way his mask is angled toward you makes you believe he's lost in thought. 

"What is it?" You whisper in the tense silence. 

Din feels dizzy. You're a natural with a weapon you'd fired all of three times. Your words cudgel his mind. He had distracted you enough to miss a huge karking tree.

"Do it again." 

You nod and return to the target. Throwing your mind back to your childhood, you once again hit the tree dead-on. 

Weighing the blaster in your hand, you turn back to him and say, "I still prefer wooden weapons. Or at least something resembling a spear." 

"Why is that?" His voice is rough, and his hands find a home on his hips. 

"That's how I grew up," you answer. 

"Okay. Grab one." 

Your mouth drops open in confusion, but he finally leaves your personal space and picks up a slender, twigless branch.

"You can't be serious," you sputter a laugh, certain he had just found a sense of humor. "I'm not fighting you." 

"Why not?"

"Um. Because I can't."

"You can." He holds the stick out toward you.

You stare at him, watchful, as you curl your fingers around it. Din removes a small, cylindrical object from his utility belt. He pumps it once and it unfolds into a thin cane-like weapon. 

"It's been twenty years," you frown. "You're going to win." 

But, when that makeshift spear is in your hand, it all rushes back. The key to winning is in gaining ground. Whatever you do, push your opponent back. So, you launch at him first. 

Only partially surprised by the speed of the typically-timid girl now coming for his throat, Din manages to duck out of the way just in time. But you whirl to the opposite side he expects, and swing your weapon into his helmet. It clangs, and you stand upright.

"I'm sorry!" You react, fearful both from years of mistreatment and not wanting to hurt Din.

He ignores you, swishing his weapon toward your middle, and you jump backward. Hating that you conceded even that little ground, you quickly drop to a crouch and sweep at his knees like Rathos did to you. 

Din rockets upward a few feet, then drops back down on your other side. He swings at you and you parry. 

Dancing for several steps, you eventually land a blow to his ribs where the beskar does not cover. Din's modulated groan makes you feel a rush of two separate emotions. 

You don't want to hurt him, but that sound ignites a heat between your legs.

Din retaliates, kicking his tipless spear into your chest and shoving you backward. He knows your move, now. You don't like giving up ground, so you'll throw yourself at him, arms raised to strike.

When you do exactly as he predicts, he drops his weapon completely, grabbing you around the waist and spinning. He throws you to the ground, coming down on top of you.

You laugh, exhilarated, "Almost."

Something is jabbing your hip, and when you shift to identify it, Din grunts again. Your eyes shoot to his hidden face. 

Under the helmet, Din's brown eyes are blown, pained at how aroused he is. He can't handle much more of this. Your wide eyes and galloping heart match his, but underneath him you look so vulnerable that he feels downright predatory. His stiff length twitches.

Din’s voice is raw, barely contained, "Tell me to stop and I will." His gloved thumbs push your bottoms down.

Speechless, your core pulsing, you nod. 

Din unfastens the material around his middle, pulls his desperate cock from the flight suit, and hastily positions himself against you. Your slick coats him as he drags himself through your folds. He groans through the modulator. 

“Oh,” you gasp when he eases the tip past your entrance.

Unable to wait a moment longer, Din sheaths himself inside you with a determined grunt, his patch of dark curls mingling with yours.  

Your hands try to fist in his flight suit, eyes wide at the incredible feeling of him filling you. His right hand cradles your jaw as he starts to rock his hips, cursing as he does so. 

For the first time in his life, Din resents his helmet; both for the separation from your soft skin, and the heightened senses it gives him. How is he supposed to last when he can see your heart racing, hear your quiet cries as though they’re inside his own head?

In an insufficient compromise, he rips off his gloves. His tan skin is calloused and scarred.

“Yes,” you plead.

Din intertwines his fingers on both hands with yours, hypnotized for a precious second by the intimacy. Reverently, you press a kiss to his knuckles. He makes a wild sound deep in his chest, then plunges your hands above your head. 

Pushing your chest to his, you signal that he can do anything he wants to you. He collects both your wrists in one hand.

Din rhythmically arcs into you, the sound of his body - soaked from your arousal - striking yours nearly driving you insane. When you’d imagined it before, you wondered if looking into the blank face of his helmet might be off-putting, but you find that it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because it’s him. If anything, it’s erotic to trust him so blindly. 

Din is resolved to know your body better than you do. With his free hand, his fingers nimbly massage your clit until you jerk. 

“There?” He confirms.

You nod, unable to speak. His heavy, straining cock dragging through you, and his rough fingers replace the output from all other senses.

When he finds the perfect combination, he doesn’t let up until your eyes screw shut and you shake, incoherent underneath him in ecstasy. 

“You can say it,” he hoarsely encourages through the modulator. 

It was already on your lips, “Din.”

The hand that acted as a manacle releases you as he places his palm on the ground, giving himself as much leverage to bury himself as deep as possible. The toes of Din’s boots dig up clumps of grass as he thrusts into you, the sound of skin slapping skin lost in the breeze. Your legs curl around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He feels the spark at the base of his spine and knows he doesn’t have much strength left. Your fingers twist into the fabric of his flight suit again, clinging to him for all you’re worth.

Din makes the mistake of looking into your lust-filled eyes as you speak.

“Let go,” you whisper tenderly, feeling his tense body begin to fracture.

Din has no choice but to obey you, pumping himself into you with a long, harsh sigh. He works his release inside you, gradually slowing until his arms shake.

He finally drops to the ground beside you, breathing rapidly.

Suddenly shy, you want nothing more than to reach over and take one of his hands, but you lack the confidence. You also don’t know what to say. 

Din doesn’t believe there’s anything to say. He had never been so tempted in all his life, and he had not passed the test. A shred less self-control and his helmet might’ve followed the gloves. 

In fact, the temptation is still so strong that he begins to plan for its eventuality. 

____________________________________

[ozzgin]

I've been rewatching One Punch Man and the thought about a painfully average looking reader being so strong is stuck in my head

Like maybe the reader works at like a small restaurant that she's been working at for basically all her life and she just get so strong from doing basic chores and having the mental capacity to deal with bad customers

Maybe like one of the baki characters went to try the restaurant out and maybe gotten a big crush on the waiter, whose being harassed by some rando

But before the can tell the guy to scurry on out of here or get a swing at him, she just completely knocks him out with like a punch to the face or something, and maybe the guy was really big like nearly the size of a bear

Or we can take the Garou route and say that Yujiro decided to try the restaurant out just cause' and is like really demanding, enough to get the reader pissed and correct their behavior

And their way of correcting behavior is basically "stop that" and then BAM, they suddenly he's transported in an alleyway somewhere, conveniently forgetting what happened before

Ooo, just imagine the reaction of the baki characters like your crush basically is the strongest person in the world, Yujiro doesn't even compare

Knocked him away with a simple punch even when he's fully prepared for her

This silly idea basically was brewing in my mind, and since this has lots of Yuji bullying, I thought you might like it

Funnily enough I have an older request that was in queue to be answered with basically the same concept! By the way, turns out I've already written a reader knocking out Yuujirou in one blow! I hope I haven’t built myself a reputation as a Yuujirou bully, although this post won’t help my cause.

Also, the whole idea of reader being insanely strong from menial labor reminds me a lot of Hajime no Ippo. Main character turns out to have top tier boxing potential from working at his mom’s fishing business and carrying heavy crates for the clients. Safe to say I like the reasoning a lot!

Baki Headcanons: One Punch! Reader

I’m leaving Yuujirou as a final opponent so to say, because otherwise the whole thing would be finished in 5 minutes. Imagine the anime intro with slideshows of nature scenery, and the narrator dramatically elaborating the plot and explaining why Yuujirou is the strongest creature on Earth. And literally the next panel he’s unconscious and reader awkwardly stares at the camera. Narrator coughs and has to mumble “Well I guess that’s it” and the curtains fall. That was it. That was the whole story.

So I’m going to go for a random buff stranger to showcase Reader’s strength. You have just finished taking Baki’s order. Maybe he took some of the men out to discuss certain matters. Maybe he wants to ask Retsu, Katsumi, Jack and Hanayama about their encounter with Pickle before his fight, to get some insight. He’s heard Katsumi has a big crush on the waitress here, so he picked the spot more as a joke to tease the Karate master. While attending the table there’s giggles, side glances and elbow nudges and you can only wonder why Katsumi refuses to speak (usually he’s very chatty with you) and the others have a grin on their face.

As you walk away, you notice your newer coworker struggling to handle a customer. He’s bowing repeatedly and apologizing for his mistake to a man wearing an indifferent yet sour expression. The large man begins to raise his voice and throws in a few inappropriate insults, so you gently push your coworker away, hinting that he should leave it to you, and you promptly take his place.

The customer seems to think you’re some higher up, next in line to beg for his forgiveness or perhaps suggest a discount as a peace offering. Nonetheless, he wants to make sure you understand your situation, so he stands up. Before he can open his mouth, you loudly and curtly exclaim “We unfortunately do not accept this kind of behavior. Leave, now.”

Several people have now turned their heads as the tension increases. Katsumi is uneasy and the rest of the men are also quiet, observing the unfolding event. Baki discreetly exits his booth, ready to interfere in case the situation escalates.

The man is visibly angered by your lack of fear. Once several of his threats go unanswered, he lifts his hand. By this point Baki is walking towards you. You sigh, not wanting to cause a scene. The whole thing happens rather fast, no one is entirely sure what they just witnessed, but the window is shattered, the stranger is crumpled on the sidewalk and covered in glass shards and you’re standing next to his table, fist clenched and bloodied up.

Calling the men ‘baffled’ would be an understatement. You have to explain several times that no, you’re not a professional fighter and you’ve never trained a day in your life. In fact, you’ve been working at this restaurant from the moment you could walk. It’s your family’s treasured business and you can’t see yourself doing anything else. Retsu is bewildered and demands to have your skills tested, because you could turn out to be a fearful martial arts user. A whole argument ensues and you compromise on joining them to the Underground Arena to demonstrate how far your strength goes. This evening only, and then you’re back serving customers.

Once you defeat Yuujirou, however, you’ve sealed your fate. You can’t just demolish the Ogre with one blow and walk away as if nothing happened…

*Now this is just a random thought that immediately came to mind when reading the request. Since Reader can easily beat Yuujirou, imagine the amount of people feeling like they’ve finally been avenged. It could even be a whole arranged spectacle. You know those fairs from cartoons, where one person sits above a small pool and you pay to throw a ball towards a target in order to drop them into the water? Same concept, really. There’d be a never ending line of people that have been wronged by Yuujirou somehow, so they throw some coins and Reader goes in for another punch. Yuujirou destroyed your gym? Threatened you on the street? Scared you so much you wet yourself? Gather around and enjoy the show for a small price.

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Clan of Three - Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: The Rescue

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 9.3K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, blood, semi-angst, PTSD, some wholesome moments, sad moments, Fatherly Din

------

Din wasn’t sure what he felt about Slave I they had found Dr. Pershing’s ship and were currently pursuing it when he felt this feeling that something is either going to go horribly wrong or something already has. It was like a gut feeling but he had to push it aside his priority was the two kids of Moff Gideon’s ship. The ship had just been disabled by an ion cannon and he could hear their panicked voices through the close-range communication, “They hit us with an ion cannon. Avionics are down. Comms are down!”

“Lower your shields, disengage all transponders, prepare for boarding,” Fett says as the ship docks the shuttle. Din leads first followed by a shock trooper as he enters the cockpit taking in the two pilots and the person he was after, “Before you make a mistake, this is Dr. Pershing.” One of the pilots says and Din nods,

“We’ve met. Are the kids alive?” Din looks over at the doctor whose face grows still.

“Yes, the child’s on the crew–” He starts but the second pilot grabs Pershing holding a blaster to his head. The door behind Din opens and Cara steps in with her blaster also raised. “Stay back, Dropper.”

“Easy, pal. Okay? I’m not with him. We can work something out.” The other pilot says holding his hands up easily surrendering. A bullet hits the pilot and he drops dead as they aim their blaster at the one holding Pershing hostage, “Drop your weapon.” Cara warns.

“No. No, you listen to me. This is a top-tier target of the New Republic. This is a clone engineer. And if they find out that he’s dead because of you, you’re gonna wish you never left Alderaan,” He says and Din sees Cara freeze slightly at the comment, “I saw the tear. You wanna know what else I saw? I saw your planet destroyed. I was on the Death Star.”

“Which one?” Cara grits and the pilot gives a fake laugh, “You think you’re funny? Do you know how many millions were killed on those bases?” He says pushing a very thin line and Din could feel the anger coming off Cara from the insults of her home planet.

“Drop your blaster.” She says her finger resting on the trigger, “As the galaxy cheered?”

“Last chance.” Cara warns her patience is stretched thin but the pilot just kept pushing, “Destroying your planet was a small price to pay to rid the galaxy of terrorism.” A bolt hits the co-pilot in the face narrowly missing Pershing, who screams in pain clutching his ear from the part of it singed off. Din turns watching Cara walk out heading back to the ship and Din grabs the doctor forcing him to the ship.

Arriving on the planet Lafete Din followed by Boba Fett enters a diner a hush instantly falls in the room with the appearance of two Mandalorians. Ignoring them Din heads to the corner where two Mandalorians in blue armor sit, “I need your help.” He asks and Bo-Katan turns to look at the man.

“Not all Mandalorians are bounty hunters. Some of us serve a higher purpose.” She comments taking a swig of her drink, “They took the kids.” Din says and Bo-Katan pauses slightly now fully looking at him.

“Who?” “Moff Gideon.” Din says and Bo-Katan turns away hearing the name disdain in her voice, “You’ll never find him.”

“We don’t need these two. Let’s get outta here.” Fett says to Din and Bo-Katan looks over at the man wearing Mandalorian armor, “You are not a Mandalorian.” Bo-Katan comments and Fett shakes his head, “Never said I was.”

Reeves scoffs taking her shot of spotchka “I didn’t know sidekicks were allowed to talk.”

“Well, if that isn’t the Quacta calling the Stifling slimy. Easy there, little one.” Fett comments and the girl stands getting nose to nose with the bounty hunter, “You’ll be talking through the window of a bacta tank.” She hisses and Bo-Katan raises her hand.

“All right, easy. Save it for the Imps.”

“We have his coordinates.” Din says and Bo-Katan has surprise written on her face, “You can bring me to Moff Gideon?” she asks and Din nods,

“The Moff has a light cruiser. It could be helpful in your effort to regain Mandalore.” He brings up and Fett scoffs, “You gotta be kidding me. Mandalore? The Empire turned that planet to glass.”

“You are a disgrace to your armor.” Bo-Katan says her voice laced with venom, “This armor belonged to my father.” Fett retorts and the woman snarls, “Don’t you mean your donor?”

“Careful, princess.” Fett warns the former princess, “You are a clone. I’ve heard your voice thousands of times.”

“Mine might be the last one you hear.” Fett threatens and Reeves strikes with fists and kicks the two brawl out in the bar, Fett getting thrown onto a table and breaking it as he responds with flamethrowers before pulling out their blasters but the other female Mandalorian finally steps in, “Enough! Both of you! If we had shown half that spine to the Empire we would’ve never lost our planet. We will help you. In exchange, we will keep that ship to retake Mandalore. If you should manage to finish your quest, I would have you reconsider joining our efforts. Mandalorians have been in exile from our home world for far too long.” She says to the two before looking over at Din

“Fair enough.” He agrees, “One more thing,” Bo-Katan adds, “Gideon has a weapon that once belonged to me. It is an ancient weapon that can cut through anything.”

“Almost anything.” Reeves adds and Bo-Katan nods, “It cannot cut through pure beskar. I will kill the Moff and retake what is rightfully mine. With the Darksaber restored to me, Mandalore will finally be within reach.”

“Help me rescue the kids and you can have whatever you want. They are my only priority.” Din says as he gains the final two allies he needed as they return to Fett’s ship.

“This is Moff Gideon’s Imperial light cruiser. In the old days, it would carry a crew of several hundred. Now it operates with a tiny fraction of that.” On Slave I Bo-Katan briefs them all with the hologram of Gideon’s ship, “Your assessment is misleading.” Dr. Pershing speaks up seated with restraints.

“Oh, great. An objective opinion.” Cara says rolling her eyes, “This isn’t subterfuge. I assure you.” He says and Bo-Katan holds her hand up to Cara, “Let him speak.”

“There’s a garrison of dark troopers on board. They are the ones who abducted the Child and the girl.” Pershing explains and Din nods having seen these Dark Troopers with his own eyes on Tython. “How many troopers do they have armed in those suits?” He asks

“These are third-generation designs. They are no longer suits. The human inside was the final weakness to be solved. They’re droids.” Pershing explains that these troopers sound like a threat to their plan, “Where are they bivouacked?” Fennec asks and Pershing looks over at the map and then at Bo-Katan silently asking for permission which she grants before he points at a second of the map as it grows larger.

“They’re held in cold storage in this cargo bay. They draw too much power to be kept at ready.” He says, “How long to power up?”

“A few minutes, perhaps.” He says and Din is staring at the map

“Where are the kids being held?”

Din notices the slight hesitation in Pershing before he pointed at another section of the map, “This is the brig. He’s being held here under armed guard.” Pershing says and everyone seems to notice how he only addressed one.

“Where is the girl being held?” Din says and sees the fear in Pershing’s eyes and hidden behind the beskar helmet his expression was grim. “Where. Is. She.”

“Moff...Moff Gideon disposed of the girl,” His words were like knives that impaled Din and the room went deathly silent as Pershing tried to find a less harsh way of describing it, “Gideon saw her as a threat.”

“A threat!? She’s a child!” Cara hisses at the doctor her own anger and sadness thick in her tone. Din couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe, this wasn’t real. He would close his eyes and be back on the Razor Crest, you and the child would be with him and everything would be alright. He would take you to a planet where you all could be safe..you were safe. You weren’t de- He felt bile fill his throat but he forced it down.

“She was a threat to the revival of Mandalore,” The comment brings attention to the Mandalorians in the room, “What revival of Mandalore?” Bo-Katan says hearing this news of her homeworld and Pershing feeling the danger of not speaking more and being forced to keep going.

“Gideon planned to retake Mandalore and rebuild the empire from there…with the girl, he initially gave the option of her taking the Mandalorian throne beside him,” He pauses the thought itself even disgusted him, “To take the throne beside him and produce Mandalorian heirs..” Din felt sick no he didn’t want to picture any of this. You were a child you were only seventeen, you haven’t lived and to hear you would be forced to create children by Gideon...He was going to rip Gideon apart.

“But the girl is from Tatooine how could she…” Cara comments stopping from saying that part, “Do that.”

“She is born on Tatooine her mother is from the planet but her father…” Pershing starts and his gaze briefly meets Din before moving to Bo-Katan, “Is of Mandalore..her father's parents being...Obi-Wan Kenobi and Duchess Satine Kryze.”

Bo-Katan’s head instantly snaps up hearing the names before it all clicked, “No..” She shakes her head stepping back slightly, “They said neither of them survived. No, they didn’t survive. I-” The fear crossed her face before there was no way of denying the truth. How did she not see it..her nephew’s daughter..how did she not see the features of her nephew or her own sister in the girl. Bo-Katan covers her mouth the truth that her entire family was truly gone was too sickening.

“What did he do to her,” Bo-Katan whispers the horror in her eyes as Pershing guilty has to continue, “She rejected his proposal and he..he killed her.”

“Where is she,” Din speaks up having been deadly silent and the energy coming off him was only rage. Anything could set him and he was going to kill everyone on the cruiser…and when he got to Gideon. He was going to put him threw more pain than he’ll ever experience. Din wouldn’t grant him the mercy of a quick death but something that will last years. He would push aside his own survival to make sure he feels this pain to remember what he did to you.

Pershing looks at the Mandalorian in fear, “Gideon put her in the brig.” He says and Din looks forward.

“We split into two parties.” Bo-Katan says quickly swiping the tears brimming her lashes as she quickly clears her throat, “I go alone.” Din says his word final and everyone looks at the grieving man and doesn’t argue.

“Okay. Phase one, Lambda shuttle issues a distress call. Two, we emergency land at the mouth of the fighter launch tube, cutting off any potential interceptors. Koska, Fennec, Dune, and myself disembark with maximum initiative. Once we’ve neutralized the launch bay, we make our way through these tandem decks in a penetration maneuver...” Bo-Katan’s voice drowns out as Din is pulled into his head. His hands were in tight fists his armor felt like a deadweight on him he couldn’t think it was just acting now. What was he going to do when he finds you…how is he to tell the child..he would have to tell Cobb. He wasn’t even sure how he was keeping it together, he was split between killing anyone in his path or screaming and crying his heart out. He was never more thankful for the beskar for hiding the tears that silently slid down his face as their meeting for this final fight ended and they moved to the shuttle to go to Gideon’s cruiser. He was going to avenge you and you would be given a true Mandalorian burial…maker he was going to do everything right for you. He was going to save the child he would promise you that he won’t fail twice.

You open your eyes finding yourself in your old home in Mos Eisley… it was the night you lost your parents everything looked exactly the same. “Mama? Papa?” You call out as you see a shadow blur past you entering your parents' room. Walking towards the door you pause before pushing it open about to step in.

“Y/n? What are you doing up?” Your mother’s voice makes you turn around and you see her standing in the middle of your living room with a confused look on her face. She didn’t look different at all shock was written on your face. “Mama..?” You whisper your voice gets choked up as your eyes begin to burn. You step closer looking at her with wonder as she smiles cupping your face a gasp pulled from your chest feeling her warm touch. Her smile is comforting as she frowns slightly wiping a tear you didn’t know was there, “Why the tears sweetie?” She says and you were certain she was real..this was real.

“I-” The doors cuts you off as a tired-looking man walks in, “Now where’s my little womp rat!” Your father’s voice produces more tears as he drops his bag spotting you scooping you up in the air just like when you were a child hugging you, “I’ve missed you, my daughter.”

“Papa…” You whisper your hands instantly digging into the back of his shirt holding him close, your face pressed into his shoulder breathing in the scent of your father. His touch, his voice, his warmth, everything..this was real. You pull back seeing the wide smile on his face and you can’t help the broken cry to come from your mouth.

“What’s wrong darling?” Your father asks and your mother joins his arm wrapping around her side and you have to take a step back looking at the two of them.

“I…I just never thought I’d see you again.” You whimper trying to hold in the broken cry, that little girl praying maybe it was a cruel joke and you would see your parents again. The hope that girl held onto all these years was that she would have her mother’s comforting words again and her father’s strong hugs back in her life. She thought that girl had died along with her parents but they were in front of her.

“You must have missed me a lot when I’m gone from work.” He says with a laugh and you chuckle with tears in your eyes from his joke. You still couldn’t believe your eyes. You must have died and gone to heaven for this to be real.

“This is the non-diplomatic option,”

A searing pain fills your body and you feel your insides rip apart. You cry out hitting the ground as your parents rush to help you. Your hands hold your stomach as they help you to your feet, pulling your hands back seeing red coating your hands and stomach. Your gaze snaps up and your parents are gone the lights in your home out leaving you in eerie darkness. “Mama?! Papa!?” You shout looking around and your stomach churns seeing your father’s deceased body on the ground the sandstone soaked with his blood. You gasp turning away from the view only making yourself see a part of your mother’s body through the doorway to their bedroom. You hit the door pushing hard against it to let you out and it slides open as you fall out. The sand digs into your palms as you try to catch your breath focusing on calming the panic in your heart.

“Y/n?” Cobb’s voice calls out and you look up as he stands over you looking over you with a concerned look on his face. “What are you doing out?” He takes your hands helping you up and he doesn’t even notice the blood that covers your hands that doesn’t transfer to his.

“Cobb…I..was just..what am I doing..” You try to explain but grow even more confused looking around not in Mos Eisley but Mos Pelgo the second home you had with the Marshal looking after you.

“I think you had a long night of training and you need some sleep,” Cobb says trying to lead you toward your guys' home. Training..going across the dunes…the jedi texts…your lightsaber..the Krayt Drag-no that didn’t happen.

“Ni vor entye gota'la par ner ad's oyay” “Ni'm Ni ceta Din.”

Arms hold you close as comforting words are whispered to you a language spoken lightly to you. There was a man he had…you never saw his face..why?

“Din…” You whisper out and Cobb gives you a look as he tries bringing you inside but you pull away.

“Din? Not sure where you got that name from come on I’m taking you off helping the elders tomorrow you need rest.” His hand reaches out but you recoil back. Why had you thought of this man…who was he. Cold flashes of metal, a ship of the old republic, the giggles of a child.

“No..this..why am I-” You shake your head moving further away from Cobb concern on his face, “Come on kid, this isn’t funny whatever joke you’re pulling.”

“Put her in the brig and let her die a jedi,”

You gasp in pain as it grows stronger your knees hit the ground hard now metal not the sands of Tatooine. Your hand presses hard against your stomach cringing in pain a metallic taste fills your mouth as you spit on the ground seeing red. Struggling to stand and looking around find yourself on a ship the hallways are long, and the coldness surrounded you as you move through them feeling yourself grow weak. Your hand is still held against your stomach as your other grabs the wall to stabilize yourself as a gasp of air tries to fill your burning lungs.

“Kid..” A voice calls out and your head snaps up at the end of the hall stands a man covered in armor. He seemed familiar but you couldn’t remember where as you stand on opposite ends, “olaror yaim,” He calls out the language smooth on his tongue his hand raised held out for you to take. Then it was flashes of memories watching them as they played out in front of you.

“You need to get patched up or it’s going to get infected.” You look over your shoulder glaring at him. “I don’t need your help.” His hands are rough as he cleans the cut on your temple on Arvala-7 the first real interaction between you two.

“Come on we have to go!” He jumps off the speeder grabs the child and you jump over the side almost falling to the ground if he didn’t grab you. You shake your head trying to keep the pain in. “I can’t...my foot.” You say your voice trembling and he looks around before handing you the child again and scooping you up being held in his arms as blaster fire soars over you as bounty hunters and Mandalorians fight for your escape.

The bolt hits the pan dead center it knocking over. Your hands drop down holding the weapon to your side. “You did well.” Mando says and you look up at him before nodding slightly returning the weapon to him, “Keep that up and you’ll be a sharpshooter.” You can’t ignore the warmth that fills your chest hearing the compliment and noticing the pride that was in his voice. The confident feeling didn’t leave you just hearing the pride in his voice something you could never get rid of the feeling.

“I’m assuming you knew I was coming.” You say and he looks down at you the damn helmet hiding his emotions. “No, not really, just a shot in the dark.” He says taking the rifle and slinging it across his back but not taking the blaster, “Keep it…it will keep you safe.” He says pushing the blaster back into your hands and you look down at the item gifted to you, just like the knife.

“Down!” He yells and you drop down as his flamethrower burns two droids as they melt together. You stand up your blaster firing at the droid he was once fighting in the head, while he shoots at the droid you cut the foot off. The six droids lay dead around you, oil and parts surround the two of you. The cheers from the prisoners witnessing the fight. “You good kid?” He looks at you silently checking you for injuries and you nod. “I’m fine Mando.”

“No what are you doing?! Cara let go of me. Mando get up! We have to go!” Cara begins pulling you towards the sewer vent, struggling slightly pulling you with one hand and the other holding her blaster. “Mando stop her! Please don’t leave me! Din! Get up, please! I don’t wanna go! Cara let go of me! Din! Din Please!” Your voice screams out your hand trying to reach out to him as his hand drifts off you falling to his side.

Your body collides into Mando’s your arms wrapping around his waist tightly and his free hand rest on the back of your head keeping you close to him as he whispers words that you can’t understand. The beskar cold on your skin as tears fall down your face. You pull back looking up at him grateful to see his metal helmet, his rough gloves wipe away the tears on your face. “I thought you were gone.”

“I know I shouldn’t have done that but there was no time to explai-” You’re cut out and pulled into his chest as he holds your head close to his chest not caring the saliva was getting on him. This surprises you and Cobb as well who feels like he’s intruding on a moment. “Ni vor entye gota'la par ner ad's oyay” Din mumbles so quickly that you could barely pick up any of the words he rushed in Mando’a. Din holds one hand on your upper back the other clutched within your hair though it doesn’t hurt you. You felt safe in his embrace.

You curl up against his side the child cooing in your arms as you try to steal as much heat of the Mandalorian, his arm around your back holds you tight against him, “Get some sleep kid,” He says looking down at his two children making sure they were alright before worrying about himself. The cold was harsh but the heat you had gotten by being cuddled with two others made going to sleep pretty easy.

But it wasn’t coldness from the air but his words as your heart breaks, “Din I only just learned your name! You probably weren’t ever going to tell me anyways. No matter how much you try to teach me about the Mandalorians I won’t be one. I’m not your daughter and you are not my father!” You spit and the atmosphere is quickly cold and you step back realizing the words that came out of your mouth. “You're right…You're not my daughter and I sure as hell ain't your father. When we meet the Jedi we will be going our separate ways.” Din declares and you can’t ignore the malice in his words. You knew you hurt him with what you said but just hearing him say those same words back to you felt like a dagger in your chest. You nod sharply looking away from him trying to keep the quickly forming tears. You don’t deserve to cry...you caused this. You just ruin everything and push people away. What you feared so deeply...being alone had smacked you in the face so face  

The pain in your heart turned physical as you gasp for air as he holds you down, “You’re going to be alright..you hear me…you’re not leaving me.” He promises you his hand squeezes tightly on you before he pulls away slightly and you see him rip something off himself and you feel rough skin against your hand and on your face. Your eyes though weak and hazy widen feeling the skin touching yours, the contact of his against yours. You knew the importance of his creed the reason his skin, his face is hidden behind beskar and he just broke a part of it…for you. He squeezes your hand again his other swipes the tears from your cheek the pads of his fingers warm, “You’re going to be alright.”

“I don’t wanna die…please...please I wanna stop…dad.”

You freeze watching yourself cry out to him..you weren’t sure what you feared more. Knowing that you would never have the chance of having a normal family, never see your mother’s smiles or feel the embrace of your father, or have that little girl get part of her dream back. To have someone love her, protect her, make her smile, make her cry, to have that figure back in her life. You couldn’t stop it you said it and it scared you. He had fit the characteristics from the moment you met him.

“Dad..” You call out to Din your weak limp as you try to grow closer to him but it seemed like the hallway stretches farther your limp turned into a weak run. “Dad…Dad! Dad!” Something trips you and you hit the ground gasping for air the pain in your stomach only grows stronger as you push yourself to your knees but you stop when you see what lies in front of you. You’re frozen…paralyzed looking at the body that lays before you, her face dull as she stares straight up her eyes lifeless.

“No…no no No!” You cry out scrambling over your body your hands colliding with your shoulders as you shake yourself trying to wake them up. “Wake up…wake up wake up!” You cry out as your lifeless eyes stare back at you, the wound in your stomach too great. Your hands press to stop the bleeding the blood pouring past you like a river feeling the pain in your own grow stronger making you cry out in pain,

“Please you have to wake up...I wanna go home..you have to live.” You cry tears fall from your face as your cry into your chest feeling defeated. Your life felt like a grain of sand so minute as it blended with the rest of the dunes. Would you remain here forever forced in this state to watch the world around you? Was Din going to find your body or were you to rot in this cell until they dispose of you themselves?

“You gotta wake up..please you have to.” You whisper into your chest as silence is your only response a hand rest on your shoulder and you jump looking up and seeing a man staring down at you. He’s dressed in robes with auburn hair and a thick beard there’s sadness in his eyes as he looks at you.

“It is not your time young one…” He speaks his voice calm but with strength behind him as he bends down before putting his hand over the wound where yours lies. Another hand joins in and you stare at a beautiful woman with an elaborate headpiece and kind eyes, two more join, and your father smiles at you his hand cups your face though you only feel coldness off it while your mother just smiles, people, surround you their hands touching your shoulders or your legs any part of your body they can touch and you feel strength grow in your limbs.

Someone touches your chest right where your heart lies and you feel a wave of energy flow through you it was a shadow of a man but you catch the details of Mandalorian armor though old and unlike anything you’ve ever seen. You stare into the helmet feeling his gaze back.

“These are your final steps.”

You wake up with a sharp gasp your cuffed hands instantly going to your stomach seeing the hole in your clothes feeling your back as well feeling the hole in your shirt your skin was clear only covered in blood but there wasn’t a single scratch on your body. You bring your hands up to your temple feeling the stickiness of the blood but no pain when you press down where the cut was. A faint whisper brushes your skin as you turn to look off in a direction and through the walls and everything you can sense him.

“Moff Gideon..”

It’s a silent rage one no one suspects just building as the doors to the cell open easily and you enter the hallway. Turning the corner and spotting a lone trooper walking down the hall you follow after your footsteps silent as you pull the vibroblade from their belt stabbing them rapidly on their neck as they let out a blood-filled gargle before collapsing on the ground. You kneel down prying the blaster rifle from its grasp seeing it had one round in it before needing a new charge. That was alright you were going to make sure you didn’t miss and if not you were going to rip him apart with your own hands.

The plan was set as they traveled through hyperspace Din was off to the side silently watching everyone else prepare his mind was only focused on two things, Save the child and if given the chance kill Moff Gideon himself.

“Prepare to exit jump space.” Fett calls out through the comms on Slave I as Bo-Katan pilots Perhsing’s shuttle, “Copy that. Get the hell out of there as soon as they clear us to dock. And your shots have to look convincing.”

“Power up those shields, princess. I’ll put on a good show.” Fett comments and they could hear the smirk in his voice, “Watch out for those deck cannons.” Bo-Katan warns while powering up the shields.

“Don’t worry about me. Just be careful in there.” Fett comments as Reeves jumps in, “Exiting hyperspace in three, two, one…” The ship jolts out of hyperspace as the plan begins.

“This is Lambda shuttle, Two-Seven-Four-Three. Requesting emergency docking. Repeat, requesting emergency docking. We are under attack.” Bo-Katan fakes distress as she dodges the blaster fire sent by Fett as they fly toward Gideon’s cruiser.

“Copy, Lambda shuttle. Request received.” A comms officer responds, “Stay clear of the launch tube. Deploying fighter squadron.” Two TIEs launch from the cruiser but Bo-Katan continues straight toward the launch tube, “Request denied! Please clear the launch tube until fighters deploy!” The comms officer speaks up.

“Negative! Negative! We are under attack!” Bo-Katan cuts in as they draw closer to the launch bay ignoring the shouts from the comm officer, “Clear launch tube immediately.”

“Hang on,” Bo-Katan says as they fly straight through the launch tube crashing into the bay the ship jerking around the large scratching as the shuttle drags against the ground. Troopers stand outside the ship as the ramp lowers down.

“What are you doing? Get that thing out of here!” A trooper shouts out but a bolt hits him in the chest and he drops dead. Blaster fire is quickly exchanged as the troopers in the bay are quickly taken down and Gideon watches this all from the bridge listening to their screams

“Activate the dark troopers.”

“Moff Gideon,” The comms officer calls to him as he turns away from the large control table and the look on her face as she tries to hold back the horror, “The girl…she’s not in the brig anymore.”

The women move ahead clearing the bay with ease and Din silently exits the ship looking over the damage as he makes his way toward the dark trooper bay. The halls empty most of the stormtrooper after the women as they head for the bridge leaving the path clear for him. Reaching the dark troopers’ cargo hull right as the doors begin to open and Din hears the heavy metal marching as they move towards the door,

“No. No!” Din yells dashing forward and putting Pershing’s code cylinder into the slot to close to the door but one droid holds the door open and manages to get through. It fires at Din with precise shots hitting the beskar making him stumble back. Din fires back with his blaster but it has no effect the bolt bounces off its armor just like beskar it swings its long arm and Din slides under it sending his flamethrower and melting the face but it still doesn’t react as it grabs Din by the throat slamming him against the wall the beskar denting into the thick metal wall. His whole body is rattled as he is repeatedly slammed deeper into the wall. Sending the whistling birds they explode around the droid only staggering it and dropping him. Past the droid, he can see the others punching the glass windows trying to break through. A punch straight to his chest sends him sliding across the floor and he stands pulling off his spear gifted by Tano fighting against its sheer strength and size before he stabs it straight into the neck. It malfunctions before falling down defeated. Din rushes over turning the code cylinder right as they pry the doors open, depressurizing the cargo bay the troopers are sucked out into space. Leaning against the wall sucking in a heavy breath from the battle his body aches being thrown around. Moving towards the droid grabbing the beskar spear before heading for the brig. His mission to save the kid was his only priority.

In the turbolift, Cara continues to fiddle with her large gun that is jammed, “Dank farrik! Son of a mudscuffer!” She hisses and Bo-Katan looks over at her, “Are you sure you don’t need any help?’

The shock trooper slams the gun against the wall and it powers up right as the doors open “I think that did it. Excuse me.”

“Hostiles! Stop!” A trooper yells out as they enter the bridge but Cara mows them down with her weapon they quickly enter the bridge taking down the officers inside that try to fight.

“Weapons system disarmed,” Reeves says disabling the systems on the large console as Bo-Katan looks around only one thought on her mind.

“Where’s Gideon?”

The halls are silent as Din travels turning the corner and spotting two troopers guarding a cell. Coming up behind one he juts the beskar spear stabbing the one further away from him before bringing the spear up to the trooper's neck and pulling back. Their legs shake as they grasp the beskar spear trying to stop it from choking him. Din pulls harder pulling the trooper into the air and with a sharp jerk, a crack fills the air as he snaps his neck. Putting away the spear taking out his blaster he moves to the door panel and opens it. Relief fills him spotting the child who coos happily seeing Din. He rushes forward grabbing him and releasing the cuffs from the child’s small wrists.

“You’re alright kid..” He whispers to Grogu still keeping his guard up. He felt guilt in him a grieving father having to give the news one of their own was gone. But when he looked at him it was almost like he knew something he didn’t...that things were going to be alright. “Bo-Katan..come in Bo-Katan.”

“I read you, did you rescue the child?” Her voice comes through his comm, “I have we heading towards the bridge, you have Moff Gideon in your custody?” He asks and it’s silence that only fills a pit of fear in Din.

“Moff Gideon wasn’t on the bridge…we thought he was with the child..” Bo-Katan’s voice comes through and Din is confused and nervous about what this meant.

“What.” He had assumed they were with him but it did make sense he would be with the child if he was neither here nor there…where was he?

“Din.” “What?” He calls out hearing the urgency in Bo-Katan’s voice, “Head to the main hall we’ll meet you there. We found Gideon.” Din’s already rushing to the map location sent to him.

His presence moved through the walls before stopping in one location as you follow it entering a grand hall on the light cruiser. It only held one door and you spot him standing completely alone his back towards you. Raising the blaster aiming at him to pull the trigger and deliver the final kill. “A bit of a coward’s kill don’t you think princess? At least give me a warrior’s death just like you Mandalorians.”

“You don’t deserve a warrior’s death you monster.” You growl moving towards him until you were an arms-length away, “Amusing. I’ll be sure to give you one then.” The blade of the Darksaber swings out and you lean back dodging the attack. Firing your only shot at him but he blocks the blaster fire swinging again making you move back again. He attacks in wide sweeping motions and your still cuffed wrists restrain you from the force leaving you to yourself. Pulling the knife from your belt ducking under his arms cutting at his side as he growls out in pain swinging the blade with rage in him.

“You just don’t know how to stay dead!” He shouts and you smirk the knife coated in his blood in your grasp, “Try killing me better.” He roars arching the blade down and you are forced to move backward as he swings the blade out you lean to the side but he raises his foot kicking you straight in the stomach and you fall to your back. Gasping for air as he stabs it towards the ground but you roll out of the way.

“You’re weak! A thief from Tatooine! You’re insignificant, your scum, from a dying race. The Jedi are gone! The Mandalorians are gone! And the remaining hidden in the gutter will be brought out and slaughtered.” He shouts swinging the blade down on your again and you thrust your wrists forward as it cuts through the cuffs and the spark before falling off your wrists. You stare up at him as a look of horror crosses his face as he sees the cuffs restricting your abilities fall off.

You swipe your hand out the Darksaber sliding against the floor and your other hand in a fist. Gideon grabs his neck and pulled straight into your grasp as your fist slams straight into his face and he sees stars. Your other fist is swinging right after digging into his face and a loud crunch fills the air as his nose shatters blood pouring like a fountain and getting all over your hand as you grab the back of his head and slam it into your knee. Each punch for everything he's done, for your grandparents, for your planet, the death of your parents, for all the Mandalorians, for Kuill, for IG-11, for you. He deserved every hit and you weren’t stopping until his blood painted your skin. You scream bringing your fist down on his face, you ignore the pain that fills your hands you would break yourself until you knew he was dead. Gideon’s on his back unable to defend himself as this girl pounds her fists into his face breaking both his and her bones. Blood splatters against your face and his features are covered in blood as he tries to fight off you. You hold your hand out the beskar weapon pulling into your hand as you activate the blade over him as you stare at his defeated face and him staring at the wrath in yours.

You’re ripped off him and you fight hard kicking your legs out throwing your head back to hit them your arms trying to break from their grip. You swing the weapon in your hand but you’re quickly disarmed. “Get off me! Kriffing let me go” “Kid stop! Stop it!” A voice yells out to you as you’re pulled away your vision is blinded seeing someone come to Gideon’s side. You lose sight of him as your turn around your wrists grabbed to stop you from fighting and you stare back at metal.

“Kid it’s me! Stop it…stop!” You weren’t sure you would ever see him again, as he holds you still though you try fighting. “He has to die! I’ll kriffing kill him. Gideon has to!” You shout trying to break free from his grasp but he’s like beskar unbreakable your anger moves from Gideon to him as your hands pound on his chest and you try pushing him away. The pain in your knuckles that were definitely shattered fuels you further. “I have to kill him…I have to…let me go!” Your fighting grows weaker as he pulls you into his chest holding you tight to him as your shouting turns to cries your fist against his chest weak as you break down in his arms.

“I have to...I have to stop him...Din..” You cry into his chest as his hand strokes your back the other holds your head to him, “Shhh…gev…gar cuyir morut'yc…ni cuy' olar…ni ganar gar cyar'ika...I got you..it’s alright..” He whispers as he holds you close to him. He never wanted to let you go and he wanted to take all your sadness and pain from what you experienced and cast it away. He wanted you and the child to be safe and happy living the rest of your lives in peace.

Din pulls you to your feet holding you to his side as you look at Gideon lying in a crumbling mess of blood on the floor. The group had entered the room ready to take on Moff Gideon but hadn’t expected to see you above him about to give the killing blow. Din had to grasp onto the wall his whole body felt weak just hearing seeing her he felt thrown in two different directions one removing all the air in his lungs and the other filling him back with life. Cara checks Gideon’s pulse as he sputters awake but weak, “He’s alive.” Though it’s not in relief but for other reasons. Your body felt on fire the blood coating your hands and face as you hold your hand out calling the weapon back to your hand. It was heavy a weight to your grasp whispers coming off it but your gaze was drilled to Moff Gideon as he is shackled.

The group was surprised to see Gideon and yourself but one is surprised for another reason looking at the weapon in your possession, “What did you do?” Bo-Katan asks looking at you.

“She left him alive, that’s what happened. And now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.” Cara says looking at the New Republic prize but Gideon has a weak smirk on his face, “That’s not what she’s talking about. Why don’t you kill her now and take it but you wouldn’t do that to dear family? It’s yours now.” He coughs some blood out then looks over at Bo-Katan

“What is?” Din asks confused about what’s going on, “The Darksaber. It belongs to you.” Gideon comments looking at you with a bloodstained grin as you look at the weapon in your grasp. You look at the hilt before moving towards Bo-Katan holding out to her.

“Now…it belongs to her,” You say. A pained look on her face as she doesn’t accept the blade, “She can’t take it. It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.” Gideon explains the joy on his face watching the frustration and pain on the female Mandalorian’s face.

“I yield,” You say pushing the blade further out to her, “It’s yours.”

Gideon laughs shaking his head and moving closer from the ground but is pushed back by Cara, “Oh, no. It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.” Din looks at the expression on Bo-Katan's face as she knows he’s right,

“He’s right,” Bo-Katan says her history of the Darksaber having not rightfully earned the blade a crack at her integrity. “Come on, just take it,” You say, this wasn’t you. You weren’t a ruler, you weren’t meant to lead people, especially ones you didn’t even know you shared blood with. The weapon branded you for the responsibility it carried and the pain it has inflicted on others and yourself. You felt your skin burn just holding it you felt sick just looking at it.

“Well, perhaps she’ll get another crack at it,” Gideon smirks right as an alarm goes off blaring in the bridge as Fennec looks at the schematics on her vambrace, “The ray shields have been breached. We’re being boarded.”

“How many life forms?” Bo-Katan asks as they prepare for the fight and Fennec looks at them with a concerned look on her face, “None.”

“Seal those blast doors!” Cara says as Fennec quickly closes the blast doors and they move further back preparing for the dark troopers to come to their doorstep. “You’re about to face off with the dark troopers. You had your hands full with one. Let’s see how you do against a platoon.” Gideon sneers at Din who holds the child now furthest away from the blast doors prepared for the fight.

A bang on the blast door makes you jump and you see the blast doors slowly dent as the pounding on the door grows louder, “They’re here.” Reeves says. Din pulls you to stand bringing you to stand behind him, you could see Gideon was moved to the side. You look away down to your hands seeing the blood that coats your arms and the weapon held in your hands. Looking forward as the dent in the blast doors grows larger when another alarm sounds and Reeves moves to see what it is, “An X-wing.”

“One X-wing? Great. We’re saved.” Cara says sarcastically preparing her blaster and Bo-Katan speaks into her comms, “Incoming craft, identify yourself.” You look out the window as well as Grogu looking at the starship grow closer, you could sense something great coming from them as they boarded the light cruiser. You’ve never felt this strongness in the force before as it washes over you. At the same time, the droids stop attacking the pounding on the blast doors ceasing,

“Why did they stop?” A woman in black and orange armor says you look through the hologram on one of their vambraces a hooded figure disembarks the X-Wing making their way through the halls before they encounter dark troopers in a storage hall and you see a blade emit as they cut through the droids. You watch this person deflect blaster fire, cutting down dark troopers and even crushing one.

“A Jedi?” Bo-Katan whispers as you hear fighting come from right outside the blast doors with loud blaster fire but it sounded like this jedi on the other side was winning. As they grew closer you see the jedi finish off the last of the dark troopers the presence of this jedi was strong.

“Open the doors,” Din says and the others look at him like he’s crazy, “I said, open the doors.” The other armored woman shakes her head, “Are you crazy?” She disagrees and Din moves to open the doors himself. They open and you see the destruction and the defeated droids as the hooded figure enters the energy is almost overwhelming as the jedi removes his hood and your jaw drops staring at the man.

“Luke Skywalker…” You whisper in awe staring at the jedi from your home planet. Small farmboy from Tatooine to Master Jedi, the one that took down the Death Star and defeated Darth Vader.

Din steps forward looking at Luke, “Are you a Jedi?” He asks and the man nods his hands folded in front of him,

“I am,” He says before holding out his hand, “Come, little ones.” He looks over at the Grogu in the seat and over at you who stands behind Din. You feel frozen being addressed and you look over at the child who doesn’t move as well. Din seems more focused on the child as he looks back at Skywalker,

“He doesn’t want to go with you.”

“He wants your permission,” Luke says, “He is strong with the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect the Child and the girl… but they will not be safe until they master their abilities.” He explains and you look at Din seeing him look at the child and you. He moves towards Grogu picking him up and holding him in his arms and you finally move coming to stand by him as he looks down at the both of you,

“Hey, go on. That’s who you belong with. He’s one of your kind…” Din says looking at the two of you, “I’ll see you again. I promise.” He says and your eyes burn with tears watching the sad moment between him and Grogu but also knowing you were losing him as well. The small hand of the child reaches up touching the metal of his helmet before looking up at him with sad eyes. Your chest tightens seeing Din’s hand reach up and he removes the beskar that shields him from the world. The most important part of his creed was broken for you both. You weren’t sure what you expected but he had a strong jaw that was covered in a patchy beard to a rugged face, his eyes were brown, and his short hair brown as well sort of untamed being covered by the helmet. His eyes were filled with sadness and his lack of control over his expressions due to the helmet was apparent. Grogu reaches his hand up touching his skin for the first time as Din closes his eyes trying not to break. You looked away feeling like you were intruding on this moment between the two. Opening his eyes he looks over at you a bit surprised seeing you looking away and then down to the child, “All right, pal. It’s time to go. Don’t be afraid.” Placing the child to the floor he looks up at Skywalker but cooing comes from his leg seeing the child holding on to his pant leg. The sound of the droid appearing as an astromech droid appears in blue and white colors as it beeps almost speaking to Grogu as he moves towards the droid. It beeps shaking with happiness making the small child smile as you watch with a bittersweet smile. Luke looks down at the child as he raises his hands to be picked up and the jedi complies holding him in his arms. He looks down at the child before the Jedi's gaze meets yours, “Come, little one” He says holding his hand out and you feel frozen in carbonite. You felt embarrassed and scared as you stood covered in blood that was not your own like this was proper material of a jedi.

“Y/n...” Din calls out to you and you feel torn between two worlds, one world where you become a jedi learning of the force but meaning you leave Din, and the other you learn more of your past but never get the proper training from a jedi. You shake your head panic flooding your veins, “Kid..” Din’s hands grasp your face making you look at him and you still were not used to seeing his actual face. There was sadness but he was also trying to look strong for you.

“I just got you back..” You whisper as he swipes away a tear that falls down your face and he gives a sad smile, “You won’t be safe with me..you have to go.” He says and you shake your head trying to refuse.

“You’ll be alright cyar'ika.” He says as he helps you turn to face the jedi stepping forward feeling the warmth from the Mandalorian leave you as you stand in front of the Jedi quite intimidated by his presence. You holster the hilt to your belt feeling its presence and your hands nervously swipe at your pants trying to get any excess blood off them as you look at Skywalker and then at Grogu in his arms. Tears burn your eyes as your fingers gently rub his ears a coo coming off him, “I’ll miss you so much.” You whisper to the small child that looks at you with wide eyes before you step back away from the jedi shocking him and Din who watches.

“I can’t…I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks as you reject his offer and the Jedi looks over you sensing something in the force and seeing the weapon resting at your hip, “Without proper training, you will cause harm to those around you and to yourself.” Luke warns you trying to get you to reconsider, he knew what he felt in the force when the two of you were at the seeing stone. He felt the trained guidance that the child in his arms went through as he handled the force, but yours was frantic and unstable with a lack of training you lacked balanced and could be easily swayed to either the light or the darkness that he feared. Your emotions guided you through the force and you tread on a very thin line where one step could quickly pull you to the dark side.

“Your connection to the force is driven by your emotions without proper guidance you walk a thin line that can have you fall down the path of the dark side,” He cautions you trying to get you to understand the decision you were going to make. Even Din was worried that this Jedi knew that your choice of not going could end with you turning evil he didn’t want that for you.

“Kid-” “I’m sorry…I’m not going,” You cut Din off looking at the Jedi, “I’ll take my chances.” Your decision is final as you step beside Din your hand slipping into his. While he felt fearful of your rejection to join the Jedi Din couldn’t ignore the happiness he felt knowing you weren’t leaving. Luke looks over at you one last time before nodding at you and Din.

“May the Force be with you.” He says before turning you watch the child as he looks at you two standing holding hands being each other's pillar. Skywalker, his droid, and Grogu enter the turbolift and you look at the child for once last time giving a weak smile as tears slide down your cheeks and you could feel the sadness coming off Din being forced to say goodbye to one of his children. You both lost a part of your clan but the two of you would support one another until that fateful day the child would return to you and you all would be together again.

A/N: Season 2 of Clan of Three is done! It's been so exciting continuing this story and I'm so thankful for the support! You all are amazing and I can't wait to release the book of boba fett and season three!

[aaakikoo]

EVEN EVEN MORE ODDLY SPECIFIC BAKUGOU KATSUKI HEADCANONS

an -> check out pt1 & pt2 ! I tried to make more this time lol. This is part 3

1. professional cooker? it’s pretty obvious but like the food he makes is immaculate??? Like, top tier kind of desserts and meals? And the man won’t open his self driven restaurant (not that he has time to)

2. Knows how to do eyeliner better than you do, different kind of wings too, don’t ask why.

3. Takes care of his nails, it’s really random but like I feel he would have certain day(s) every week where he would only cut his nails during. Also he files them and takes care of them with nail oil.

4. likes flowers, very very much.

5. Biggest bully ever during secondary school. I see many people who romanticize him during that time but like I personally feel he would be the biggest bully ever who would call other people ‘gay’ as an insult & laughs at slightly chubby people specifically girls, and says every other slur there is in the book.

6. Only wears black socks.

7. Doesn’t use products of companies who animal test.

8. Prefers gold over silver.

9. I feel like he would make you buy him clear lipglosses he can use, bc like he want to be looking pretty with shiny lips n everything, but like not too much? He only wants shiny lips so he wouldn’t ask for red or pink glosses for example. He wants to hold on to his masculinity 💀

10. Has the mentality of Arab guys. Toxic, mansplains / manhandles everything, annoying, attractive & doesn’t show their emotions bc they’re alpha bros 💀💀

11. Doesn’t like earbuds, prefers headphones.

12. Has peanut allergy, idk why.

13. Has been to every single country in the world. Except a few 😬 ifykyk

14. Super interested in politics, like very and extremely.

15. Him and his friends went through the “I’m homiesexual” era, it was cringe but fun, he would laugh at himself everything he remembers it.

16. So this might be controversial but he would never, AND I MEAN NEVER call his partner “Teddy bear” 💀💀 this is Bakugou we are talking about, he wouldn’t even call his child that, those words would never escape his mouth not even ironically.

17. A very clean and organized person.

18. Has a 10 year journal, yep 👍

19. Believes in one higher power, like god, I don’t think he would be Hindu or Buddhist more of like Christian, Jew or Muslim. He believes in only one higher power, and that higher power is different from mankind.

20. Very academically smart but very stupid otherwise.

21. Really good at ice skating ? ⛸️

22. has a big attractive sexy nose, don’t ask any questions.

23. Brushes his teeth 3 times a day. After he eats breakfast, before he sleeps & after dinner.

24. Has a black phone.

24. Has a car collection, Porsches, Lamborghinis, Teslas & limousines, etc.

25. Absolutely loses his mind if one of his many cars gets a single little scratch.

26. Loves to watch ASMR restocking videos on social medias. He would even watch a compilation of them on YouTube.

27. Cringes whenever he visits someone who have a ‘home sweet home’ carpet.

28. Loves cats.

29. Had a leather jacket, motorcycle, all girls are the same & ‘why do good girls like bad guys’ phase, he absolutely regrets his life.

30. Loves cartoon shows, his favorite are adventure time, the amazing world of gumball & we bare bears.

[hurtspideyparker]

Why do you love Peter Parker? Do you think he deserves to be happy? (I want him to but no pressure, I’m just curious about what you think)

Peter Parker the light of my life, the gold in the sky and the glimmer at night, my inspiration, my gem, the ache in my heart.

I love Peter because for one he is so nerdy and sarcastic. I adore how quick-witted he is; like obviously he's a genius in physics and chemistry (and just in general), but being able to come up with funny remarks and stabbing insults while in the middle of a fight genuinely makes him so intelligent. And also when he uses his intellect IN a fight, like with Dr. Strange and geometry in the mirror dimension. Don't get me started on comic book Peter because he's created technology worth billions and at times outsmarted Tony Stark, Reed Richards, Hank Pym... he's just insane. 

I also just adore how geeky and awkward he is. He may be an insanely cool and beloved superhero but he also stutters when he talks to girls, geeks over Star Wars, and builds computers for fun. Peter Parker has superhuman reflexes but will also trip over his own feet. It's just incredibly endearing.

Personally I like Tom Holland's Peter the most because of how young and goofy he is. I want to see him be awkward, weird, shy, young, stupid. I enjoy seeing the contrast of inexperience and extreme power he possesses when in battle. It also makes the angst more delicious because that's a literal baby who's just been stabbed, crushed, beaten and bruised. 

The sheer New York of him too. Accent, attitude, proud and polite. He is a friendly neighbourhood hero! He watches out for the little guy! I feel like it's not something we see with many heroes. They usually focus on the big issues and major villains, but Peter is willing to help old ladies cross the street or prevent muggings. It's really sweet and simple. And when New York repays the favour? Top tier!!! He is the people's princess <3. I love that for him it's all worth it- every single person, citizen, problem. It's worth his time. 

Then there's his morality and self-control. One thing about Peter is that he's insanely strong and deadly. He's constantly holding himself back because he doesn't want to kill anybody. So in every fight not only is he battling the sensory overwhelm and keeping track of his enemies attacks, but he's also remembering to hold back his punches and kicks. He's vocally anti-murder and that's always been a really strong theme for him. It's what makes the moments where he does consider murder so much heavier. If a man who's constantly performing self-control and actively choosing to not do harm is pushed so far as to end a life? Terrifying. Peter chooses good over and over again; he spares the villain, sides with redemption, finds the solution- he chooses peace. I enjoy that for all the joyful, sweet, and bright energy he brings, there's this deep rageful darkness within him. The moments it shines through really remind us of how much wrath and trauma he really possesses.

In every universe Peter loses the things he loves most and still somehow keeps moving forward, finds the courage to still be Spider-Man. I think it says a lot about him that he can be beaten and broken so many times and still come out virtuous. His optimism, that hunger and responsibility for good? Just unmatched. So eager to do what's right that it ends up being his hamartia. It's actually pretty beautiful. 

And at the end of the day, Peter Parker is selfless. The hurt, loss, risks. All he does is give and give to make sure others are safe. He'll give up his own opportunities and happiness for the greater good every single time. He's an absolute sweetheart who will never pick himself. That's why I love Peter Parker.

So do I think he DESERVES happiness? UM, NOBODY DESERVES IT MORE THAN HIM. He's done so much for everyone, he's more than earned some happiness in return. He deserves to be happy and healthy for the rest of his life, to be at MIT with his best friends, in love, to have parental figures that DON'T DIE. 

Now do I WANT him to be happy... let's just say he looks really pretty in red and blue.

I want my man bloody and bruised, red rimmed eyes and voice cracking over tears. He's my favourite person in the universe and unfortunately for him I love angst so... yes I want him happy so he can then be sad again >:). No but seriously he deserves to be happy but bro can not catch a break (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

[doubleddenden]

Damn the more I hear about Velma the worst it gets. This saddens me because I've been watching Scooby since before I could talk :(

Mainly what I'm seeing is that someone has contempt for the series + their own ideas for their own incredibly generic show and rather than make something unique, they're just insulting an established series.

My biggest gripes so far:

1. How tf do you got a Scooby Doo show without Scooby Doo? Is he too kiddy for your generic ugly adult cartoon?

2. Shaggy- oh sorry, NORVILLE. Look, I have no problem with the race thing- my literal main issue is that he's called SHAGGY for a reason. How hard is it to give him thick hair? On top of that they make him an actual druggie- let's pretend there's not some subtle racism behind making the perceived 'stoner' of the group black- it's boring. Yes yes we know the gang is a bunch of stoners, but isn't it funnier when it's just IMPLIED? Isn't it funnier that a man just REALLY FUCKING LOVES DOG TREATS and is willing to risk his life on a regular basis for god damn DOG TREATS? Instead they just turn him into yet another Seth Rogan tier predictable disappointment

3. The overall mischaracterization from what I'm seeing just... sucks, and again, I think part of that comes from a contempt for the series. You don't have to make the characters assholes to make them likeable! I know Rick and Morty and Seth McFarland have poisoned the well for a lot of people but you really don't!

Across the franchise there's plenty of fun ways to interpret the characters:

Fred: himbo that loves his friends, dad friend barely holding it together, obsessed with traps- take your pick, none of these are spoiled boring asshole rich kid.

Daphne: if you're opposed to damsel in distress, how about the cool martial artist fashionista made prevalent in the What's New Scooby Doo series or the live action movies? What about being a good reporter? Hell, even her goofy dorky self in Be Cool Scooby Doo is better than the stereotypical snooty popular girl. Props at least for keeping the red hair.

"Norville" is not a self friend zoning beta male and he's not really obsessed with drugs. Literally the man across DECADES of this franchise is ridiculously talented. Ventriloquism, improv acting, gymnast and athlete- seriously, why do you think they have him and the dog constantly running away from monsters and leading them into traps? The man was literally so good at that that he became a COACH. for MONSTERS. Let's also not forget that he was a race car driver! And had a hot girlfriend! In fact, fuck this friend zoned beta male shit- Shaggy literally pulls more girls (and men I think) in the entire franchise than the others COMBINED. If anything he should have dense harem protagonist energy. I'm talking more than Velma, dude also pulled her LITTLE SISTER- and she was okay with it because she knows he's a good guy(mind the AUs)! Pulled a girl that was kinda a monster fucker for him specifically when he was a werewolf, an actual fucking alien, several foreign girls of various nationalities, several average girls, a crazy but hot redneck girl that tried to SCHWOOSCH his bones after seeing the red shirt ONCE, pretty sure he did something good for Daphne to hang out with him for so long with just a bunch of dogs and a random kid they picked up, very sure actual monsters fell for him- and he's a nerd! He and his beloved best friend the talking dog are massive nerds! I reckon people still latch onto that and think he's the stereotypical nerd but no, no, Shaggy has so much going for him! Not to mention- not to mention! Animal lover! Doy! How do you miss that? He's always paired with the animals! The man is a collective family friend of the entire Doo clan! Every time there's a guest appearance with a non human entity, he's hanging out with them!

Velma... alright look. I'm about to say something real controversial. Real controversial. You ready? She is kinda boring and bland. She's smart and a good investigator, but really? This is who you base the show on? Recently she was allowed to be bisexual- that's great! She's well read, well informed, and if you want to skip the bitchy "its me or the dog" persona from Mystery Inc or the snooty geek from Be Cool, you could fall back to the quiet but cute and thoughtful personality she had in A Pup Named Scooby Doo. If not, she's just boring. I feel like most of the hype for her comes from memes or the people that think they're unique for finding her more attractive than Daphne (you're not btw). Like what does she do that the others cannot do? I'm pretty sure Daphne can do her job but without the min max on intelligence and some points in kicking ass. In fact, why are Fred and Daphne the assholes when Velma in TWO separate series has been the judgey bitch and overall asshole? If anything she should would fit the perfect "beta incel self perceived victim that's actually just a massive douche" trope!

And Scooby. First off fuck the writers for not including my boi. Second, you really couldn't make an adult comedy of a talking dog? If Scooby said fuck- scuze me, 'ruck'- I'd cry laughing! If Scooby was the druggie and Shaggy was normal, that'd be hilarious! Literally if they took every negative trait they forced onto the others and put it onto Scooby, you'd literally have a prime adult cartoon character right there. He's a gag character! Utilize it! I know in the recent series he's been pushed to the side for the others, but he's literally a comedic gold mine waiting to happen! Make him an arsonist! Make him have questionable opinions! It'd be hilarious because he's a literal dog that can't speak understandably half the time!

Look, if you want to make an "adult scooby doo" then I guess I can't stop you. Velma ain't how you do it though.

Btw before anyone jumps on me to defend the new show, the creator of the series supports JKR soooo

[xenonmoon]

I accidentally stumbled upon some Spider-man 2099 comics and since I can't watch across the spiderverse in theatres (photosensitivity sucks) and Miguel O'Hara has become a constant presence on my dash/home in almost literally every social I have I decided to give it a go and see who this guy is and why is the internet so obsessed with him all of a sudden I wrote down some notes while I was reading so here we go. Xenon reacts to Spider-man 2099

It's giving me a loooot of cyberpunk and blade runner vibes from here and ngl I dig it

I already notice the suit is a little different but not too much? The spikes in the forearms here are less noticeable at least. And I didn't remember ever seeing the webbing

I love this pose

Oh my god this is so me fr fr

PFFTDHFS I MADE A LOUD SNORT ok I like this guy

He seems like that type of 90s savage-edgy-I-hate-everyone guy, so far considering the context he's kinda funny

I don't know how much they've changed about his backstory in atsv so I'm writing it all down as it's told in the comics

So his father was a scientist working for this Alchemax and the corporation kinda groomed both since they were children to become their top tier geneticists and work for them. They've invested a lot on Miguel and they use it to have a hold on him, since he's the only guy not addicted to the Rapture which is a very nasty and genetically bound (?) drug only Alchemax is allowed to distribute.

The corporations is running genetic experiments to enhance human abilities and all of that using animals as source, the latest project was an attempt to replicate what happened to Spider-Man in ma marketable way

Except they've become pretty savage with it and started doing experiments on humans (starting with criminals) BEFORE it's confirmed to be safe. And the last one miserably failed (or grandiosely succeeded, depending on the point of view - the guy actually came back with super strength and all of that but he was a heavily disfigured mutant who tired to strangle O'Hara and died short after).

So Miguel said fuck this shit I'm out

(cw: drugs from there on)

... Except they poisoned his drink with a dose of Rapture and how he's screwed. "oh no worries Miguel we're not forcing you to stay" my ass.

fucking bastardssssssssss

FUCKING BASTARDSSSS

honestly though "rapture" as a name choice is sooooo 90s. I remember reading Infinity Crusade (1993) a few months ago and there too they made a big deal about something they called "the rapture". And goddess and holiness and penitence and sinners and REPENTTTT and other overly Christian stuff like demons that was littering everything I've read from that time (which is just all the Moon Knight stuff that got out in that period but-)

the satanic panic hit hard huh

So anyway if Miguel doesn't do anything to fight this rapture thing he's royally screwed and forced to keep working on them

So he remembers that for lab tests he was using his own genetic material so he's got a full backup of it pre-rapture and he's planning to use the machines at the lab to overwrite the changes the drug made

sound good to me, quite a solid plan

Except this guy, who Miguel insults regularly on daily basis, decides to take his petty vengeance switching the "clean" O'Hara backup with the one they're experimenting with for the spider project.

Well this is fine

AND ON TOP OF THAT HE'S TRYING TO SHIFT THE BLAME ON HIM

also naked Miguel O'Hara gents, you're welcome

Uh-oh

IT'S MORBING TIME

honestly I know vampires were massively popular in the 90s and it's kinda obvious they wanted to ride that wave and use the aesthetics to appeal to vampire fans and-

works for me

also how do those claws work? It feels a bit weird to see both nails AND claws, sort of like when you realise centaurs have 2 ribcages. Bit more redundant though, would've made more sense if he'd lost his original nails. Oh well.

He's me when I'm at my parents' house and my mother throws me out of my bed on Sunday morning at 8ish because THE EARLY BIRD CATCHES THE WORM DON'T YOU THINK YOU'VE SLEPT ENOUGH and I'm just left there confused af trying to figure out where I am, when I am, what day and year this is and what's exactly happening in my life

MOOD

big eh for the sexualised hologram house assistant, ok it's the 90s and it's a thing of the genre and all of that but I've read too many papers about sociological consequences of female-coded robots or assistants (in short: encourages closely associating the slave/servant role to women and it ends up affecting real women too. it's bad bad) to not be judging this very hard

His first thoughts about them claws was going to the bathroom and picking his nose, so valid of him

honest to god if I had claws I'd be constantly fidgeting with them pressing the fingertip to make them come out like you do with cats.

That's it for part 1, I will probably make a part 2 when I continue reading them

Honestly they suffer a bit from being born in the 90s but I'm enjoying them so far and I like the character. If he hasn't changed too much in the movie then ok I get it now

[emeliejeannie]

I just realized that I haven't done one of these for Detroit yet! so here we go! (it's all Kara crew btw🫠)

• Kara and Alice built the blanket fort in Alice's room before Kara was broken and reset for the first time. They used to read together there a lot. (and ofc they built a new one at Rose's brother's house, then at their own place)

• Alice started calling Kara and Luther "mom & dad" a while after escaping to Canada.

• Alice has a lot of memories from Detroit that Kara doesn't have anymore. Which makes both of them sad. So Alice decided she would share them via touch link (is that what it's called???), even though Kara would see them from Alice's POV. It made her cry, seeing everything she forgot, plus all the times she broke to protect Alice from Todd.

• Luther developed a habit of singing after settling down in Canada. Which nobody minds, since he's got an amazing voice.

• Luther likes to tease Kara about her height sometimes, just in good fun. she always gives him the desired (silly fuax-offended) reaction.

• As much as I'm a LuthAra (???) shipper, I'm also a sucker for platonic co-parenting. Just two best friends raising a kid together.

• Kara eventually discovered that she can be a bit awkward at times. Stumbling on her words, not knowing what to do in certain situations (she just awkwardly smiles) which she found weird, with being "a perfect android" and all.

• Luther grew to love being a silly dad, making dad jokes, getting on people's nerves and all.

• Kara has a hard time saying "No" to Alice a lot. She wants to spoil her as much as possible, since she deserves it after all. (Luther has to keep her in check sometimes)

• Alice forces Luther to have tea parties with her sometimes. Kara finds it hilarious, seeing Luther in a plastic tiara and boa.

• When Alice gets bored, she likes to cling to Luther. Making him carry her on his back while doing chores and whatnot.

• "You're adopted" is the go-to insult in this family. (I don't care that they're androids, I think it's funny)

• Alice and Adam grew close after a while, they're like siblings now.

• Alice is an expressive reader. So at times, she lets out shocked gasps, or a loud "WHAT!?" or "NO!" out of nowhere while reading, which scares her parents half to death.

• Kara has the habit of doing chores when stressed. Vacuuming, dusting, scrubbing the counters etc. When Kara starts deep cleaning, Luther knows that he has to pull her aside to breathe.

• Rose and Kara gossip sometimes, about the neighbors and other parents. They're top tier moms, so they do be judging.

[the-ghost-bracket]

The Snatcher propaganda:

"[spoilers for the game's story] the ghost of a prince whose wife left him in a basement to die because she was jealous of him hanging out with another woman. he tries to be scary and terrorize the main character but is actually just a sweetie deep down who makes you run his errands for him. by the end of his levels you force him to sign a bff contract

he's also voiced by luke sizemore/yungtown who is a musician i love and who kindly directed me to one of my fav games of all time <3"

"Cringe ass naenae lawyer. He was a prince now he just traps anyone who walks into his forest to steal their soul. Also a divorce victim."

"Snatcher is an evil ghost dude that is the king of Subcon Forest. He steals souls and makes you do his chores basically. His design is top-tier and he has a kickass boss theme to go along with him. He's also divorced and pretty much adopts the main character, hat kid, lmao"

"just a real bastard tbh. a slight scallawag. Also he tries to murder Hat Kid (the protag) throughout the entire story then basically ends up semi-adopting her but refuses to admit he cares about her at all. he is literally described as a tsundere by Hat Kid in the Steam trading cards which is still wild to me. Also, like any good ghost, he has a sad backstory, which is about being locked up in a basement and slowly frozen to death over a misunderstanding with his wife (or girlfriend? unclear). which is why he has trust issues and doesn't want to care about anyone else again. He's even got a legion of evil minions he sends stolen mail to to make them feel cared about, which is of course couched in a thick layer of insults to distract from the fact that he clearly cares about them a lot if he goes through all this effort for them. anyways, he's goofy, he's evil, and I want to both hug him and punch him at the same time. What more could anyone want?"

"The mysterious, soul-stealing, shadowy apparition of Subcon Forest who ropes any unsuspecting victims unfortunate enough to step into his traps into completing his contracts… which are really just his chores he doesn’t feel like doing (including but not limited to: cleaning out a well, cleaning out a toilet, robbing his ex, delivering mail). Despite his immorality, he’s fairly jovial about the whole “being dead” ordeal, often cracking jokes about his own mortality (and the high mortality rate of his contractors).

Worth noting that, despite being technically invulnerable, he gets beaten up by an 11 year old who then deems him her best friend solely to piss him off. A Hat in Time is a great game."