#canon divergence au: undercut

[murmel-malt]

Hedaera Targaryen - 98 AC

Viserys Targaryen x Hedaera Targaryen (OFC) prev / next summery: my answer to the question: what if Viserys and Daemon had a little sister? canon divergent dance of the dragons au featuring canon and original characters.

chapter summery: Viserys and Hedaera welcome their first baby.

A/N: note that english is not my first language so there will probably be some grammar mistakes.

98 - Kingslanding

The last 24 hours have been the most terrifying hours in Hedaera’s life.

She is exhausted; her entire body hurts and feels as fragile as glass. It craves sleep but Daera doesn’t dare to close her eyes, afraid that she will not open them again if she does. She is just laying there as the maids and Maesters move around the room and watches them through a haze, her mind sluggish and desperately trying and failing to catch up. Was this truely how her life was supposed to be? What her grandmother and father want for her? Do they hate her so much? A shiver runs down her spine, leaving goose flesh in its wake, despite the sweltering temperature in and outside the room. This is all just too much. 

A sharp wail cuts through the air and suddenly Daera is wide awake. She sits up with what remains of her strength; the strength of a girl of ten and four just having gone through labor. Almost desperately she looks around the room. She hears her, she knows she is here.

“Where is she?” She asks, voice hoarse from having screamed her lungs out earlier. “Where is my daughter?”

“Please, princess”, the maid soothes her. “Save your strength.” Daera only growls and slaps her hand away when she reaches out.

“Where is my daughter?” she repeats angrily. “I want to see her. Now!” She cranes her neck and leans forward, trying to get a view of the rest of the room. “Where is she? Get her now!” Her voice is rising and before long she is yelling.

“There is no reason for worry, Princess”, an elderly Maester steps up to her. “Your daughter is alive and well.” Daera glares, takes the collar man’s robes in a vice-like grip and yanks him down with a strength that surprises both her and the man.

“Then bring her to me. Right. This. Instant. You old, useless bag of bones”, she orders. Her voice is rising with every word until she is screaming in his face. It rings through the room and several maids flinch. Immediately there is a commotion outside. Voices arguing before the door is thrown open and her brother and Grandmother enter, followed by Aemma and Gael.

“Daera?” Aemma hurries around the bed and to her side instantly; she has tears in her eyes and her hands are shaking when she grips Hedaera’s. Viserys is paler than usual and she sees the fear in his eyes when they meet hers. He is nervously wringing his hands and looking much younger than the one and twenty years he is.

“I want to see her. Tell them to bring her to me”, she says, the tears she feels prickling in her eyes undoubtedly undercutting her authoritative tone. But they do the trick; they always do. Alysanne rounds on the Maester, yelling at the maids to bring the baby in while Viserys, much to her surprise, comes to her side. He carefully sits by her bed and after a moment of hesitation he reaches out and positions the pillows for her to sit up right in the bed.

“Are you alright?” 

No, Daera thinks. She doesn’t feel alright, not at all, but something in her tells her that she is not supposed to say that so she remains quiet. She sees her brother swallow and the tears in Aemma’s eyes threaten to spill over.

“We were so afraid for you, Daera”, she sniffles. “I’m sorry I left.” Hedaera shakes her head and pulls their intertwined hands closer to her. It wasn’t like Aemma had wanted to leave. In fact she had fought the servants that had tried to remove her from the room more than Daera had ever seen her cousin fight anyone before.

“How are you feeling?” Gael’s quiet voice asks as she kneels next to Aemma and even more quietly adds: “It sounded like you were dying.” It certainly felt like that, Daera thinks and reaches to squeeze her aunt’s hand with her free one. Then her eyes meet her brother’s.

“Please don’t make me do this again.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, only audible to the two of them the way she is turned away from Aemma and Gael. She knows it is foolish to hope this will be the first and last time she will have to do this but maybe, just maybe Viserys cares more for her than for having an heir.

“I-”

“Hedaera? My sweet?” Alysanne is standing at the food of her bed, watching Aemma fawn over her. Hedaera had cursed and screamed at the Queen until the Maester insisted that for the sake of her granddaughter’s health it would be better for her to leave until the labor was over. Alysanne had tried to argue but quickly complied when Daera had thrown the music box on her nightstand at her. After that everything that was not a pillow had been removed from her reach.

No screams or curses are hurled at the Queen now, Daera is far too tired for that, and a small part of her even wants her grandmother to comfort her like she used to before everything fell apart. She wants Alysanne to take her into her arms and promise her that everything will be alright, that this is just a bad dream. But it isn’t and her grandmother hasn’t lifted a finger to prevent it. By now Daera has understood that nothing short of her running away could have prevented her marriage to Viserys, not even the Queen, but it doesn’t change the fact that she hadn’t even tried and Daera can never forgive her for that.

Alysanne deflates slightly when her granddaughter only acknowledges her with a brief look and the hopeful light in her eyes dims. She stands there, hands clasped in front of her and watches quietly as a maid finally places the bundled up baby, her great-granddaughter, in Hedaera’s waiting arms. She marvels at how small she is, at the soft tufts of silver hair and the sour expression gracing her little face and a smile grows on her own as she traces her little nose with her finger.

“It is a girl, my Prince”, the maid explains to Viserys and Daera watches his expression carefully. She knows the King has been going on and on about an heir for Viserys, to secure the line of succession. A male heir. And Viserys must have seen her thoughts reflected in her eyes because suddenly he averts his gaze from her’s and Daera’s heart sinks. She will have to do this again, and again until her brother has the son Jaehaerys wants for him. 

“What are you going to name her?” Alysanne asks.

“Her name will be Rhaenyra”, Viserys announces before Daera can say anything and then cringes a bit at her glare. But her anger is short-lived. 

Her brother rises, nodding at the servant hovering by the door and Daera follows his gaze with furrowed brows. Two servants carry in a metal contraption and place it next to the cradle that had been put up next to the window by Daera’s bed. She can feel the warmth radiating from it and grows more confused by the second, until the lid is opened to reveal a yellowish dragon egg placed in a bed of gliming coal. Her heart nearly stops and with wide eyes she looks to Viserys for confirmation. 

She doesn’t know Viserys’ reason for this - perhaps he had thought the baby would be a boy; or perhaps he picked the egg without care if it’s boy or girl; perhaps it is for his ego or perhaps because he knows how hurt Hedaera was for being denied a dragon. But whatever his reason is, she is grateful. “You should hold her”, she tells Viserys and after a moment of hesitation he allows Daera to place their daughter in his arms. He looks very awkward holding her but there is a small smile on his face.

“Father will want to meet his granddaughter”, Viserys says carefully. He has of course noticed her coldness towards their grandmother and father but he has chosen not to comment on it and even seems to cringe a bit himself whenever he witnesses her almost hostile politeness with them. He knows it is because of their marriage and perhaps he is afraid that she will treat him the same if he speaks up. He certainly would no longer be able to pretend their marriage is a happy one like that of their parents.

“He can wait”, Daera decides tensely. The exhaustion is creeping back into her bones and her eyes are drooping already. She sees Viserys hesitate and glares at him. “Do not take her to him without me.” Hedaera will not let their father meet Rhaenyra without reminding him what he did to his own daughter to get this grandchild.

“Alright”, Viserys relents, just like she knew he would.

It took far longer to get ready than Daera had liked, but now she is clean, dressed, and ready to present her daughter to her father. Her silver-golden hair is pulled back in a simple half-up, the strands braided and curled up on the back of her head, and her yellow-gold dress flows comfortably around her. She is as comfortable as she can be with her entire body still sore and hurting.

She insists on carrying Rhaenyra all the way from her chambers to their father’s. Her arms already feel heavy but she will not show any weakness, especially with Viserys side-eying her worriedly. But he is smart enough to hold his tongue.

Their royal father has evidently been busy with his work as the King’s Hand when she and Viserys are admitted to his chambers. The desk he sits at is filled with stacks of paper, letters and ledgers that nearly get thrown off when he jumps to his feet to greet them.

“Father”, Viserys greets him with a smile, while Daera courtesies - as best as she is able to with a child in her arms.

“Prince Baelon”, she greets him and her brother cringes. Her father’s joyful expression falls instantly and it seems all warmth leaves the room at her cold greeting.

“It is a girl”, Viserys tries to distract him. 

“Her name is Rhaenyra”, Daera adds.

“She is healthy?” He asks, looking at Viserys, pointedly avoiding his daughter’s gaze.

“She is”, Viserys assures him. “The Maesters said she takes after her mother. Apparently Daera has given them a hard time as well.” At that Baelon finally meets his daughter’s gaze.

“I am glad to see you are well, Daera”, he tells her. 

Undoubtedly he is remembering her mother’s death. Princess Alyssa had labored hours to bring Hedaera and her brother Aegon into the world. Of the three of them, it is only Daera that lives now. Her mother died the same year, barely three months after giving birth and Daera’s twin Aegon followed shortly before their first name day. Was that to be her fate someday as well?

She steels her heart against a sudden onset of emotions. The exhaustion has made her weak. Just like she had wished to find comfort in her grandmother’s arms she now wishes to feel her father’s embrace again and curses herself. They did this to her! It was her father that set her on this path knowing the dangers it would entail and did not care enough to save her from it. 

“Would my Prince like to hold his granddaughter?”

“Yes”, Prince Baelon says with quiet dejection, “please.”

a/n: a lot of anger can be stored in a 14 y/o and she is going to make everyone around her as miserable as she is. and she now also has a baby daughter. Welcome to the shitty world, Rhaenyra Targaryen; you'll have a great-ol time.

[heliopauseentertainments]

Relentless Optimism

Part of MegOp Week 2024 Prompt - Day 2: Secret/Sacred Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationships: Megatron/Orion Pax

Characters: Megatron, Orion Pax

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, AU of an AU, Xenoreligion, Weddings

Summary: In which Orion proudly takes up the mantle of Lord Protector. Precursor and canonical to An Unfamiliar Battlefield, but can be read alone.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

The music in the sanctuary wasn’t joyous, but rather somber, not unlike attending a funeral or a public execution. The notes were slow and low, occasionally undercut by a gentle drum beat. A very strange choice for a wedding, in Orion’s opinion.

He waited in an antechamber, the priests—all current or former military officers—polishing and perfuming his armor, not unlike preparing a body for the smelter.

Cameras watched in the corners of the room.

This ought to have been a happy occasion, but the high priest, unfortunately named Valve, had insisted that it was the traditional atmosphere for this particular temple. While being the Lord Protector of a Prime, any Prime, was an honor, ascension for the Fallen was a punishment.

Orion would likely die and it would likely be at the Fallen’s hands, as Valve had reminded him that morning. This would be his first funeral and the start of his sacred duty to tether a monster.

“Purported monster,” Orion silently reminded himself. His spark spun dizzyingly in his chest, but not from fear.

The last vessel of the Fallen had slain his lover, but this was different person now. They weren’t reincarnations, not like the other Primes.

The dirge continued to play outside. It was beautiful, even if tonally dissonant.

No guests had been invited. Only the priests, the jailers, were present to witness the formalizing of the union. He had never wanted a big wedding anyway; too much hullabaloo.

Orion had met Megatron before, briefly. A long time ago, when Megatron had been briefly in custody for alleged involvement in a bar fight. Orion had been the one to authorize his release.

He doubted Megatron remembered him. If he did, he likely only remembered Orion as the police captain that had taken mercy on him. At least they weren’t complete strangers.

Back then, Orion had read some of his writings, found them intriguing, but had failed to keep in touch like he had planned to and then Megatron had disappeared. After the miner’s riot and a report of a stolen transport, his whereabouts were unknown. Orion had always wondered what had become of him… until the news announced the installation of a new incarnation of the Fallen.

And there on the screen… the mild-mannered mech whose friendship Orion had sorely regretted missing out on. How he had gotten here, however, Orion couldn’t begin to imagine.

On impulse, Orion had applied for the open role of Lord Protector. He had long-since become discontent with his work in Rodion, like the holding cells were merely revolving doors. At least he could undo one regret.

The priests packed away their supplies and led him out into the dark sanctuary. It was lit only by small lamps, the thin blue beams of targeting lasers, and a powerful searchlight trained on a gray figure in the center of the room, standing next to Valve in his regalia, a shawl and robe—black save for purple geometric embroidery.

Megatron had also been polished for the occasion, but his wrists were bound in cuffs. Orion wasn’t sure if those were ceremonial or if they truly believed there was a risk.

Orion could hardly imagine Megatron hurting anyone, let alone doing anything to earn a place here. They could talk soon….

This looked far more like an execution than a wedding, though they were missing a headsman.

Spark spinning wildly in his chest, Orion was made to stop next to Megatron.

Megatron glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes but said nothing. Perhaps it was too much to expect that the excitement was mutual.

Valve began to recite the liturgy in one of the old tongues that Orion didn’t recognize, holding something small and shining high over his head. A key maybe, perhaps to the cuffs. Orion had never been religious enough to bother learning the liturgical languages, but the sounds were familiar, comforting rhythms, even if the meaning was lost on him.

Unfortunately, ever since Orion had arrived and won his place by challenging Megatron to single, unarmed combat—Valve had, regrettably, forbidden it—he had hardly had a chance to see or talk with Megatron. Months of combat training, refreshing the skills he already had and adding some new, had taken the place of any sort of courtship.

No more though, no more would he be prevented from rekindling their acquaintance and… maybe… hopefully more. Not after today, not after it was all official.

Valve instructed him to hold out his hands.

The item Valve had presumably blessed was placed in Orion’s palm, a lightweight metallic object. Cool to the touch.

A key.

“Repeat after me,” Valve ordered.

The words that followed formed a vow, but a very strange vow, one Orion could never have imagined.

Nodding, he turned and cautiously took hold of one of Megatron’s bound wrists.

“By removing these restraints,” he said, the words heavy in his mouth, “I take their place.”

The cuffs fell to the floor with an echoing thud as Orion clasped their now free hands together.

He had failed to help Megatron before; he would not fail again.

[citylighten]

My Pietro and Sal gameplay have both been interesting and led to me having so many different headcanons. I’ve always struggled playing Fallout 4 because my main gripe is that I can’t recreate ANY oc want due to them having a set backstory and dialogue that reinforces certain plot things, but Pietro has a pretty good Sole Survivor AU. He's canon divergent though. More undercut!

-Pietro Impellizzeri was an notorious and powerful gangster Pre-War. He’s similar to Vito Corleone of The Godfather in the sense that he immigrated to America as a child and rose to the top of his community’s underworld.

-He had crossed paths with the human Nick Valentine on numerous occasions over ‘missing people’ as well as a ‘dirty money trail,’ but Pietro always knew how to throw the detective off. They were neither enemies nor friends, just merely people who kept a tense eye on one another.

-As a Boss, in terms of his conduct, Pietro was a composed, fair man but he was also known to be ruthless when the situation called for it. Outside of public events, he was seldom seen. If his men saw him it meant something bad was going to happen. Despite having such affluence and respect, Pietro's over-indulgence in the finest things (liquor, media, women) kept him blind to the things going wrong in his personal life.

-Pietro was married to Jasmine, who was a pinup model before marrying him. Their marriage was based on sex, possession and material interests. Ultimately, Pietro was a largely inattentive husband due to the demanding nature of keeping things afloat in his criminal empire.

-As a nuclear war approached, Jasmine began a series of affairs with men. Some powerful, some were Pietro’s enemies. Her wrongdoings ranged from supplying large sums of money to her lovers, to telling inside secrets. There came a moment, days before the bomb dropped, when Pietro (at his limit) considered murdering his wife. However, this did not come to be as the bombs fell over America.

-Needless to say, when Kellogg shoots Jasmine, Pietro feels guilt. Yes, he was plotting to murder her, but he knew that line of thinking wasn’t right. He doesn’t come into the Wasteland in the pursuit of being a better, kinder man, instead his decent actions come largely from the need to survive and understand the world he’s in.

Whereas Sal comes out Vault 111 ready to murder and massacre anyone in Eve’s name, Pietro’s mentality is: “I need to understand what civilization is like now. I need to know who is in charge of things.” Especially because since Pietro has been at the top for so long, it’s been years since he was doing dirty work for himself, let alone personally killing others on a continuous basis.

-When Pietro meets Nick Valentine there’s tension. But, they recognize they need each other to find Shaun, however there isn’t full trust between the men. Gradually, as the two spend more time together, Nick believes that Pietro can become a good man in this new world and often pushes the idea that Pietro is kind. Pietro does not believe himself to be kind, because he’s not burying the man he used to be before the bombs fell.

-There are times when Nick and Pietro split and his companions become MacCready, who reminds him of a lackey he would’ve used Pre-War, and Preston, who is yet another character who believes there’s an inner goodness in him. As a result of Preston and Nick - plus an envy for the mayor of Diamond City, Pietro decides to invest time in building the Minutemen and building settlements to lead. Despite possessing aspirations to lead, Pietro is shifting morally. Often, Nick helps him on Minutemen quests which strengthens their relationship.

-While helping settlements, Pietro meets Rosaria at Covenant. The woman is a secretary for Jacob Orden, the town’s mayor. Even when Pietro seems like he could be trouble for the settlement, she helps him learn more about the Amelia Stockton case with her insider information. After that, she leaves Covenant to affiliate herself with the Minutemen, which allows Pietro to see her more often. Time with Rosaria [who enjoys farming] has Pietro nostalgic about Sicily and as a consequence, he grows to enjoy things about nature as well as treasure the present he gets to spend with her.

-And that’s all for now because I haven’t completed his run yet 😘

[seekers-who-are-lovers]

Haunted

Rei Suwa was his name, who kept his hair in a ponytail that showed his undercut on both sides. A lone strand fell on his otherwise stern face, which added some mysterious touch. So dark, so handsome, Kazuki thought. As for the flat, it was too cheap for a beautiful abode listed on the jiko bukken* section of the real estate website. A very good deal, which he never dared to question why. The building resembled a luxurious hotel. Each unit was blessed with its own terrace. The glass walls and windows added to its modernity. He could imagine the rays of sunlight that would enter the lodgings once the blinds were drawn. He could see how happy Miri and him would be already embarking on a new chapter of their lives.

Read the rest on AO3.

First of all, this fiction is an AU-canon divergence from the series. Everyone here is out of character, except for Miri. Ever since I’ve read about jiko bukken it doesn’t leave my mind. Recently it is becoming a fad for foreigners to purchase a property in Japan. One prominent Swedish male model even made a YouTube channel to document his acquisition and renovation in Tokyo where people close to him warned him of these abandoned houses. Both out of superstition and the steep financial woes he’d be in. Also, did you know that there’s a separate rubric of apartments in real estate websites where previous tenants died of unnatural causes (suicide, murder, etc.) ? Usually these flats are discounted for a year. So yes, I’d love the trio to experience it. I don’t know if the outcome is dark enough. (Tagging @plague-of-insomnia, if you’d like to take a look.)

[novantinuum]

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom Rating: G Words: 1.4K~ Summary: A dozen days past, Aryll still remembers exactly where she stood at the precise moment of the Upheaval’s rising… at the precise moment she realized something terrible must have happened to her brother and Zelda. (Minor spoilers for TotK initiating events. Set in the future of a slight canon divergent AU where both Link and his younger sister Aryll wake up on the Great Plateau.)

First TotK fic! This is ridiculously self indulgent and basically written just for my entertainment, lol. If anyone else happens to enjoy this, then cool! That’s simply a bonus.

This fic is a sneak peak at a young adult Aryll. She’s around eighteen or so here.

Also a big F you to tumblr formatting, which no longer allows me to underline text, or even copy underlined text in. Ughh. Y'all just gonna get bolded text where it's supposed to be underlined, sorry.

______

Unspoken Upheavals

A dozen days past, Aryll still remembers exactly where she stood at the precise moment of the Upheaval’s rising.

Everyone does, really. How could one blame them? The mortal psyche does love internalizing such damning, horrifying moments of dread, after all. And over time, with enough traumatic exposure, it simply becomes easier to remember the tragedies and the hardships over life’s gifts and delights.

In those early years of reconstruction after the Calamity’s end, Hyrule’s joy was swiftly undercut by this crushing aura of… unease. Of disbelief. This lingering hunch that their burdens had not truly ceased, not forever. So when people started mysteriously falling ill after venturing near Castle Town’s ruins and the ancient tech excavation sites… when Purah and her new young protégé began looking into that troublesome ‘gloom’ they detected wafting up from the newly unearthed catacombs… when— mere days after her brother and Zelda ventured underground to investigate— the whole castle itself rose up upon a monstrous plume of malice and chunks of ruins began plummeting from the sky… it was hard for people not to fixate on the worst possibilities… to allow this singular, terrifying, historic occurrence to sear itself into their memories forever.

She was in Kakariko at the time, visiting Paya and all the others for a little while before her upcoming trip to the Gerudo region to see her girlfriend. A few hours had passed since Zelda’s last communication, but she wasn’t worried then. After all, Link retrieved the sword from its pedestal under the Great Deku Tree before their departure on this quest. The Blade of Evil’s Bane at the zenith of its power and wielded by the most talented swordsman in all Hyrule simply shouldn’t fail.

Yet fail they did.

Aryll doesn’t have any way to prove her hunch yet, but she fears the Master Sword was destroyed that morning.

As she rushed out from Impa’s home where she was having tea and caught her first glimpse of the massive stone rings careening down towards the village like comets vying to collide with the very skin of the earth— pulsating tails of green energy tracing their calamitous journey towards the surface as her friends and neighbors screamed at their approach— her first instinct as one talented with sight beyond was to tune her mind towards the ancient spirit who dwells within Link’s weapon.

She felt nothing. Nothing but silence, when on any other day she could at minimum pick up on her warm, quiet hum. 

As reliable as ever, Kakariko’s citizens spun into a charitable frenzy after the ruins’ landing, immediately rushing to aid anyone who might’ve been injured by this unexpected upheaval, or to console and assist those whose homes had been destroyed. No fatalities were discovered, thank goodness— not even a wayward cucco’s— but as the hours ticked ever onwards… Aryll simply couldn’t ignore that sinking, grief-stricken feeling that something terrible had happened to her brother. To Zelda, too.

Because if that blade were to be broken, the very spirit within silenced, then— 

__

“Aryll!” the voice before her prompts with a snap of her fingers. “Focus! Stay with me, here.”

She inhales sharply, shaking away all thoughts of the recent past. “Sorry, sorry— what were you saying again?”

Purah huffs, clearly just as stressed and frazzled as she feels right now.

“I was trying to tell you that— based on our current lack of intel— I think it’s time that we officially declare Link and Zelda missing.”

Aryll freezes in her tracks, the very words echoing within her mind unchecked. It takes all of her strength to even halfway retain her composure, to not break down right here and now. 

“Wha— y’mean, this soon?” she says, voice catching a little in her throat.

“Come on, now. Be realistic. It’s been twelve days since the Upheaval. Twelve days with zero contact and zero clues!”

“But— the chasms, if you’d just let me go, let me search down there, I could—“

“Could what?” she returns, tapping her pen against her opposing hand. “Almost die from gloom sickness, like everyone else who’s walked even a few minutes in that pitch black hellscape? I’m telling you the exact same thing I’m telling Josha, and that’s no. You’re too damn valuable to us to go galavanting off into the dark with nothing but your own recklessness to guide you!“

She crosses her arms, reluctantly resigning to this command. 

(For now, at least. She’s sure she’ll find a moment to sneak off sooner than later.)

“What would you have me do, then?”

“First, we’re gonna circulate these missing posters all over Hyrule,” Purah says, slapping her hand upon the thick stack of papers resting on the table beside her. “Every town, every stable… I want every single soul on this gods-forsaken continent to be on the lookout for our princess and your brother. Then, once you’re back, I’m assigning you to Captain Hoz, and the rest of his search party.” She gestures towards the troop in the middle of their drills at the other side of Lookout Landing. “Since you’ve got a real talent with spirits the others don’t have, I’m kinda hoping you might be able to like, y’know… pick up on the subtler details.”

Aryll sighs, knowing exactly what she’s alluding towards. “I’ve already told you— I can’t feel the Master Sword at all. It’s like… that day, a string was cut, and then- poof! Its spirit gone, entirely void from my awareness. I haven’t felt it since.”

“Well, I still haven’t lost hope that it’ll resurface. So let me know the second you feel any differently, will ‘ya?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she nods, and strides forwards to pick up a pile of flyers, as well as a carton of nails and a mallet. “I’ll start my journey at dawn.”

Purah’s expression bends into a faint scowl, that well known glimmer in her eyes betraying a woman deep in thought. “Y’know, it’s a shame ol’ Linky and Zel had our best Purah Pad prototype. Otherwise, I could fit you up with a paraglider and send you on your way in style,” she says, gesturing towards the recently completed Skyview Tower shading the deck from behind. She hums, pressing a lone finger against her chin. “Although… we do have that old spare hanging about in the Hateno lab… it would certainly take a few days, but if I installed all the appropriate driver updates, it should still be able to interface with the terminal…”

Her stomach lurches at the very notion of being launched Din knows how high just for one of Purah’s experiments. “I think I’ll take my horse, thank you.”

“Pah,” the scientist rolls her eyes. “Where’s your spirit of adventure? If Link were here, he’d try it in a heartbeat!”

“Yeah, well… unlike my brother… I don’t actually have a death wish,” she retorts, slipping all the missing poster supplies into her satchel and slinging it over her shoulder. “I’ll take all the stables and villages on the west side of Hyrule, okay?”

“Sounds great! And, hey…”

Aryll pauses right at the edge of the stairs, her hand brushing against the wooden rail.

While it’s simply a fact that her and Purah have never been particularly close, there’s nevertheless a spark of fondness evident in her tone that injects a bit of much needed warmth into her troubled, forlorn heart.

“Be careful out there, will you?”

The faintest echo of a smile whispers across her lips. “You too, Doc.”

__

A dozen days past, Aryll doubts she’ll forget the exact crossroads she passed through when she finally resigned herself to the reality that her brother is missing, possibly dead.

She’s trembling so hard when this belated wave of despair hits that she has to dismount on the side of the path. As patient as ever, her beloved Makk remains still as she leans against his side, sobbing sloppy tears into the thick, soft fabric of his saddle pad. The satchel upon her back grows heavier and heavier, its contents damning proof of the future she was dreading:

A future without Link. Without Zelda. Without the swordsman and and goddess-blooded princess Hyrule relies on to remain intact, in such times of struggle. But moreover… a future without the people she dearly loves.

“Promise me, you stubborn idiots,” she prays aloud, her voice cracking amidst the rawness of her grief. “Promise you’ll come back to us alive…” 

[unhinged-summer-fun]

waiting for the sun

Danktober 2022 Day 14: Role Reversal, Empty, & National I Love You Day.

Civilian!Din Djarin x Mandalorian!F!Reader

Summary: Most of the time, it wasn't your job to do anything but track, hunt, and retrieve, and most importantly, not ask questions. This is the Way, after all. Or at least… It had been.

Word Count: 6594

Warnings: Mild descriptions of injury, blood, and wound care. Topics involving child abduction and cultish brainwashing, grief, and a moment of mild peril.

A/N: Thank you so much to @ezrasbirdie and @pedrosedibles for both having the same icon and being iconic at the same time - you banished my nerves about this work in two fell swoops. I'm so happy you like it!! A very special I Love You Day to you <3 Header and dividers by me. Title comes from the book of poetry "Love and Space Dust" by David Jones: It is not darkness in my heart, just emptiness waiting for the sun. Of all the lies I have ever lived, my favourite was you and I.

Note on canon divergence: Beside the obvious, this AU puts Reader in Din's position for the events of Mandalorian S1 and BOBF S1E05, meaning the excommunication/redemption gauntlet has been thrown down. (She's not sure if she wants to kick it away or not.)

Please let me know what you think, this was super fun to write, and I love how it turned out.

[full danktober list here]

The galaxy was not a friendly place. You’d been doing bounty hunting work for long enough that this fact no longer surprised you. You’d been betrayed too many times to count, been undercut and attacked, even by those in your own tribe. Power was addictive to get, and in the covert, you either had it or someone else did, which was a fact that changed quickly by silent kills and fragile alliances. You understood that no one felt any sense of loyalty toward anybody else, owed nothing to nobody until the moment they had a problem only you could solve. Everyone worked for someone, and you had several someones you had answered to over the course of your life. Most of the time, it wasn't your job to do anything but track, hunt, and retrieve, and most importantly, not ask questions.

This is the Way, after all.

Or at least… It had been.

Before.

The complicated surge of emotion from that line of thinking served as an annoying balm to the steadily-bleeding wound on your arm. Each drip, drip, drip of blood that trickled into your gloves had been ticklish, but in the way that meant don't laugh.

You set your jaw and focused on your destination: anywhere but this Maker-forsaken skughole. On top of the chilly (and bloody) reception you'd gotten when entering the village, it looked just a bit too much like memories tinged in more pain than you liked to put yourself in at any given time. Whitewashed stone walls, gray-brown gravelly dirt, banners fluttering in the wind beneath a perennial overcast sky. It contrasted greatly with the colorful robes of the settlement - most wore a deep scarlet red set of robes in varying styles, though all bore hoods and intricate leather chest-plates, denoting either status or clan or loyalty, not so dissimilar to the markings painted atop beskar, a mark of originality in a sea of faceless similarity.

Maybe that was why you kept your armor unpainted. You liked gray, muted tones, always had.

When the Mandalorians had taken you in as a child, you’d been afraid and wide-eyed, and later in the stifling confines of your helmet they’d thrust upon you, you remembered the unhinged fear of the flashing colors and display imagery that flitted across the face-shield. The days in the covert hideout had been dark, underground as they'd been, and when this sudden burst of light bled into your eyes, it frightened you. It wasn't until you found the monochromatype-setting that you found any scrap of peace.

Though, in the times you let yourself get inebriated enough to reminisce, you would muse that perhaps all chances of any peace you were fated to know had died in the fiery remains of your village, still and lifeless before the dust had even settled. All that remained from that day and all the days before it was the memories of screams and wretched anguish as you were lifted to safety in the arms of a Mandalorian warrior.

You didn’t think of any place as yours anymore. It was less painful that way, less crushingly lonely to find comfort among discomfort. It’s why the Razor Crest had little to no amenities, it’s why you took far-away jobs and never involved yourself in anything - people, places, or belongings - that could be hard to lose one day.

(In all your life, this had been true, with one notable exception you had to keep limping back to.)

But you'd been used to crossing long distances, motivated by the goal. In the past, it had been money, some method of funding the covert and wretched orphan foundlings like you'd been. It was a simple equation: the longer the distance from the hub, the higher the pay. Sometimes, the risk had become the reward, but that kind of careless thinking was what landed you in this situation.

Alone.

Injured.

Betrayed once more.

You didn’t have time for friends. The galaxy didn’t have time to offer them to you.

What the galaxy did offer you in spades, however, were mysteries.

Which was why the man in red was chasing after you currently.

“Where are you going? You’re hurt!” his voice didn't boom like you thought it would, for a man of his larger stature. He'd been following you since the incident at the square.

“Do you always state the obvious?” you gritted out, trying to limp away to somewhere with sufficient cover. Though the weather was perpetually overcast here, this settlement in particular sat on the equator of the planet, which meant you'd been basically sweating your beskar since the moment the ramp had dropped.

“My house isn’t too far, I can patch you up, and—” You cut him off with an annoyed groan, frustration coating your teeth in venom as you shot him a mouthless snarl.

“I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help. Besides, didn't you all just run me out of town?” The man, taller and broader than you, even in your boots and armor, wisely didn’t reach out to try and stop you on your hell-bent path. He simply kept in step with you while he spoke, his longer strides making his red robes and hood flutter in his wake. It wasn't too difficult to do, as you were at less than half your regular pace from the wounds on your leg and arm.

“If that gets infected, you will need somebody's help.” Sure, the gashes smarted like hell, but they were nothing you hadn't endured before. “There are no clinics in this quadrant, either. Public or private.”

“Not going to a clinic."

"But you're—"

You whirled on him, unsheathing your vibroblade from your calf and pointing the end quite menacingly at him. He froze in shock, big eyes looking back at you with apprehension. His hands went up in defense, but didn't strike you. His mouth was quiet, though still open. You spoke before you could lose your advantage.

"I said, I can take care of myself.”

You lost whatever strength had been keeping you from swooning in pain, and your vision went double, triple, as you listed to the side. You grunted at the impact of your body against a wall.

The man was still talking, for the love of—

"You're three minutes from passing out on the ground. Do you even know where you're going, Mando?"

You whirled back around to your intended path, vision going alarmingly gray for just a moment. Several unsteady steps placed themselves between you and your mouthy entourage, but you could feel your heart pounding in your ears just from that small exertion. The man made a bewildered noise, like he hadn’t expected you to physically acknowledge his incessant nagging with that stubborn display. As he crunched along on the beige gravel to your side once more, he suddenly found the will to… be silent.

It was suspicious. “What do you want.”

He seemed shocked that you would address him directly. When you looked, you saw wide brown eyes blinking behind long lashes. His lips formed a surprised ‘o’ and a pink tongue poked out to lick at the lower one. His mustache and patchy beard gave him a very civilian kind of look. It was easy to appreciate that he was handsome, easy to just admire him from the privacy of your helmet.

Shit, the chromatype must've been on the fritz. There's no way someone looked that appealing to you, least of all, a civilian. You waited for his answer and leaned back on the alley wall, standing as still as you could despite your mounting impatience.

It was in these moments that you were relieved by the fact that most people seemed to make up the emotion you were feeling behind the helmet. The fearful would imagine your fury, the smug would imagine you frightful, the fetishizers would imagine you lustful and wanting. It had upset you at the beginning of your career, but you found it was easier to let the ignorant hold conversations with themselves than engage with them. You remembered Ran's words from a few weeks back, is that gratitude I see, Mando?

Bastard.

Regardless, you could have been glaring at him, not wincing in pain and openly ogling him in your blood-lost state. You could have been ignoring him and just catching your breath. You watched him try to decide what you were feeling just then, the expressions flitting openly over his features. His deep brown eyes darted across your body, his lips tightening at the sight of the growing pool of blood beneath your left foot. He reached a hand up to scratch at his head, making the red hood fall to his shoulders. You glimpsed a tattoo in the web between his hand and his thumb, some kind of symbol you’d seen in the village earlier.

Symbol.

You looked closer at his chest.

“You're not even a healer, are you?”

He went red as his robes.

“No...”

“That’s the symbol over the civic building, there's one like it on the chest of each of the councilmen that tossed me out into that mob. What were you going to do, put my wounds through a tribunal?” you scoffed. He fixed you with a flat look, his lips pressing into an unimpressed pout. For a politician, he sure liked to wear his heart on his face. You at least had the sanctuary of your helmet to hide your nasty looks behind.

He sighed finally and looked away. “You ever say you're going to get a tattoo and everyone tells you 'watch out, it'll be there forever!' and you don't listen?”

"No."

"W—what?" he tilted his head to the side. "Oh, because of the. Okay, well I'm just saying I'm not a politician anymore. I uh, I think I was kicked off the council." He looked back at the village square, the one you'd both escaped from. "I think."

"Did you follow them around and ask stupid questions all the time, or am I just special today?" You tried to take another step in the general direction of your ship, but the edge of your flightsuit chafed suddenly against the still-bleeding gash in your thigh. You hissed and steadied yourself on a tree that sprouted blood-red leaves. From this point to your ship, there was hardly any cover, and nothing you could lean on to aid your journey back to—

"I expected you'd be stubborn, but this is ridiculous," he sighed, coming closer and helping you upright without hesitation. You would have screamed at him to back off, would have pulled a blaster or something, but even you could tell you were two feet from unconsciousness, and you could just manage one word for him in response.

“Rude.”

“Yes, you are, Mandalorian.” He half-carried your flagging body in the general direction you pointed to. He could have just been leading you somewhere no one could find your body, or your armor, but you were too deliriously in pain to care. “Dank ferrik, you’re heavy.”

“Not supposed to say that to a lady,” you slurred, head lolling to his shoulder as he propped you up against him.

“Act like a lady and I’ll show you how I treat one,” he quipped back.

Oh boy.

You didn't know how long you walked for, but after drifting in and out of awareness, your ship was now in sight, semi-cloaked but visible with your helmet sensors. She was a bit of a dump, but she was your dump, and just about the only thing you thought sacred in this galaxy. You entertained no insults to her capabilities, but you also weren't under the impression that she was worth much more than you bought her for over a decade ago. You smacked the button on your vambrace for the ramp to lower, and sucked in a breath when you realized you'd led a perfect stranger…

To the kid.

Hopefully he was asleep, but he never seemed to be when you wanted him to be.

Hopefully, this fucking guy would scram. Hopefully he didn't catch on to your sudden panic upon arrival. Thankfully, he only seemed concerned with your pain, and wanted to help relieve it. You hated that you felt weak enough to accept his help, that the kid upstairs would most likely feel it through his powers, and try to join the effort.

Please, kid, just stay up there, you prayed.

He was your ward, your charge. The Armorer had named you his parent, his mother, until you could find his people. As time went on, though, you feared you wouldn't be able to let him go when that eventuality arrived. When you'd caught up with her and that Viszla asshole on some ring-planet in the mid-Rim, she'd taken your attachment as compromised loyalty, and summarily excommunicated you from the ranks.

The fact that both you and the kid had escaped with your lives was nothing short of a miracle.

Now, if you could escape from this situation…

"Got it from here. Thanks, weirdo." You attempted to stumble up the ramp on your own, but ended up crawling on hands and knees, the man following in concern.

"I don't think you've got it."

"What do you know?" you snapped, not interested in being coddled and injured.

"I'm trying to help you, you infuriating woman!" he said, tossing his hands up. You tried moving toward the bulkhead, maybe to pull your way to your feet via the cargo net, but something twinged in your back and you groaned. The idiot was at your side in a second. "What, what is it?"

"Nothing!" you barked.

“Just...” he took a breath, mouth drawn thin. “Where does it hurt most?”

“My ears, if you keep fucking talking,” you sneered unhelpfully.

“Well, in that case, you might want to take off your helmet—"

“Touch the helmet and your head comes off next.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, hands going up once more in defense from your barbed threats. “Let's sit you down right here, I’m going to look at your leg, alright? Look, nowhere near your head.”

He found a clearly-labeled medkit on the wall near the 'fresher, coming back and taking a knee beside you. His proximity to your wounds made you nervous.

“Don’t try anything funny.” Your voice was much weaker than you wanted it to be.

“I’m not a funny guy, no worries there.” You faded in and out of attention as the pain ebbed and flowed through you, and he patched you up like he promised he could back at the edge of town. What a strange set of skills for a politician, you mused. The wound on your arm had gone pretty deep, and his stitches weren’t the neatest or most painless. He must have sensed this, because he started to talk to fill the tense silence between you, in addition to distracting you from the feeling. “My name is Din,” he said in a low murmur, still mostly concentrating on your arm.

“Your parents forget the rest of your name?”

“No,” he laughed. “Just Din. Din Djarin. What do I call you?”

“Mando.”

"Last name?"

"Lorian."

A laugh, dry but hearty. It made your stomach flip. You wanted to punch something. “Well. I should’ve seen that one coming.”

“You're very strange, Din Djarin.” You, at least, thought you were funny, but it could have been the blood loss. Din didn't laugh with you, but you were too exhausted to care.

Coupl'a jokes, we are.

There was another tense moment when he checked the scrape on your neck, but after that, he stepped back with a guarded expression. “Well, I think you’ll live.”

“Yipee.”

Din gave you another unimpressed look. “You’re welcome.”

“Whatever, Din Djarin. What do you want? Credits?” His look goes from unimpressed to irritated in less than a heartbeat.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone actually just wants to help another person?” There were way too many answers for that question, so in lieu of providing one, you gave none at all. Din just sighed at your attitude. “If it’s gonna keep you up at night, Mando, then you can pay me back by flying me to the next quadrant.”

The weariness showed in the line of his shoulders. You peered at him curiously, and put a few pieces together. The neat first aid care, the biting sarcasm, the intelligence in his eyes. “You’re not actually a politician, are you?” You didn't doubt his outcast status, but the stoicism and false persona didn't suit him, not from what you knew about him.

He gave a withering stare to your query.

You continued digging your grave. "You're too nice."

He rolled his eyes, and popped the knuckles on his hands as he cast his look around, anywhere but you. He found the 'fresher and opened the panel, much too comfortable maneuvering around your ship, but you weren't exactly ready to stop him at the moment.

“It’s not exactly the job I’d envisioned for myself,” he said, running his hands through the sani-stream. “My cousin got me a job near the Council when I was sixteen. What I thought was some kind of… some kind of burgeoning trust in my abilities… ended up just being foolish hopes. He'd made me a pawn in his plans to grab more power, and I trusted him because he was head of the family, the only one I had left and… well, what am I saying. Not like you actually care, do you?”

You frowned from behind the helmet. Now that you were on the up and up, you truly absorbed just how rude you'd been to this man. He only wanted to help, that much was clear. In your line of work, that kind of attitude earned nothing but shallow graves. He'd been screwed over by people he trusted, a few times, you could guess. And yet, that didn't make him any less trusting of others, at least not enough to keep him from offering help when they needed it.

Same storm nebula, different starships.

"What's in the next quadrant?" you asked. "There a spaceport?"

"Yeah. Shouldn't stick around." He looked back at the settlement with remorse.

"That your cousin's doing too?" you asked, and he nodded.

"I said I was going to tell the rest of the council what he was doing, and he believed me enough to make me a pariah."

Your candor took the reins. "Your cousin sounds like a real kark-head."

Din laughed in surprise, eyebrows shooting up. Those deep brown eyes glittered in mirth, amusement at this shared joke. A miserable joke, but it was shared nonetheless. "Thought ladies weren't supposed to swear."

That's the second time he's called me that.

"Who told you I'm a lady?" you said with a roll of your eyes, getting back on your feet. He watched warily, and when you hit the button for the ramp, realized you were taking him along with you. "Hope you didn't need anything back in town."

"No, I sent it ahead on the train just in case. I have a friend out there watching it for me."

"Does your friend happen to know a good mechanic?"

"I'm sure she does."

"Great. I clocked the quadrant you're talking about when I broke atmo, I can find my way there without your help, so... You stay down here. Do not come up this ladder. You got it?"

"Got it."

The kid was up in his pram in the cockpit, the same place you'd left him just hours ago. He'd directed you to this planet with some kind of excitement, like there was something here he could feel he needed. You weren't foolish enough to think it could have possibly been another clue on your idle quest for the Jedi, but you'd never seen him react so excitedly about a star system you'd never been to before. You'd just hoped he hadn't been baiting you toward a mighty cache of frogs.

He'd been excited about frogs like that before.

You started up the launch sequence and turned your head to talk to him once you were up and away from the sandy surface of the planet. "Hey, kid, looks like we're gonna have to take a rain check on—"

You froze.

The pram was empty.

Just then, you heard Din make a surprised noise from the hold.

You scrambled down the ladder, most likely tearing a stitch or two in the process, from how your leg and shoulder screamed at you. You froze in horror at the sight of Din holding the kid in his arms, letting him babble away at him.

"Put him down. Put him down now," you said, trying and failing to keep the anxiety from your voice.

"Why? Wh—is this your child?"

"Yes!" your heart pounded, panic rising as you tried to gauge his intentions.

Din narrowed his eyes suspiciously at you, and you felt dread freeze your veins.

"Are you sure you didn't steal him?" he accused, pulling the kid behind him in a defensive stance. Your chest constricted with anxiety, keeping you rooted in place. The absurd accusation didn't even absorb, you were so worried.

This time, your hands went up in a defensive position, trying to de-escalate.

"Don't hurt him... Please, just put him down, I didn't steal him. I'm trying to take him home."

"Home to Mandalore?" he spat. The indignation in his tone matched the sharp darkness in his eyes, warm brown now an icy, abyssal black in the lower light of the hull.

You shook your head, growing confused. "No!" you had no idea where this ferocity was coming from. He'd been nothing but helpful and polite to you until now, a little goofy, even. Now, he was angry, and you couldn't get him to put the kid down.

"Then wherever your sect is now? Is that why you came back to our planet? Scouting the place for another raid?"

"I—what?!" you shook your head. "I have no idea what you're talking about! Raids?!"

"The raids! The ones the Mandalorians ordered on neutral systems to pressgang children into the ranks! I'm surprised you've forgotten so easily. I was almost ripped from my mother's arms when I was a child, from someone who looked just. Like. You."

You stood in shock, horror rising like bile in your throat. "Din…" you shook your head. "I… we didn't. I didn't do that. I'm. I was raised in the Corps, my planet—"

"My mother dedicated her life to protecting the children of the planet after almost losing me. I continued her legacy where I could. I know what I lived, Mandalorian. My mother knew what almost happened. It's insulting that you would deny it to my face." He looked disgusted with you, that expressive face morphing into an ugly look you didn't think possible on him. It twisted and soured something in your gut, something like guilt, but more of a dawning kind of guilt, some chthotic horror rising from the depths of the past to remind you just how wrong you'd been about yourself.

"When was this?" you tried again, your focus torn between Din and the kid. "I've been Mandalorian since I was a child. I promise you, I've never known anything of this. Can you just—?"

"It was during the Clone Wars, when your people hit our planet. According to my mother's research, every planet in this system was raided at one point. We never found out how many other systems were treated similarly. It's impossible to know just how many children were stolen, families decimated for the simple reason that they had an untapped recruitment pool playing in their homes."

He spoke with extreme certainty, almost zealous in his conviction. You understood why he would be considered for a career in politics. But it was what he said next that made your stomach drop out.

"As far as you know, if you were taken in as a child of tragedy, you could be the product of that violence too."

Your blood ran cold.

A small, distressed cry came from behind Din's shoulder, and you took a half-step forward. Din instinctively hid the kid away from you, but the cry grew louder until two tiny green hands reached over his shoulder for you, followed by two floppy ears and two big brown eyes filled with despair. Din looked between you and him for a few moments before conceding to your first request, setting the kid down on the floor.

The kid ran into your waiting arms, making soft noises of distress, tapping your armor and assuring himself that he was there, that you were there. "Hey, buddy, yeah, I've got you, it's okay, shh, shh…" you swayed with him in your arms, holding him in the curve of your armor where he tended to fall asleep fastest. There were moments where the kid seemed like he really was all fifty of his years, but there were others where you knew he was just a child. As his mother, indeed.

Din was still watching you warily, his posture tense and distrusting. "You're not what I expected," he said. His voice was guarded, which was to be expected.

You laughed mirthlessly. "What, did you expect me to break in doors and steal babies from cradles?" You looked down at the child in your arms, gazing up at you with adoration and trust. You shook your head, letting the kid wrap his tiny claws around your finger. "What would I do with a kid?" you asked softly, to nobody in particular.

You'd asked yourself that same question months ago, taking cover from a firefight in the streets of Nevarro. The kid, still slightly sedated and confused, had looked at you and answered the question for you by holding onto you even tighter, trusting you though the world fell down around you both.

"How did you know the Mandalorians in particular orchestrated the raid?" you asked, trying to distance yourself from the rising wave of dread within you. If you were taken in as a child of tragedy…

"They'd come to the village a week before the hit. A group of them, they patrolled the streets and schools and met with local government under the guise of offering protection. From what I know, they didn't ask any of the targets for anything in return. Turns out they weren't offering anything at all."

"They toured schools?" you asked, the point sticking in your head a little.

"They mostly just poked their heads into classrooms. The schools on this side of the planet are small, just a few rooms. Not like the academies in the capitol sector. Suppose that's why the more rural settlements were targeted. Most victims that had talked to my mother were laborers, well outside their village borders with no ability to see the attacks. By the time anybody noticed something happened, their children would be long gone."

Laborers. A smudge of blue dust on your a man's cheek, a wide smile, rough hands held out to receive—

"On the day of the attack," he continued, "I remember them dropping in from the sky. Their ship style is very distinct, or at least it was, back then. They came in with jet-packs and guns, conveniently showing up minutes after the droid army did. There was something wrong with their comms, they couldn't communicate secretly at all. They shouted get the kids, grab the kids as they ran around. They ripped them away, or tried to."

"What happened?" you sat down on the ground with the kid, letting him play with your gloves while you talked. You kept a hand on his belly, keeping him secure to you.

Din joined you, but kept his distance. "My mother happened." He looked proud of that. "Something had given her a bad feeling the day before. She'd gone to the nearest city center and drained our village's bank account just to buy weapons and speeders. She returned just as the Separatist ships arrived. She thought that was the feeling she'd gotten, but when the Mandalorians showed up soon after, she knew. She knew she had to protect the children. And she did."

"She forced a retreat from a whole response team of Mandalorians?" you said, impressed.

"Her and the other mothers of the village."

"She sounds like an incredible woman," you said politely.

"She was." He looked a little sad. "She petitioned the Republic to investigate, and when the liaison arrived and found evidence of the plans, he was bombed from orbit, and she was outcast from the village. I haven't seen her in over fifteen years."

He spoke like she'd died, looking wistfully beyond your shoulders, somewhere in the past that only he could see.

"You couldn't contact her?"

He shook his head, lips pursed.

"That's horrible." You shook your head. "Your village seems to really not like people living in it."

"Well," he shrugged. "Kinda went to shit after my father, who was mayor at the time, had to resign in disgrace, but before he left to find my mother, he legally granted me autonomy, and irrevocable veto power on the council. When my cousin offered me the job after they left, I was still just trying to cope with my parents fleeing like that. I didn't know why they left me behind. I made it my goal to try and get things to change, get the laws to change, so my parents could come home and we could be a family again. Why would my father give me that power if not to use for good? It was useless. I was useless. They-they believed in me, and…"

"And your own family kicked you out." You offered him an out from this upsetting line of thinking. "I'm really starting to not like this cousin of yours."

Another quirk of a smile, making his mustache twitch upward. "Yeah, he's a bit of a blowhard," Din shrugged. "We all deal with it in our own ways."

"It, being… family?"

"Suppose so."

The conversation lulled as the ship carried you both across the skies. In the silence, you found yourself in his position, thinking too hard on the what-could-have-beens and—

"Are you going to search for your parents when we get to the next sector?" you spoke before you could lose yourself to your inner monologue.

Din looked surprised that you were at all curious. Even if the question could have been interpreted as vague, passing interest, as a pleasantry.

Yeah, right, the last thing you'd give anyone is a damn pleasantry.

"Yeah. Looks like we're both searching for similar things, huh?"

"Looks like it."

You excused yourself to the 'fresher, where you removed your helmet to look at yourself in the mirror. You felt victim to the whipgraft delusion, seeing somebody else before you, like it was an interpretation of your face that had been warped by the years you spent ignoring it. You hardly recognized your features anymore, more familiar with the silver beskar and black transparisteel than your eyes, your nose, your mouth. You definitely didn't recognize the tears on your cheeks, the redness in your eyes, or why your hands shook so badly.

A memory popped up in your head, a little grainy like an old holofilm. You have your mother's eyes, you know. When you smile, you look just like her.

That could be true, but you know she has your laugh. I can't even tell who I'm entertaining somedays!

Rough hands. Blue dust on a cheek. Warmth.

A woman's voice. Hair escaping a braided style. Love.

Two hands on each of your shoulders, a palm-pressed pattern to your bones, to your soul. This means I love you. Sometimes we can't say it. When you feel this… we're here. And we love you.

You dropped your gaze to the floor as memories flooded in. You felt furious at your ignorance. You were also somewhat ill, nauseated by these revelations. Your parents… you knew them. You really knew them. And…

Here, take her, I'll hold them back—

They're not going to stop until—

I know. I heard the bulletin. Now go!

Daddy!

I love you, don't forget I love you…

Explosions. Darkness. Silence. Laughter, but this time cruel, through a vocabulator. One that sat in the same empty helmet staring up at you from your hands. You could not share your father's laugh through this machine. You could not share your mother's smile through this mask.

The Watch had made certain of that.

You could go check the public archives, the ones recovered by the New Republic after the fall of the Empire. The Crest could do it for you, if you shot a query up through your vambrace. The thought of needing this cursed and curdled technology, this armor and these trappings, to know what you already knew, lifted bile to your tongue. Had the answers been right there, all along? Not even dancing at the core of all secrets, instead just resting beneath the surface?

You could find other Mandalorians, you could…

You could ask all of them, but you decided to trust yourself on this one. How could you ever trust another of that group, that group who condoned the theft and entrapment of children?

You knew who you were. I know what I lived, just like Din had said. Would you forsake your Creed on the words of someone who only asked you to examine your life?

No.

It was a Creed.

It wasn't even the Creed.

And it certainly wasn't yours.

You would easily forsake a Creed built on lies and pain and unnecessary loss. You would turn your back on that in a heartbeat, no regrets and no guilt over what you were leaving behind right here and now.

With a deep breath, you reset the helmet, disabling the tracking beacon, and every grayed-out setting you'd told yourself had been a comfort in the past. You unclipped the armor from your body but did not donate its cheapened, bloody value to the airlock. It would be helpful, you knew, but right now you wanted nothing more than to hide it from sight. You stacked it in the storage unit installed in the 'fresher, beneath some spare linens and what looked like three crumpled silver sleeves that once held cookies.

That kid. You smiled to yourself, and then quickly up at the mirror.

How simple, a stretch of the lips and eyes that shone with joy.

You looked a little ridiculous, standing in nothing but your tac-pants and compression top. Your hair was falling out of the pins you used to secure it to your head, still sweaty from the Aq Vetina atmosphere. There was still some blood on your neck, evidence of the violent lashing you'd survived in the square earlier that day, one you'd taken in the name of a people who'd unjustly taken yours. Even in this momentary melancholy, you smiled. Then you laughed.

The ghosts of two hands came down upon your shoulders, squeezing sense-memory through time and space and heartache and hem-jawed forgettances that were once as familiar as breathing. I love you. I love you. I love you.

With your family beside you in spirit, you held your head high and re-entered the hull.

Din was playing with the kid on the floor, just rolling a ball back and forth, encouraging him and celebrating every successful catch. You took him in. He looked much younger than the helmet made him seem. You noted with a pang that his robes, his pink lips, his skin, they were all more vibrant than even the overactive chromatypes captured, and now, you could see how the robes brought out the soft russet color hidden in his hair alongside the beginnings of a rather striking set of grays. He had a light tan, and an attractive sort of radiance to his face. You supposed that even the forever-overcast skies of Aq Vetina couldn't dull the vitality that pulsed ever outward from his heart.

The kid looked even more adorable, soft white hairs you didn't know were there behind the viewfinder flowing haphazardly across his scalp. The green of his body was still strange, but the brown robe he wore seemed to suit him. He, too, was vibrant and beautiful. Everything was.

You stood in contrast to all this color in all black and gray and brown, the pieces not covered by armor purposefully hidden in shadow for years. Without that armoor, you felt a million other senses clamor for your attention at once. The ship seemed louder, the air a little more fresh than it typically was behind the recycler system in your helmet.

It was the kid who noticed you first. He looked at you, and on reflex, you almost slammed the control for the lights to hide, but you kept your hands at your side, looking back at him the way he deserved to see you. He always seemed to look you right in the eyes he'd look at you, but now, without the beskar helm, that connection felt a hundred times stronger. He made a happy noise, toddling over to you and drawing Din's attention.

You almost didn't catch all the things his face was doing. He went from shocked, to confused, to concerned, to alluring and flirty?, before settling on admiring. "Hi," he said, getting up to his feet and approaching tentatively. Without your gear, he now stood a good head and a half taller than you, and the kid now felt a lot bigger in your arms. But both were comfortable to you—no, comforting.

You nearly flinched backward when the kid's little claw touched your face, but relaxed when you recognized the touch, smiling your mother's smile down at him.

"Hey, buddy."

He made another happy noise, almost a shriek, when he recognized your voice. You laughed.

"Yeah, it's me. Look a little different, huh?"

Your eyes flicked over to Din. The concern was back on his face, thoughts racing through hyperspace through every possibility that led you here.. "You… I hope you didn't think I was asking you to…"

"Don't worry about it. It's needed to come off for some time now, if I'm being honest with myself." You nodded, before giving in and pressing your cheek to the top of the kid's head.

"Well," he gave you a smile you couldn't help returning. "It's nice to meet you. Again."

"I'd say," you scoffed.

"Oh, what is it now?" Din teased, putting his hands on his hips. It emphasized the breadth of his shoulders, sending a frisson of interest down your spine.

"I'm sure it is nicer to meet me right now than it was an hour ago."

He smirked, laughing a little before shrugging. "You said it, not me."

The cockpit beeped from up the ladder, indicating your approach toward the quadrant. You could have let the moment slide, just written it off as the thrill of one stranger bearing witness to your transformation, but your heart had other plans, plans you were inclined to follow.

"Mind if we tag along while you look for your parents?" you asked, bringing the kid up to your hip. He looked over at Din, who took another step closer to you, so close you could feel his warmth, could feel it melting away whatever had started to thaw the moment you'd opened that pram on Arvala-7.

"I'd like that."

Thanks for reading!!

[themissilesilo]

It's so canon divergent it's basically an AU, it's completely deranged, and I'm not even sure it would work in character but:

Vox wants to get Alastor's attention above all else

Vox knows that the Hotel is Alastor's current pet project

Vox doesn't want Charlie to make a deal with Alastor

...Vox tries to undercut Alastor by offering to help the hotel instead.

[38sr]

Hello TT.TT I'm new here, so I've been lost, but I'm loving your arts VERY MUCH TT. TT does the V2020 & undercut a continuation of a past series, or was it the first? And also, where can I purchase digital copies of your works (if there's any)?

OH MY GOD V2020 and Undercut take me back haha. Okay, so V2020 and Undercut are part of a canon divergent AU I made for VLD where *checks old sketchbooks* takes place after the events of S2 where Shiro does die (Zarkon does not) which leads Keith to taking the Black Paladin, Lance takes Red, Allura takes Blue yada yada. At the end of the story they sacrifice Voltron (the robot) instead of Allura because Voltron was the reason why the war started in the first place (made of quintessence which drove Zarkon mad, it's not good for anyone and I'm just bitter they off Allura ). If I remember correct Undercut was the plotline where Keith and Lance were on a mission together where Lance experienced a head injury of sorts that led to him getting an undercut hair style to treat the wound. It's been so long so I would have to find the hard drive for that haha. But basically it was my retelling of the show that honestly idk if it'll ever come to fruition since I work full-time and just don't have that time anymore . But thanks for enjoy it! As for your second question, I don't send physical or digital copies of my work. ^^;

[punkedupclowns]

If they crawl out of the mud | Wash them away in a flood | I'm only as good as my god | Burnt hair and more money

template | art by @/shjiyemis Semi-Dep. Canon Divergent Kurloz | Homestuck IC RP blog

Currently, this AU is just me, but if you wanna hop on one day feel free to dm me! Rules undercut: please read

This blog will feature content that is POTENTIALLY harmful and unsuitable for work.

Topics like abuse romantic and platonically are present on this blog. Keep in mind it's not a central part of his character. These topics are just present on the blog.

Kurloz can be a bit intense and a bully. He's not a nice person and generally pretty apathetic so he might be blunt and rude. Please don't take it personally but if you are uncomfortable with how he speaks to you we can work something out in private.

Depictions and HCs I have for people in this AU might not align with yours. This AU is about toxic friend groups. They're all kinda awful.

Please be sure to read my rules. Don't make a fool of yourself.

Drama-free zone. You don't want it, I don't want it. Let's get along.

personals DO NOT REBLOG MY POSTS

MUTUALS ONLY. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Kurloz will talk about the Clown church and various other religious things. However, keep in mind the Clurch is not real! I will not be tagging it. So please follow at your own risk. Take care of yourself.

This blog covers topics such as unhealthy friend groups. Be mindful when following.

A reminder, me tagging triggers is a courtesy, I might not tag all triggers that could be present on this blog unless I know you personally and your triggers.

OC Friendly || Crossover/Multi-fandom friendly || Experienced Roleplayer || Mostly IC blogging/Occasional para rp || 18+

IC About | Rules | About | OOC | Inbox

In Au: @greasedupclown (Cronous) and @prosaicpedagogy (kankri)

[frankenjoly]

For the character thing: Angel (bl) and Akutagawa (bsd)

angel

My first impression

first thing i learned about her was she's jacks kid, and i think what happened to her since my first contact with borderlands was tftbl?

My impression now

one of my faves from borderlands, i live and breathe aus where she gets to be happier. canon divergence, my beloved.

Favorite thing about that character

siren with tech powers, and a very interesting story. wish we'd gotten more about her.

Least favorite thing

ah yeah, me and my thing with latching onto side characters with barely screentime 80% of the time.

Favorite line/scene

her reveal, even if the bunker part frustrated me to no end both story and gameplay-wise.

Favorite interaction that character has with another

sadly, there's not much :c but damn, her echo-log flashback and how they show the development of her relationship with jack...

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

maya (bcs siren stuff) and gaige (bcs i love the ship).

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

kyoka from bsd lakjdfl.

A headcanon about that character

i like the idea of her keeping an undercut even after getting rid of the head ports. similar hairstyle but different, properly stylized since in canon she just have that part shaven for functional purposes, and is a way to "reclaim" the looks sort of.

A song that reminds of that character

kill your conscience (shinedown).

An unpopular opinion about that character

her insulting jack in the end was satisfying bcs she finally got to express how shitty he had been to her, but were they to reunite (by the power of canon divergence) i think things would be more complicated than hating him forever/straight up forgiving him.

Favorite picture

it's a drawing made by her, but... dunno, her expression and what she's conveying,,,, and i like that she likes to draw.

akutagawa

My first impression

i thought his ability was cool, but didn't thought much about him till we get to know him more.

My impression now

i love him quite a lot, what can i say.

Favorite thing about that character

he's strong af in all senses, and deeply loyal. i love his development too, he comes such a long way, and the story's not even done yet,,,

Least favorite thing

in typical bsd fasion: honey pls, give yourself more credit.

Favorite line/scene

"i keep my promises" for all it means.

Favorite interaction that character has with another

atsushi (bcs of their development and bcs i ship them so damn much) and gin (bcs i'm a big aku siblings enthousiast).

A character that I wish that character would interact with more

alskdjlaf gin. we have one (1) interaction in the main manga, the rest is wan (chibi side stories) and beast (canon-validated au).

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character

diluc from genshin bcs same seiyuu, and the mr villain from mr villain's day off bcs they basically talk the same/have some similar traits.

A headcanon about that character

him (and gin too while we're at it) looking/acting all edgy at work but being pretty chill at home is something very dear to me.

A song that reminds of that character

running up that hill (placebo).

An unpopular opinion about that character

i highly doubt he's a big spender just bcs he earns a lot of money, at least when it comes to superfluous stuff. i mean, he grew up poor af, spending a lot in clothes that are practicall and will last? ofc. but not idk, gold-coated food.

Favorite picture

i have more, but one is The Spoiler.

[alohaemora]

hi! just wanted to drop by for two things:

a) had to let you know your writing style is BONKERS stellar, so, so good and succinct without undercutting the human emotion within each character you touch; just...you are incredible!

b) I've personally been wondering this for a long while, but have finally decided to just ask: why do you exclusively write canon compliant works? is it because that's what you find most comfortable? is it because you cannot picture anything beyond what's canon? or is it something else? I ask mostly because for a while I have seen many people in the fandom add this to their bios, which kinda turns me off of them (not due to writing, just a preference!), and it's rooted itself inside my brain and, well, here I am.

but I honestly really do adore everything I have read from you, you capture everyone's voices so masterfully I can't help but be enthralled (that Lee Jordan bit for Winter Sun? need more of that POV!).

so, yeah, hope this reaches you well, sorry for bothering! x

First of all, THANK YOU, Anon 🥺 I'm in the thick of a really horrible cold right now, and your words brightened my day. I'm really quite proud of my writing style at this moment in time. I've worked hard over the years at developing a style that balances conciseness and evocation - it's something I struggled with a lot when I first started writing, which you might notice if you read my older fics, so it always makes me genuinely thrilled when people comment on that. (Also, I'm delighted you enjoyed my recent Lee ficlet, I have so much fondness for his character, and hope to write more of him!)

As to why I'm a canon-compliant writer, it actually has very little to do with personal comfort - in fact, I love being pushed out of my comfort zone when I write, it's why my fics feature such a wide range of characters. I almost dislike the word "compliant" sometimes, as it has a bit of a…resigned vibe to it? The reason my works are canon-compliant is because what stimulates me, personally, when it comes to writing fanfiction is envisioning and creating different sides and dimensions to the canon universe. I enjoy the unique challenge that is posed by having to build upon, enrich, and add nuance to the characters and themes introduced to us in canon, while still working within the general parameters of that universe. The recent Winter Sun fest by @harrypocter, for example, has been an incredible writing experience for me - it's been so invigorating to add depth and culture and life to these characters of color, to create rich stories around those small mentions of them we got in the series.

Do I think that the canon universe is perfect? Of course not. I think this is a common experience for those of us who grew up with the series - as we matured, we naturally applied a more critical lens to books that we obsessively loved as children. A reputation that canon-compliant authors often have is that we are completely devoted to the source material and glorify it, when in fact, it's usually the opposite. It's been one of my favorite parts of engaging with this fandom as an adult, reading these incredibly nuanced metas and focused analyses of canon characters and plot lines, and then writing fics that incorporate my newly enhanced understanding. (I'll take this opportunity to rec one of my absolute favorite metas by @ashesandhackles that expertly breaks down all the problems within the series' house-elf-related arc.)

To conclude this wildly long answer lol, it's not that I see myself as trapped within the canon sandbox. Rather, what engages me most is making new things out of the sand. I will add that as a reader, I enjoy AU fic, particularly canon divergence AU, and there are so many truly stellar AU authors out there. One of the great things about this fandom is that because of how enormous it is, there are infinite niches and sub-fandoms. Despite the author's truly harmful actions (I will always support the rights and dignity of trans people and will never monetarily support jkr again), fans put time and care into making this space more inclusive and diverse every year.

Thanks again for the lovely comments ❤️

[ao3feed-izuku-midoriya]

Split Knuckles are an Epidemic

split knuckles are an epidemic (and other reasons why bakugou katsuki should never be allowed around fellow children) by the csk

“If you keep thinking of yourself like that you'll be useless forever! You're weak ‘cuz you cry all the time! Not ‘cuz you don't have a Quirk! Just keep punching people and you'll be less useless, Deku.”

or: instead of simply letting himself get beat up, izuku fights back. (and it's all bakugou katsuki's fault for encouraging him.)

Words: 6180, Chapters: 1/3, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of 2023 🐈, Part 1 of midoriya v. god (FIGHT!!)

Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: Gen

Characters: Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Katsuki, Kariage | Bakugou Katsuki's Friend with the Undercut, Shinsou Hitoshi, Original Male Character(s), Original Female Character(s), Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Midoriya Inko, Bakugou Mitsuki

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Kariage | Bakugou Katsuki's Friend with the Undercut & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi, Midoriya Izuku & Original Character(s), Kariage | Bakugou Katsuki's Friend with the Undercut & Original Male Character(s), Shinsou Hitoshi & Original Character(s), Bakugou Katsuki & Original Character(s), Midoriya Izuku & Uraraka Ochako, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Bakugou Mitsuki & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Inko & Midoriya Izuku, one of the relationships tags was "too long" to add, grrrrr

Additional Tags: Bakugou Katsuki is a Good Friend, Midoriya Izuku is a Good Friend, Shinsou Hitoshi is a Good Friend, Families of Choice, LGBTQ Themes, Aromantic Asexual Midoriya Izuku, Near Death Experiences, Quirk Discrimination, Quirkless Discrimination, i call this the "they have good influences" au, Pre-Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Midoriya Izuku is a Little Shit, Feral Midoriya Izuku, he bites, Bakugou Katsuki & Midoriya Izuku Friendship, they're brothers, ur honour, Midoriya Izuku & Shinsou Hitoshi Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, slightly better than canon aldera, Podfic Welcome, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45243439

[lifecharge]

MUSE LIST:

TELEVISION: Elena Gilbert (anti-Julie Plec, tvd s1-s3, heavy supernatural au) Margo Hanson (Syfy’s The Magicians canon divergent) Allison Argent (Teen Wolf, canon divergent) Kate Sharma Bridgerton (Bridgerton, TV with book influence) Rose Tyler (Doctor Who) Rhaenyra Targaryen (House of the Dragon) COMICS: Jane Foster (MCU w/ comic influence) Koriand’r (Comic based) Diana Prince (film and comic influence - fc: melisa asli pamuk) Gwen Stacey/Spider Gwen (Marvel)

BOOK: Katniss Everdeen (THG) Alec Lightwood (TSC, book based) Isabelle Lightwood (TSC, book based) Inej Ghafa (Grishaverse, book and show) Alina Starkov (Grishaverse, book and show - alternate ending) Yennefer of Vengerberg (book based, anti season 2)

FILM: Pamdè Amidala (Star Wars)

Rules Undercut

1. Mun is 21+ with a full time job that sometimes leaves me busy or exhausted so please be kind and give me some grace and patience

2. This blog has topics from the mundane every day life to supernatural and potentially triggering topics. I do not water my muses down for anyone or for the sake of Tumblr’s intense desire to be hyper correct - I tag appropriate triggers and if you need me to tag a trigger that I am not tagging, please inform me and I will start tagging it.

3. I prefer to do longer threads like 3+ paragraphs and flex my writing muscles that I haven’t flexed in a long time. (Shorter threads are nice, but I am trying to push myself into being a more detail orientated writer again)

4. The best way to start writing with me is to send memes or I will send memes. After that, plotting becomes a far easier thing for me to do once I have a slightly better grasp on the chemistry of our muses

5. Hi my name is Paige, I have been writing many of theses muses off and on for many years. Some I have been writing since my very first days on this hellsite in 2009 (yikes). I love them all to pieces but do note that with writing a muse for a long time comes a character that has basically become an OC thanks to all of the development and headcanons that have developed along the way.

[missfingers]

Would u ever post a silly headcanon list for your favorite yakooza blorbo? Or a thtfy char? :)

ty for the question! im pretty bad at headcanon lists tbh - im one of those people whos ideas are very rooted in like. the Plot i guess so its hard to just come up with every day stuff. but i can make a list of stuff thats different with thtfy!majima since his character diverges so much from canon ! hes my meow meow

first of all, cane user obviously. his pain and walking improves throughout the years as his more severe injuries heal but he never really stops using it - he has bad pain days, and on those days he uses his cane, simple as.

he keeps the long hair for a lot longer than in canon - its a sort of fuck you to his abusers, they kept it long to hurt him but now he decides he likes it actually so if he likes how it looks then they cant use it to hurt him. he doesnt go back to the undercut until mid forties, and it isnt a straight away thing - he keeps his hair long on top but gets his undercut back, so he can still wear it in a braid, and eventually when saejima comes back is about where he decides he wants to cut it again

bigender. majima is bigender in canon to me but thtfy majimas a lot more open about casually living as a woman. she Kiiiinda knew before the hole but never really looked into it past doing drag casually, but around kiryu she starts exploring again and realises its deeper than that. its kind of a whole dumb thing - "if i start being serious about this will kiryu-chan get it? will he get all confused since he knows i already transitioned and he'll think i'm just faking it or going back the other way?" meanwhile kiryu sees her wear makeup one (1) singular time and falls in love all over again. he will beat the fuck out of ANYONE who says anything about her - she doesnt want him to really, but its kinda flattering

related to that is majimas fashion in general - he never adopts the mad dog persona so he never has the desire to dress up all insane flashy or anything, just the regular amount of ugly 80s clothes. during the 90s its mainly slacks and patterned shirts when masc and tightfitting fem stuff but once they hit mid thirties and have hisa (ill get to hisa. maybe) they kinda throw in some more casual fem stuff? having hisa makes them more secure in just being casually a mother and not having to Dress Up to be a girl so theres a lot of long flowy skirts, off the shoulder sweaters, crop tops etc

hes a seahorse dad. not being in the yakuza means he finally gets to pursue his dream of actually being a father. makoto is transfem hes transmasc so it works out

if youve ever read way of the househusband .... 30+ thtfy!majima is essentially tatsu the immortal dragon. lot of changes obviously but hes a housewife who still employs a very yakuza ideology to the whole thing. and he LOVES HIS FUCKING WIFE

thats all for now maybe cause this is getting very long but i have a LOT more including hisa, majimas relationship with nishida in this au, morning glory, etc etc :) (send me more asks i lolve more asks eeheheehehehehe)

[restlesshush]

do you have like. a fic that deals with the soulless jack arc the way u want

Hiii anon this ask absolutely made my day. Very excited to answer this.

Okay so, I don’t have a fic of this but I do have the secret better soulless Jack arc that exists in my head. This originated from me brainstorming it in DMs to @autisticandroids (so there is stuff in here that is from them) around the time I watched the canon version for the first time a couple of months ago. It diverges fairly significantly for 14x16-14x18 and then sticks more closely to canon for 14x19-14x20, but like, the things I've changed mean that those episodes are put in a different light by the time we get to them, and so the main point of this soulless Jack arc is “okay, what actually is the best way to deal with this?” and the answer is compassion!!

(About 2k under the cut)

Obviously, Mary doesn’t die in this au, because it undercuts stuff to the extent that I don’t think it can have been the original plan. That doesn't mean, though, that I'm reverting to the improved soulless Jack arc I think s14 was building to before it got derailed by Mary's death, because that focusses a lot on Dean and Dean & Jack parallels, which isn't really the most interesting to me. This is a very Cas & Jack centric soulless Jack arc, as it should be.

So, the major structural diverging for me starts in 14x16 – in this version, instead of Cas being off screen, him trying to find a way to fix Jack’s soul is the focus of the episode. He gets to have two episodes getting increasingly desperate and probably physically threatening people (because I will forever be mad about the fact that in the entire show he punches 1 (one) car for Jack and that’s it). The idea of this – in addition the fact that Cas’s pov here is the most compelling objectively – is to help to maintain the sense of foreboding re soulless Jack, but also crucially to keep it in the right context of this being specifically something devastating for Jack and people who care about him. The idea of him as a potential ‘threat’ isn’t the point.

Then, I’m a little torn because I do think the s14 Nick stuff is the stupidest writing decision spn ever made, but I do also think Jack killing someone intentionally (as opposed to the stuff with Mary) is an escalation point that makes sense, because like, the issue with soullessness is that his moral reasoning’s off, but with a trustworthy guide he would still be fine! So I think while the emotional core of 14x17 is Cas still trying in vain to find a solution to Jack’s soul, this is the background to salmondean having taken Jack on some kind of motw case, explicitly as a test-drive for him, effectively. So the question the episode is asking – while it becomes increasingly clear that Cas’s mission going to be fruitless – is “is Jack’s soullessness going to be a problem?”, and then when he (well-meaningly!) brutally kills some malevolent civilian and flies off in a panic, we get the answer “apparently yes”.

Okay so NOW we get to my alternate 14x18 which is my favourite bit. In the canon soulless Jack arc, obviously we get Hallucifer 2.0, which I find pretty insulting tbh – I think it smacks of the writers being like “oops! We don’t know how to convey Jack interiority properly so we’re going to make him hallucinate someone to talk to instead!” (From the point of view that Nick’s death was probably meant to be the escalating event rather than Mary’s, this would make slightly more sense as a fossil of that, but it’s still annoying.) SO my solution to this is to convey Jack interiority by co-opting a bunch of other characters to voice his worst fears to him, in a way which escalates the situation, but like, in a way that makes it clear that the situation is being escalated because it’s being handled poorly. We’ve turned this into a Jack character study episode and all of the other characters are tools to serve this goal <3

Firstly, we ideally have a morally dubious ally. Annoyingly, I think Rowena's already too good by this point, and while an Uncle Crowley would be perfect, he has been killed off leaving his slot vacant. Anyway, we have [whoever. A not-dead Aunt Meg would also be great] make a spike btvs “I’m not good but I’m okay” style argument – “it’s fine that you don’t have a soul, you’re just like me and I’m fine”, which is kindly meant but still upsetting to (an already pretty distressed) Jack.

Then we get apocalypse world Bobby, with some other hunters in tow (including non-fridged Mary trying to talk him down), and (in line with the vibe from him at the beginning of 14x19, which was just never followed through on) he’s like “you are just a monster now, and we’re therefore going to kill you”. Which is clearly completely the wrong approach and just escalates things further as it reinforces Jack’s fears about himself and makes him more upset. Jack sends out some sort of shockwave in his panic to get away, and injures a couple of the apocalypse world hunters as well, but not intentionally. By this point he’s so upset that he’s leaving a bit of a trail of destruction in general, and that obviously increases people’s belief that he’s dangerous but like – he’s just distressed! They just need to be kind to him and tell him it’s okay and that they’ll help him!

And then we get to salmondean driving to intercept Jack. Cas is racing back from where he was of trying to fix Jack's soul, but they’re still a lot closer than Cas is, so Cas is begging Dean on the phone like “please please wait till I get there to talk to him. Please.” But Dean’s like “no, we need to sort this out right now” and so he and Sam barrel into the situation without Cas. They try to holy fire ring Jack to contain him while they try to talk him down, which obviously just makes Jack even more upset. (Sam is uncomfortable with this and tries to talk Dean out of it / tries to use waiting for Cas as an excuse, but he does ultimately fall in line.) And then when they’ve got Jack in the holy fire, Dean is taking what he genuinely thinks is a tough love approach of “well you’re not a monster, if you can get this under control” (voicing Jack’s fears to him. We’ve co-opted the avatar of the narrative to serve the end of expressing Jack interiority <3), and Jack’s like “otherwise you’ll kill me?” and Dean’s like “yeah. If I have to”. It eventually escalates to the point that Jack feels so overwhelmed that he is about to give up and just walk through the holy fire, not knowing whether it’s going to hurt him, but just before he does Sam caves and breaks the circle, so we don’t actually know what would have happened, just that he was prepared to do it. Salmondean don’t quite realise what was about to happen, but the audience do.

So we finish 14x18 with Jack still at large, and still upset and therefore out of control, and the crucial takeaway is that all of these attempts to talk him down failed because everyone was making the same misapprehensions about how to help Jack, making Jack’s non-monster status conditional, just feeding into his fear that he can’t avoid being a monster, and the destructive distress it’s resulting its, whereas Cas’s approach would have been “no you’re not a monster, and I’m going to help you” which is why it’s the only one that would have worked.

Then, when we get to 14x19, escalating to trapping Jack in the box makes more sense, because they have already tried talking to him. At the same time, the audience knows that trapping him in the box is still the wrong approach, because Cas's compassion that he didn't get to exercise is still in clear contrast to all of the other failed approaches. The Dumah stuff in this episode probably gets replaced by something where Jack has a little more agency, because the point is “yeah he might do dubious stuff in a well-meaning way without a guide, but if he is looked after he’s fine", so it makes sense to show him doing some well-meaning 'bad things' – having stuff that he's purely manipulated into is a little dull.

In addition to the fact that salmondean wanting to trap Jack in the box makes more sense in this version, because Sam let Jack out of the holy fire ring, Dean can leverage Sam’s ~responsibility in whatever chaos Jack has causes since, to persuade him to go along with the box plan, so the character dynamics make a little more sense there. Also obviously, removing the revenge motive that comes from Jack having killed Mary makes Dean come off as less callously vindictive, and more (very poorly, but still) trying to deal with this very difficult situation. Like, he's still not behaving particularly sympathetically, and he has fallen back pretty quickly into his earlier ways of viewing Jack, but it's much more earned, and less "woah! Where did that come from?!" than in canon 14x19. Another thing that's fixed by Jack not having killed Mary is that he looks much less gullible for being tricked into the box, as opposed to the canon portrayal of which is sublty ooc in a really insulting way.

And then, like in canon, Cas is away while all this is happening, and stuff plays out pretty much the same when he returns, except that Dean tries to physically restrain him from going to get Jack from the box, and Cas shoves him out of the way, because I do have an agenda re the angel and (here, very mild, but still) violence in defence of his child <3

For Moriah, the actual Jack stuff can play out pretty much the same (but of course with the prevailing sense that "no, Dean is wrong to think he has to kill Jack! Cas will be able to sort it!"), only obviously Chuck doesn’t kill Jack. This is for several reasons: 1) Chuck killing Jack is a massive cop-out in that it avoids dealing with the repercussions of Dean nearly killing Jack, which is lazy, boring writing; 2) if the point of this rewritten soulless Jack arc is “what is the solution? Is there an alternative to trapping/killing him?” we need him to survive so that we can see that the solution would have worked, have the cruel approaches refuted; 3) for there to have been something gained from all this, the arc needs to conclude with Cas leaving with Jack. Cas has had major revelations re the situation his child would be in continuing to live at the bunker, and also been shown the extent to which his drive to take care of Jack differs from Sam and Dean's, both of which are reasons for him to realise that he does need to step up as Jack’s parent, in order to do right by Jack, the way he wants to. Like, Cas has learned stuff from this, and he should get to act on it, rather than just having his child killed in front of him. Also, I get a real kick out of getting to say to the audience “look, only one of these three can reasonably be considered Jack’s parent after all that! It's only Cas!”

Not sure what really happens after that. Certainly I am super enamoured with the whole “Cas caring for soulless Jack” vibe – it compels me greatly. I also have in the back of my mind a character-stuff-masked-as-lore solution which could happen either instead of or following that, where Cas sacrifices his grace to fix Jack’s soul, and then Jack is able to restore Cas’s grace via giving him a little of his own (given it’s turbocharged nephilim juice), and it doesn’t give Cas angel terminal illness this time specifically because it’s the grace of his son. Like, their chosen relationship being recognised metaphysically in a way that resolves the situation.

Anyway crucially, the soulless Jack arc has been rewritten so that the instead of the clumsy canon version, the focus is “what does it truly mean for him to be soulless? How do we resolve this situation?” and the answer is that while his moral reasoning is a little out of whack, he does still mean well, and we can resolve things by being kind and having his dad take care of him <3

[wangxianficrecs]

Fic Finder

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1.  Hi, I'm looking for an Untamed fic, maybe you'll be able to help. It's a canon divergence AU in which WWX doesn't lose his core, Jiang Fengmian lives and it's implied that his core was transferred to JC (heavily implied; JFM retires as the Sect Leader after that). This is absolutely not the most important part of this fic but it's a paragraph that I've got stuck in my head and now I'm searching for the rest @_@ Thanks in advance! ~ @otemporaetmores

FOUND! by @notsobabblespace, who was reminded of  I’m aching and I know you are too by edenwolfie (part 3 in series, M, 23k, wangxian)

FOUND!  by @jim-is-spocks-thyla, who suggests ❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian) [ETA:  Oops, not this one.  JFM has no core, but he didn’t give it to JC]

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2.  Hi Mojo! I’m in need of you/your followers help in finding a fic that I read a little while ago. It was a fic where Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi lived together in Cloud Recesses and their children were Sizhui and an OOC that was younger than him. I remember SiZhui faced a lot of criticism for not being the chief cultivator’s real child? And they were happy he had a younger sibling that would be sect leader in the future because he was blood. Come to think of it, this is probably an ABO fic too. Thanks for your time 💜

FOUND! @andidontmeanto believes this is Blue Blood by PotterheadAvengerDemigod (T, 91k, wangxian, my post)

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3.  Aksks it's like 3 am but I just remembered a fic and I can't find it?? I'd really, really appreciate your help. It was a wangxian fic, maybe a oneshot idk, and lwj was kind of a nerd and wwx a badboy? So basically lwj has a massive crush on him and dresses up like wwx etc. (i think he even got an undercut) and after a party they sleep with each other at lwj's place?

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4.  i’m looking for a fic set in the where lwj’s mother killed his father? i don’t think that was a main plot point but it did show up in his backstory - any idea what this might be? ~ @thehype

FOUND!  @rentslirott thinks this could be ❤️the best of you by sysrae (E, 42k, wangxian, my post)

FOUND!  @castaways-logbook offers  The Right to Care by travelingneuritis (E, 39k, wangxian, WIP)

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5.  ... same as #6 ...

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6.  Hello friend, sorry for the inconvenience but I wanted to see if you could please find me a fic that I lost but I only remember more or less the final part, it goes more or less like this, lan zhan and wei ying are kidnapped by jin guangyao and lock them up if not I'm wrong in some cells next to lan xichen after the fights jin guangyao dies but lan xichen did know how bad jin guangyao had done and he didn't care and then to get revenge he wants to kill wei ying but lan zhan kills him and sizhui gets scared It was more or less like that, please help me ~ @isa0123lol

FOUND!  by @wangxiansfics who says that tragically it’s no longer available, but @dulachodladh found it on WaybackMachine here: Thread and Needle by haysel (M, 86k, wangxian)

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7.  Hi, Mojo! I'm glad that you're back but I hope you enjoyed your time off tumblr! Can you and/or your followers help me find a fic? I think the summary was talking about wwx and somehow they were asking mingjue for help since he's the only one who can help. The summary was in italics and it's a dialogue from some guy? And a shorter summary below. Sadly this is the only thing I can remember but I hope you can still help me

FOUND!  @alwayswenning suggests love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, has it’s own fanfic here, I just finished this last night!, my bookmark)

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8.  Sorry to bombard you as soon as you're back, but this one's driving me crazy--a modern AU where they met online. WWX thinks LWJ is an old man from how he talks. I don't remember much except the excerpt made it seem like he still was amused by/enjoyed talking to him, and Wen Qing was telling him it was a bad idea and to stop. It's not How to Fall In Love With a Catfish, tho that one is brilliant! (Also any top notch identity porn would be great) Hope your break was restful, you deserve it! Thanks

Here’s my #identity porn tag, but I’m not sure about this exact story.

I'm the anon for #8 on the fic finder. Though I'm excited to read it, the suggested fic isn't the one I was looking for. I swear I thought I saw it on here around a month ago or slightly more, but searches have failed me.

FOUND!  Rating: General Audiences by Mishaa (T, 18k, wangxian WIP) -  mysterious author LWJ (speculated to be an old man because of his formality) and infamous artist WWX paired up for an Untamed Big Bang (in an AU where JGY was the series’ antiheroic protagonist; this fic was written before the release of CQL.)

FOUND?  could you be looking for  Something Real by Latios (G, 5k, wangxian, my post) - wwx thinks lwj is an old man, but there’s no WQ.  There are many pictures of bunnies.

SIMILAR! @emilysidhe thought of ID Bro Saga by Bowandtie (T, 39k, wangxian)

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9.  Hey, how are you? Could you help me please? I've read 3 fanfics once, but I can't find them anymore. 1 - Nanny Problem, Wei is going to be the babysitter of A-Yuan, he is an omega and Lan is an alpha. 2 - Doctor Perfect, Yibo is an omega nurse and Xiao is an alpha doctor. 3 - The Baby of my Omega, Yibo is omega and Xiao is alpha, both of them are bodyguards, but Yibo has to protect Xiao in the beginning. I think they were at ao3, but I really can't find them. Can you help me please? Thank you!! ~ @weallmad

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10.  Hi! Im happy you’re back. I hope you had a good break. I missed your recommendations, but at the same time i got a break from fics and actually studied to my tests haha.  [Ah!  I’m glad to hear your time was spent productively!]  I’m looking for a fic like Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground. In the fic im looking for wangxian slowly lose their senses instead of all of them at once. Like they lose their hearing, then touch, sight etc, They can’t see each other or hear each other. I’m sorry i can’t explain very well.

FOUND?  Could you be thinking of  ❤️shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 25k, wangxian)?  Only lwj losese his senses one by one in this one, though.

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11.  heyyy im trying to find this fic where wwx died the first time he was thrown in to the burial mounds then 10 years later he gets resurrected or something. I can't find it on AO3 and it's been bugging me for days. Thank you!

FOUND!  Well, @moku-youbi offers both of these as possibilities:

Did I Not Explain Why the Sunset Turns Red? by 3988Akasha (E, 100k, wangxian)

we're starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 95k, wangxian)

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12.  Hi I am looking for a fic where wwx is a witch (/mage?) in a world where magic is being persecuted (especially in Gusu) except for Yunmeng/Lanling I think but they're still frowned upon nonetheless. Then after accidentally hurting Shijie, wwx runs away, and ends up hiding in Gusu pretending to be a servant to lwj (lwj is a prince, lxc is the emperor) but lwj actually knows of his identity and tries not-so-discreetly to protect him from being caught. Thanks!

FOUND! by @bibliobasilisk who gives us Witchfinder by misbehavingvigilante (E, 86k, wangxian)

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13.  Hi! Firstly, I'm glad to see you're back, and I hope your break was a good one! I'm trying to find a LWJ/WWX story that I had planned to read and ending up losing before I could. It was set in the immediate aftermath of the 33 lashes, LWJ is in the Jingshi recovering when a healer(?) discovers he's pregnant (by WWX). It may have been a/b/o verse, but I'm not 100% on that. Part of the story was a flashback to when WWX was still alive. Thank you!

FOUND!  by nonny themself.  It’s Unexpected Surprise by Glucose_Gremlin (E, 4k, wangxian)

SIMILAR! @mondelgel suggests my heart is kept as pure as ice in a jade vase/一片冰心在玉壶 by Daledesu (M, 21k, wangxian, WIP)

SIMILAR! from @impending-cuttlefish:  something new, something white, something blue by ariskamalt (E, 140k, wangxian, WIP)

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14.  I'm trying to find this one fic where Jin Ling finds this diary that Wei Ying wrote as the Yiling Patriarch that basically reveals everything, including the golden core reveal and it even has training tips that helps Jon Ling improve. When Wei Ying comes back, he tries everything to keep him there because he is THE best uncle now. I need to find it because it is a N E E D.

FOUND? by @theladypeartree who says, “The Truth (Untold) is jl reading jyl's journals, not wwx's though. And mordant is jl returning wwx's journals that he found, not grew up with. Neither fit #14 properly, but I seriously could not find anything closer after two solid days of searching. Good luck!“

The Truth (Untold) by anxiouswreck0_0 (g, 3k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian)

or this one on ffn:

mordant by tennisnotensai (M, 18k, wangxian, here’s the link for mobile)

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15.  I have heard tell of a Sizhui/Jingyi fic where the boys end up going to Wangxian for advice about how to be intimate. Can you help me find it?

FOUND!  @manaika-chan says this one is On Advisement by LaMachina17 (M, 19k, wangxian, zhuiling, chengyi)

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16.  nm

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17.  Hi! Sorry, do you happen to know that nsfw fic where wwx is still studying in the cloud recesses and he’s reading a novel (im not sure if it was from nhs) that features a cultivator couple and there’s a scene in the book where the woman was pegging her husband? Basically wwx got curious about this and tried fingering himself. I remember he was hiding in the back mountains and then lwj eventually caught him

FOUND?  Could you be thinking of  Deep in the Woods by malkinmalkout (E, 5k, wangxian, my post)?

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18.  Ahhh I'm going crazy trying to think of a fic that I've read where Lan Zhan killed Wen Chao in a locker room and nie huaisang stood guard outside the door! Then lan zhan went to lan huan and said I killed someone and he said did they deserve it? Then it's fine. And I can't remember the name of the fic! Have you heard of it? ~ @uchihaautumn

FOUND! @artemisisdiana offers So Full Of Love (Wouldn't Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 54k, wangxian, WIP)

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19.  Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. I read it a while ago and I don't really remember all the details but it was a modern au where Lan Wangji was a police officer in this small town and Wei Wuxian comes back after years, having left the town due to some stuff. Thank you in advance.

Btw love your blog. I live for your fic recs.  [Thank you!]

FOUND?  Could you be looking for medium blues by dark_and_terrible (E,193k,  wangxian)?  It appears to be taken down atm, but it might come back (it’s done it before).

FOUND! by @grannyweatherwaxshat who offers When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (not rated, 75k, wangxian)

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20.  Hi mojo!! First of all I luv your blog Thank you so much for all those ficrecs.  [You’re welcome!]  Actually I’m looking for a fic I read months ago. I probably found the fic from your blog. But I can’t seem to find it now 😢 it was a modern au wangxian fic (inspired by call me by ur name?) wwx was like 5 years older than lwj. (And lwj was like 16?) Wwx lives in another city but he spent around a year in cloud recesses with lwj in the past. And wwx yanli and jc visits cloud recesses again and wangxian gets 2gether

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[My ko-fi.]